I walked out of the bridal shop that day traumatized and broke, three thousand dollars charged to my credit card. To keep my integrity I insisted we split the costs, so Mrs. Rose paid the other three thousand.Six thousand dollars for one dress.I’m haunted by the scarlet word stamped in bold on the plastic sack that suffocates six thousand dollars’ worth of material that will make it impossible for me to eat during the reception (which was the part I was most looking forward to):NON-REFUNDABLE.
Also, they offered their daughter Heather, who lives out of state and who I will meet for the first time on the day of my wedding, the role of maid of honor. When this made me upset, I wastold that she’s going to be my sister-in-law, so who else should the role go to? Brandy, my closest friend, was crushed when I told her.
Something else Heather gets for my wedding is a cream-and-rose empire-waist gown, just like all the other bridesmaids who hail from his side of the family.
Nicholas wants me to suck it up and endure being trampled just like he’s learned to do, and raising a stink even to defend myself would be inconvenient for him. I’ve endured so much awfulness for the sake of keeping the peace that I ought to qualify for sainthood. I haven’t voiced my resistance or my anger but I know he feels it, because he sure does love to avoid me these days. He dawdles at work after hours. He’s at his parents’ house more than our own. When heishome, it’s like he can’t wait for our minimal togetherness time to be over so he can scurry off to his study and hunch over the computer until bedtime. In my head I’ve named his computer Karen, after Plankton’s computer wife onSpongeBob.
Nicholas’s parents have money out the wazoo and they’ve thrown a lot of it at this wedding. I don’t care what Nicholas says, they’re not doing it to be nice or because they like me. I’m the uterus that will be carrying future Roses, interchangeable with Nicholas’s ex-girlfriends.
Every step of the way, his parents have reminded me of how lucky I am to have their help, and how high the costs have been. I don’t need the best champagne in the country served at my wedding. I’d be fine with wine from a box. No, no, only the best for their Nicky.
Don’t you worry, Nicky. Mommy and Daddy will take care of it. I know Naomi’s parents can’t. Mr. Westfield was pushedout of his job, wasn’t he? And Mrs. Westfield is just a schoolteacher! How quaint. Mr. and Mrs. Westfield can barely afford the gas and the cost of their plates, the poor dears. Now remember, Naomi, don’t slouch. Find a different expression, please. Maybe you should change your face altogether. Is that the color eyes you’re going with? You’re sure? You’re wearing heels, aren’t you? No, notthoseheels. Those are stripper heels. You’re going to be a Rose, dear. That name means something. Sit up straight. Don’t fidget with your ring. You’re just like a daughter to us, we love you so much. Come stand directly behind us in this family portrait and suck in your stomach.
There’s a smorgasbord of bullshit here to detest, but I think the thing I hate the most about Mr. and Mrs. Rose is that they still call their son Nicky. He won’t even let me call him Nick. When they’re not calling him Nicky and kissing his cheeks like he’s five years old, they’re calling him Dr. Rose and photocopying his dentist certificates to hang in their own study. They’re vicarious dentists and lecture their friends about gum disease.
I can’t possibly back out now. Everyone would be gossiping about me, spreading rumors. I’d look like a failure and an idiot. I’d have wasted thousands of dollars. There’s no exit strategy, so I’m holding my breath and winging it.
I look at Nicholas and realize I am actually marrying this man. Forty percent because I love him and sixty percent because I’m too afraid to call it off. Everyone, including his parents, said we’d never make it down the aisle. I have so much pride that I’ll do it just to prove them wrong.
“Fine, then, don’t help me,” Nicholas huffs, hurling an irritated look at me. I’ve ruined his evening. Stupendous. “I’llbe rushed for time and I’m already stressed out, but what else is new?”
“Preach, sister,” I mutter under my breath. He grumbles and bangs more cabinets, which gives me an oddly satisfying feeling. Misery loves company, after all. If I’m going to be thinking vindictive thoughts all night, I might as well drag him down into the trenches with me.
CHAPTER THREE
When we park in front of Brandy’s, Nicholas sees Zach on the porch and eyes me sideways.
“Great.Thatguy is here,” Nicholas mutters. He knows his name, but he’s pretending not to. Tonight he’ll pretend he doesn’t know any of their names, like they’re below his notice, as revenge for them not liking him.
Zach isn’t doing anything but petting a cat on the porch railing, but I’ve complained about him ten thousand times to Nicholas for sneaking food from my lunchbox at work and regularly bailing on his shifts without any notice, so as much as I want to argue with every word that comes out of his mouth, I look down at my cards and decide not to play my hand.
“How long do we have to stay?” he grumbles. “Will there be food? I didn’t eat before I left. And I don’t want to be out late. I have things to do tomorrow.” You’d think I forced him to come.I try to remember what falling in love felt like and can’t recall. It must have been over with very quickly.
I think he senses I’m losing my patience because when I slam my door, he doesn’t say a word, just stuffs his hands in his pockets and follows slowly like he’s on his way to the electric chair.
I have never behaved this way when roles are reversed and we’re spending time with Nicholas’s friends. I have perpetual purple shadows under my eyes and every time they see me they ask me if I’m sick. Every. Single. Time. One of these friends is an ex of Nicholas’s, so I know she’s doing it just to screw with me.
Zach’s eyes sharpen when they narrow on Nicholas, who’s stomping up the driveway with a scowl. Zach stops petting the cat and takes a long swallow of beer, one finger crooking around the glass neck. He never takes his eyes off Nicholas as he drains the whole bottle. “Well, well, well,” he says with a smirk. “Look who’s gracing us with his presence.”
Nicholas tries not to break eye contact first because they’re doing some kind of male standoff thing, but he’s looking a little unnerved. Zach holds the door open for me, which is the first chivalrous thing I’ve ever seen him do. He slips in behind me before Nicholas can get up the last step and lets the door swing shut in his face.
I glare at Zach and open the door for my stricken fiancé, who has never been treated so rudely in his life. He will surely call his mother later and tell her all about it. Zach gives me his patented dead-eyed expression, shrugs, and walks into the kitchen without a backward glance.
Nicholas doesn’t belong in this part of my life, and we both know it. He’s here because he took my laugh as a dare, and he’s every bit as spiteful as I am. Game night has lost its joy for me,and I know down to the bottom of my soul that this is going to end badly.
–
GET OUT HERE NOW, I text Nicholas. It’s only been half an hour and he’s taken five trips to the bathroom to pet Brandy’s cat, which she’s stowed away since I’m allergic. His excessive bathroom-lurking is stalling the flow of Cards Against Humanity and people are starting to get annoyed. When he scuttles out of hiding, he’s so busy glowering at me that he accidentally steps on one of Brandy’s masks that’s fallen off the wall, and cracks it.
She has a row of beautiful carved wooden masks of animal faces in her hallway, celebrating her Yup’ik heritage. Most are of animals you’d find in Alaska, like bears, seals, and wolves. It’s been her lifelong dream to move to southwest Alaska, where her parents are from, and we routinely scroll through real estate websites hunting for the sort of house we want her to live in. In the meantime, she’s tried to give her house an Alaskan feel with cedar furniture and a faux fireplace.
“Way to go,” says Zach.
Nicholas blushes, tugging a hand through his hair to cup the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry. What, uh, what is this thing? I’ll replace it for you.”
If Brandy’s upset, she hides it well. “No worries. With a little wood glue, it’ll be good as new!” She plucks up the mask and hurries away into the kitchen.
“I can pay for a replacement. How much did it cost?”
