ELEVEN
DARCY
I’m walkingdown the aisle, my dad on my arm. I don’t remember picking out a veil, but there’s one over my eyes.
Everyone’s here. Maggie. My pack of aunties. Peepaw somehow, with a broad smile.
But wait, is that Goofy? Like Goofy, the dog cow thing that says “gawrsh”? Mom must have invited him. He’s sitting with her anyway. Are Mom and Goofy dating? Is Goofy in a throuple with my parents?
I get to the end of the aisle and Dad hugs me. I turn to Rob and my dad says the classic, “Be good to my little girl.” Rob hugs him too.
It’s happening. I’m getting married. The man of my dreams stands before me, the familiar feel of his warm hands filling mine. But it’s not at the farm, and all I’ve wanted since I was a little girl was to get married on the farm. A gray wash falls over the scene before me. A heavy weight presses down on my chest. Is this a heart attack symptom?
But it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. I’m getting marriedright now.
Rob lifts my veil, his green and blue eyes earnest as he says, “Dee, did you go to the gym today?”
I sit up, pouring sweat and disturbing Stormy, who was apparently the source of my chest pressure. My face is wet at the temples from sweat, and on my cheeks from crying.
I’m in my bed. I’m safe. I’m in Paint. It was a dream. A nightmare. At least that explains the Goofy-as-my-stepdad part of the dream.
Then why can’t I breathe?
I focus, sucking air through my nose for three counts, holding it for three, then releasing it for three. The releasing part lets out a fresh sob.
“You’re safe,” I say to myself out loud. I hug my own arms, a thing my therapist in Raleigh taught me. Self-compassionate touch, she called it. I squeeze my own biceps and shut my eyes. “You don’t answer to Rob anymore.”
I’ve had some variation on this dream since I left Raleigh: getting married, not getting married and disappointing my family, wearing sneakers and racing through the wedding venue in my dress. I feel like that last one was from a Julia Roberts movie romanticizing this moment, but hey, maybe this wild time in my life could use some whimsy.
But this dream was the most intense. I feel like when I’ve come off steroids, where the withdrawal symptoms get worse before they get better. And now, the drug that was Rob is leaving my system, and wreaking havoc on its way out. It happens both slowly and all at once. Sometimes I get buried in the farm work and forget why I’m here. Other times, it hits me like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky.
What do you mean you’re writing tonight? When are you going to give that up? You have a job.
What hardship could you possibly have to write about? You take things too seriously, Dee. Who’s going to read your emo little journal entries?
You’re talking to Brianna again? You like her more than me.
I scoff at that last memory. I’d have certainly been within my rights to like my best friend more than my fiancé. Brianna supported my creative pursuits, even acting as my fanfic co-author. Rob suppressed my creativity.
Brianna. I need her. There’s a farmers market today, so that means I’ll be in Paint with a phone signal. I’ll call my best friend when the market’s done. The closer my wedding got, the more I lost touch with her. The irony is I probably needed her more than ever in the last year.
Guilt twists my gut. I hate needing someone. I know what value other people bring into my life, but I’ve lost sight of what I give back. All I’ve been lately is bitter, and snappy, and hostile.
Stormy meows, pressing her face against me, and I cuss out loud to her as the realization hits me.
I need to cancel all those wedding vendors.
* * *
“Hang on, check out this one.”Becca’s eyes widen as she slowly blows pink bubble gum between her lips, making a massive bubble. We’re sitting on the open tailgate of the farm truck at the Wednesday evening farmers market in Paint. She grunts to get my attention and points at it, waiting for a reaction. With a loud smack, she pops it and sucks the gum back into her mouth. I haven’t reacted enough for her taste.
“You alright, boss? That was a big one. I deserved at least an ‘ooh’ or an ‘ahh.’” Becca leans to get in my line of vision.
I force a weak smile. “Yeah. Just tired. I’ve got a few phone calls to make before I go back to the farm tonight.”
Becca gestures to the market in front of us, where only one customer mills around. That customer has already been to our booth, so it’s not likely we’re seeing traffic anytime soon. “You want to get started? I don’t think you’re going to miss a mad rush.”
I sigh. “I’d rather procrastinate, thanks.”
