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BECKA
Waiting patiently in the back of the town car proved to be harder than I thought it would be. The city lights outside the window flashed in my vision like strobe lights, ratcheting up the excitement for my first night out in a long time. My cheeks were starting to hurt from the smile that had been plastered there for the last several hours, and I couldn’t keep my heart from doing a tap dance in my chest.
I’d just arrived in Boston a few hours ago and could barely contain my giddiness for a night out with my best friend at one of the hottest clubs in the city. Hours of dancing, drinking, and most of all fun.
When was the last time I had been able say I had fun?
So, sitting in a beautiful car being driven to a club they say people wait in line for hours to get into— I could hardly believe it.
The wedding was only a week away, and even though I was going to be the maid of honor, it was sad to think it had been over a year since I had seen my best friend. Guess that’s what happens when you live across the country from one another and a little thing called life gets in the way.
We had constantly kept in touch after college and tried our best to regularly visit each other, but life has a way of making things hard.
It had been a particularly rough year but I was finally starting to feel like I could breathe again. I needed this week of being around happiness and positive thinking. Back home it was the same routine. Day in and day out of watching one of the few people in my life waste away into nothing but a shadow of who they used to be. Every day I felt myself slide a little further into the shadows. It started to feel similar to a cloud following me everywhere, blocking out the sun and any warmth it would provide. I felt sad and lonely, and plain beaten all the time.
But this week was going to be the break I needed. Something to think back on and make me smile when the cloud started to dump rain on my head.
As the car drew closer to the club I couldn’t sit still. My butt shifted across the plush leather and my hands constantly fiddled with the small chain of my clutch.
Then nerves started to move into the back of my mind. Just like the creeping vines that use to be outside my grandmother’s window, always coming back no matter how hard you tried to kill them.
Tonight I was going to meet Arianna’s fiancé for the first time. It had only been six months ago when she called saying she was getting married to a guy she’d never even mentioned before, and asked me to be her maid of honor. I had been so shocked my mouth hung open for a full minute before I’d been able to utter a “congratulations”, and then a “what the hell”. And, “why is this the first I am hearing of this?”
Things had moved fast according to Arianna, and she was a little lax on the details sometimes. Ok, maybe a lot of the time when it came to this particular subject. But that is Arianna for you. No matter how many questions I asked she always had a good answer but they all sounded scripted somehow.
I kept feeling that something was a little off and in more ways than one. In college, Arianna hadn’t had a single boyfriend or hook-up, or in the time after as far as I knew. Then out of the blue she’s getting married?
But I didn’t press. Even though it stung just a bit knowing she was keeping things from me, I’ve always been a firm believer in people being allowed to have their own secrets. Even between best friends.
I hid my secrets from everyone. Ones so deep and dark their roots are forever burrowed into my soul. Forever waiting for the opportunity to let me know that no matter how hard I try, I will never escape them. Arianna knew my secrets. But what she didn’t know is that they still stalked me. Watching. Waiting. Always.
I huffed out a breath to clear my mind of the negative. Secrets or not, if Arianna was happy I was happy for her. And I was dedicated to helping make this the best week of her life. Nothing was going to stand in the way of that.
Besides, who was I to say how long it takes for two people to fall in love? I’d never been in love. Or kissed someone and felt fireworks firing off like the Forth of July as I lost myself in that person.
I’d never even fizzled. All my kisses had been more comparable to the kid who grabbed the largest firework out of the box, hopping with anticipation as they watch their parent light it, and all they get is a few weak sparks of color and its over in a few seconds. Total let down. So, I kept my mouth shut and supported her the way any self-respecting best friend should.
The car rolled up to the curb, pulling my thoughts back to the present. I stuffed everything but tonight away. A whole week worth of appointments and parties with family lay ahead, tonight was just for us. Arianna and I, making up for lost time.
The driver rounded the car to open the door for me and I stepped out into the night. I felt like someone important. Special, due to the way everyone watched me exit the luxury car like royalty. I had told Arianna that I was more than happy to take a cab but she’d insisted that she send a car. I felt it unnecessary, but couldn't lie to myself, the envious looks were kind of nice.
I tried to tip the driver but he refused, waving his hand towards the front door and parting with a smile. Then he was gone and left me standing on the sidewalk staring up at the brightly lit sign ECTASY, adorning the massive brick building lined with people. All the ladies dressed in sexy short dresses and every man dressed to impress.
I pulled my phone from my clutch and texted Arianna.
Me: I’m here!
Arianna: OMG so excited! Go to the bouncers at the front door. Tell them you are here to see me and one of them will bring you in.
I slipped my phone back into place and headed for the door. My black spiked heals clicked on the sidewalk as cat calls rang out from the line. The slight chill of early May brushed at my shoulders and legs sending a light shiver down my body.
As I got closer and eyed the three bouncers at the door and a lump formed in my throat the size of a golf ball. The men were huge, and wore very serious, unforgiving looks on their faces. Shoulders squared to the eager line of waiting patrons, they stood like statues with their hands clutched in front of them. They all looked poised to pounce at any moment and mean enough to rip someone’s head clean off.
Although, if I had to deal with what they did on a nightly basis I might look that way too.
Steeling my spine, I approached. “Hi. My name is Becka… I mean, Rebecka North.”
Everyone usually called me Becka for short. The only time anyone used my full name was when my grandparents had gotten me in trouble or for legal matters. And any time someone got a look at my name written or typed on paper I was asked the same question, answering with a, “yes that is how my name is really spelled”. Because who spells Rebecka with a ‘ck’?
