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“Anyway, just make sure you have a date and your clothes are ready.”
“Got it,” I said, scrambling to find my planner so I could write down the date of the wedding. It was in just two weeks—I knew because it was the weekend before graduation. Not ideal, with finals, but it was here in Rosebridge, so hopefully it wouldn’t take up too much time.
“Anything else?” my mother asked.
“Um, no,” I said. She was the one who’d called, after all, so I had no idea why she was even asking.
“Me neither,” she said. “Talk to you later, Brianne. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up and wondered what my next move was. It should have just been easy to text Margie and ask her if she wanted to come to the wedding, but I knew asking her that question would imply more than she might be prepared for. She was just building up her self-esteem and self-confidence, and I was reluctant to throw her into that situation.
Maybe I should just take Miriam. It would solve a lot of problems. But then what if Margie felt hurt that I hadn’t taken her, considering she was my… well, not my girlfriend, but on the track to becoming one.
It was even more shit that I didn’t need to think about.
And it hurt that my mother wasn’t warm like other mothers I’d seen. Her calls were always like this—like she was a taskmaster, not someone genuinely interested in my life. It would have been nice if she’d asked how my music was coming along, and then I could have told her about the street performance group. Though I had a hunch she’d dismiss it as a waste of time.
I sighed. I was so anxious that I didn’t really feel like doing anything, even though I had everything to do. I yearned for Margie’s touch again. I found it comforting in a way I’d never felt before. Maybe with all the change happening in my life, I needed her to help me feel grounded.
I glanced at my phone. Would it be too much to text her again? Ask her if she wanted to hang out again tonight? I desperately wanted to see her again. And it was weird, because I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like this.
I decided to text her and see what she had planned. I didn’t want to be the kind of person who simply didn’t text someone she really liked just because she thought it’d be too forward. I didn’t want to play games.
The reply came instantaneously.
> MARGIE: Sooo there’s actually a EAC potluck later tonight… Would you want to go?
My chest tightened with even more anxiety. I didn’t really want to go to a potluck, but if I said no, I felt like I’d be letting Margie down. Honestly, I’d been hoping for another quiet evening inside with her, since it was Sunday, after all… But maybe my accompanying her to the potluck would be the boost she needed to feel even more confident.
I texted her to say yes and ask for the details. My heart rate increased a little when I thought about how I’d have to fit all my work in around this potluck… and maybe even cook something for it, but I knew I had to do it for Margie.
And I did. I spent the next several hours working feverishly on all the readings, group projects, essays, and études I had to complete. While I didn’t get to everything, I felt okay about my progress.
Margie had told me she was bringing the food, so I didn’t have to worry about that. The house where the potluck was to be held was in my neighborhood, so I set out to walk there, having no idea what to expect.
All I knew was that Miriam didn’t like the EAC folks for no discernible reason other than the beef between EAC and EAN. It sounded stupid to me, but what did I know. A lot of people clearly hadn’t left their high school attitudes in high school.
It was strange to be a senior about to graduate and stumble upon a scene I’d never encountered before. I had no idea who these people were. In fact, it would be up to Margie to help me out a little.
I saw her walking up from the opposite side of the street and waited for her. She smiled, and we kissed a hello.
“I couldn’t go so long without seeing you,” she said shyly.
“Me neither. That’s why I texted you. Anyway, what’s up with this potluck?”
“Apparently it’s a monthly thing,” said Margie, as we approached the house. “It’s just a social event, so members can hang out. I know a couple people…”
“I thought you didn’t like these people because they were cliquey,” I said.
Margie flushed. “I felt like I should give them another chance. Maybe… maybe if I showed up with my cool friend…”
That was honestly too cute, but I worried that she wasn’t developing actual self-confidence. The EAC people had to like her for who she was, not because I was cool. I also doubted that the EAC people would be impressed by my perceived coolness.
“Well, we’ll see,” I said. “I’m sure they’re perfectly nice.”
We knocked on the door, and a girl opened the door, her red glasses framing her wide eyes and beaming smile. “Oh hey! Margie, is it? And your friend?”
