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It took her weeks to plan the menu from a barbeque joint? Right. It’s not some fancy feast like she’s imagining. Our family is barely clinging on to middle class. So, while her soon-to-be husband may be loaded, our father refused to accept a penny from John for the wedding or rehearsal.
“Oh, you know, to avoid bloating so everyone can fit into their dresses and look perfect tomorrow?”
“Uh! Get over it, Ly. It’s my day, not yours. Stop trying to ruin it!” she shouts, even stomping her foot like a child having a tantrum. The white sundress and heels are an attempt to look innocent, which everyone in the county knows it’s a lie. “It’s not my fault your dress wasn’t with the others. And there’s no way you can wear any of the bridesmaid dresses.”
She never misses a chance to remind me I’m thicker all over than she is and likely always will be.
“Was it too much to ask that you diet for a few weeks before the wedding?”
“Yes,” I reply as I finish off my biscuit. I’m single, unemployed, and have never been kissed. All I have are delicious foods for comfort and the memories of one too-short lunch with the perfect man to play on repeat in my dreams.
I swear, I think Laurel is lying about my dress not being delivered to the seamstress just to sideline me.
Even though there are only eighteen months between us, we’ve never gotten along. Everything has always been a competition between us – who’s prettier (her), thinner (her), who’s smarter (me), who our father loves most. I hope we’re tied there, but sometimes I have my doubts.
Our father has always been super strict, watching me like a hawk while Laurel could do whatever she wanted. She could talk him intoanything, including letting her go to parties or stay out late. She was spoiled, and I was sheltered. That’s probably why I’m a twenty-one-year-old virgin still living at home with my dad and grandma.
“Whatever, Ly. You’ll still get to be in the family photos,” the bridezilla remarks. “And can’t you just wear contacts for one damn day?”
“No.” Of course I could, but I hate contacts and don’t want to wear them, mostly because she asked me to.
“Will you at least take them off for the pictures?”
“Nah. It’s too risky. I might trip and fall without them.”
“You are such a pain in my ass.”
“Ditto,” I agree with an exaggerated wink.
“Girls, be nice!” our grandmother chastises us.
Rather than continue talking about my flaws, I decide to change the topic to one that’s uncomfortable for Laurel.
“So, guess who I ran into the other day over at the Village Shopping Center?”
“I don’t really care,” my sister huffs while crossing her arms. It takes all of ten seconds before she caves. “Fine! Who?”
“Guess,” I insist because I know the suspense is killing her. Our grandmother sighs and takes a seat on the bench across from me.
Laurel shrugs but comes closer. “A celebrity?”
“No.”
“A musician?”
“Nope.”
She throws her hands up. “God, Ly, I don’t know! I’m too busy stressing out here to play your stupid game!”
“Then I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”
She comes closer, taking my bait like I knew she would. “Wait, was it a comedian? A famous athlete?”
“No and no.”
“Ugh, just tell me who!”
“It’s notable that you only guessed well-known famous people, as if the commoners are all too good for you.”
