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“Speak of the devil,” I mutter. I stare at it for a second. Do I want to have another round with her right now, after such a bad day at work? Her smiling face on the screen guilts me into answering. “Hey, Mom.”
“Darling,” her chirpy voice begins.Darling. Not a good start. “How are you? Your sister and I are going over the seating arrangements one last time—more people RSVPed at the last minute, can you believe it—and we need to start over. It’s been a nightmare. Don’t worry, we won’t ask for your help with that, you only need to check with the catering again, nothing else. Oh, and the venue is—“
I pull the phone from my ear and stare at Rose who is desperately trying to contain her laughter, the seriousness of our previous conversation lost. My mother’s high-pitched voice is audible without the need for a speakerphone, so her rambling gets to entertain us both. Rose mouths something butbreathingis the only word I catch. I shake my head. Mom doesn’t need to breathe when she wants to say something.
“Which brings me back to you, darling.”
At that, I tune in again.
“We all know that you and—“ there’s a sigh. She’s going for overly dramatic today. “I just want to wrap up the seating arrangements and your sister insists we ask you first. Do you have a plus one?”
It doesn’t really sound like a question. Ever since my breakup—after the dust from Emily’s news had settled—she’s been checking up on my relationship status on a biweekly basis.
I can just tell her no but for some reason, I don’t want to. I don’t want to hear the lecture that will follow or the matchmaking at the reception. But most of all, I don’t want to go alone.
“Of course I do,” I say, my voice louder than I expected. It’s so quiet on the other side of the line that I can hear a pin drop.
“You do?” This time the question is painfully clear. Mom sounds like she’s choking on something.
“Yes, yes, I do. I have to go now, I’m late. We’ll talk later.” The words rush out of my mouth in a panic, but I hang up before she can ask any more questions.
“Did you hear that?” I turn to my best friend, my pillar of support, the shoulder I have cried on since the first grade, for some sympathy. But Rose is busy, lying flat on the other side of the couch, hugging a pillow to her face, and crying in silent laughter. “More or less,” she manages to say, in between breaths.
I put my hands on my face, pressing my palms hard against my burning cheeks. I’m acting like a stupid, insecure teenager who’d rather hide away until the problem’s gone. And I just made sure it won’t.
Still as a statue, I wait until my heartbeat returns to normal. It takes several minutes before we are both able to speak again.
“So, who’s your plus one?” Rose asks.
I grab my pillow and throw it at her, causing another round of laughter. She knows exactly what my situation is.
Morgan and I had been together for two years and while I wasn’t exactly madly in love, I really thought that our relationship would move to the next level. He ticked all my boxes: he was handsome, smart, ambitious, we had a lot of things in common and—
OK, maybe I didn’t have a lot of boxes to tick. And by the end of it, the relationship was far from ideal, which is why I decided to stay single after him; to find myself again and not settle for somebody I don’t love with all my heart. And I do know how that feels.
I’ve experienced that kind of love once and nothing could compare to the happiness that came with it. Or the pain. Or the embarrassment. The rumors that circulated about me afterward haunted me until I finished my studies and left Dartmouth. That’s another reason NYC is perfect.
But those untamed dark curls and sultry eyes make my knees go weak even today, even though they are gone for good.
Why am I doing this to myself, really? I’m clinging to a job that makes me miserable with feeble excuses, and I’m avoiding new romantic adventures, still held captive by past loves and betrayals.
I look at Rose who has raised an eyebrow at my perky expression.
“I don’t know yet,” I reply. “But rest assured that I’m not going alone to that wedding.”
Two new boxes to tick off before the wedding: a new job and a new date.
I grab my coffee and raise it for a toast.
“No, no, no, darling.” Rose mimics my mom’s terms of endearment. “This toast needs wine.”
She’s right. I put the cup down and with shaky legs, I head to the wine cooler. My collection has been dwindling lately, I need to stock up.
Careful not to spill wine on the white carpet, I head back with two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon filled to the brim. We make a toast and I almost swallow the entire glass. A somewhat sweet yet burning sensation spreads down my throat.
I beam from the heat, satisfied with my decision. Rose shatters it immediately. “So, what’s the plan?”
“The date comes first,” I explain. “I need to start getting out more, perhaps download some dating app.” My flirting skills are rusty, and I’m afraid it’ll be hard to convince a stranger to come to a three-day wedding with me. The job hunt comes second, although there’s no harm in looking around, maybe sending out some CVs.
