I groan, dreading going back already, even if I love home. Being so nice and polite and considerate all the time is exhausting. Everyone in Solberg has known me since my mom was hired at Sigurdsson College when I was two, and townies thrive on gossip. If I ever slipped up and let the sarcasm out with the wrong person, or even burped without pretending tobe ashamed of my bodily functions, it reflected on my parents. My wonderful, strange parents who are already the weirdos in Solberg. Growing up, I had to be as normal as humanly possible, so things wouldn’t be harder on my spitfire, opinionated mother and my awkward, disabled father.
My chest hurts just thinking about it, my binder growing too tight. My skin crawls, like it might burst open. I can’t move back. Living in the city means that I don’t have to care what people think all the goddamn time. I’m free here. Free to not smile at everyone. Free to do the bare minimum. Free to disappear and be alone, even when I’m surrounded by people. I don’t have to constantly contain myself to fit in like I did in Solberg. There, I was only ever truly free with Matt and Allie.
In the midst of my mindless swipes left, a new text makes my phone vibrate.
So we doin this or nah?
I sigh, wondering how Eris got my number. Then I see ze texted zimself a middle finger emoji when adding zis number to my phone.
With a groan, I sit up, my bum knee protesting after speedwalking from the Red Line earlier in my rush to get to brunch. Are we doing this? I could just tell Matt and Allie that I love them, but it’s better I don’t go, like my parents did. Or I could tell them that I’m actually single, go to the wedding, and be the awkward third-wheel around Matt’s friends.
You can say no. I know that word confuses you.
I huff. Eris has a point, I’m not good at saying no. But if I can say no to anyone, it’s zim. Eris sees the judgmental asshole behind the airs I put on to convince Adrienne and Dream thatI’m a good person, in hopes that we’ll be friends for real one day. Ze always makes me feel so…exposed. I hate it.
I have no qualms about saying no. Especially to you.
So…yes, then? Imma be your hot piece of ass for your ex’s wedding?
I wince. Maybe I drank too much at brunch; my stomach is not settling well at the prospect of driving the six hours to Solberg, trapped in a car with Eris. I rub my sternum, willing it to stop fluttering and let me breathe.
After the long car ride on Friday, the schedule will include a rehearsal dinner full of fake-nice small talk. I would need to hold hands with Eris or some shit to be convincing. Ze probably has sweaty palms. Does Eris even have a fake side, or would ze be a sarcastic shithead the whole time? A snort escapes me as I imagine how Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson might react to seeing me there in the first place, let alone with someone like Eris. Ze doesn’t fit into their sanitized, orderly view of the world.
We’d have to spend a night in the hotel together. The champagne buzz under my skin makes me uncomfortably warm. Whatever, it’s only a big deal if Eris snores. Which ze probably does. I’m sure we’d spend the night ignoring each other anyway.
The morning of the wedding, we could ignore each other more before heading to campus in the late afternoon. While Matt’s parents frown upon higher education (likely on account of their long-standing feud with my professor mother), Allie’s parents went to Siggurdson too, and all Siggys get married on campus. I was already wary of marriage, but four years of the constant heteronormative “Siggys marry Siggys!” and “Ring by spring!” bullshit has turned me off to the institution completely.
For myself, anyway. Matt and Allie’s will be cute.
After the wedding is the reception—which I expect will be more fun than the rehearsal dinner on account of the DJ and the open bar—followed by one more night of Eris and I ignoring each other in the hotel. The six-hour drive back will be silent, I’m sure. I hope.
I deeply appreciate the fact that my parents will be out of town. This way, they can’t insist on meeting Eris until after the wedding. I can tell everyone we’ve broken up before it comes to that—
I groan. “Ugh, we’re fucking doing this aren’t we?”
If nothing else, I wouldn’t have to fake anything with zim, like I would with literally everyone else. Maybe the quality time will help me find something redeemable in Eris. Or be the excuse to skip brunch forever.
If I say yes, can you promise not to be a complete asshole? It’s a small town, so everything we do will get back to my parents, and they’re already going to be hurt that I’m bringing someone home when they’re out of town.
You’re lying to your parents too? That’s cold, Bambi!
Whatever, they’re happier with the partial truths I give them. And Matt still helps out my parents constantly, so he’s probably told them I’m seeing someone. Explains why my mom keeps fishing for clues about my social life. She doesn’t push, which I appreciate, but I have no shame in letting them believe whatever makes them more comfortable— Wait, the fuck did ze call me?
The fuck? Bambi?
I figure we should have cute pet names. And you always look like a baby deer staring down a semitruck on the freeway whenever I say anything to you.
My stomach lurches at the memory of literally staring down a truck on a highway, but I haven’t told anyone in Chicago about that, and I’m not going to start with Eris. Everyone in Solberg was so…careful with me. Patronizing, even after I no longer needed a wheelchair. So “nice” that I could never assert myself for fear of offending someone. Eris is already aggravating enough without treating me with kid gloves.
What are you gonna call me?
Nothing.
Awww come on, Bambi, is that any way to treat your hot piece of ass?
Stop saying that! Can you or can you not contain your assholery for one weekend? I need us to not reflect poorly on my parents.
Make me.
