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I fall back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. With the household I was born into, it’s a miracle that I came out of it as a functional adult.
My family is a hot mess to say the least, but I’ve long made peace with that. Aside from cutting them off completely, I’m not sure I have any other options.
I’d do anything for them. But sometimes, I feel powerless. Because it’s clear that despite the sacrifices I’d willingly make for them, they aren’t always willing to make good decisions for themselves. That fucking stings.
I’ve accepted that Mom is a lost cause, but I worry about my younger siblings. So much.
I try not to think about my scammy mother. Or my shameful past. Or all the ugly baggage that mixed all up together and led to the end of my marriage.Now’s not the time to think about that.
I put on a good front most days, but ultimately, if I had a shrink—and I probably should—I imagine they’d say those three disasters are all grossly intertwined.
Anyway, after that dose of drama, I need out of the cabin. I quickly freshen up in the cobwebby bathroom, showering, shaving and brushing my teeth. A coat of mascara. A swipe of lipgloss. Then I pull on my rain boots and venture outside.
Instead of circling around the back of the cabin where the men are doing their thing, I slowly make my way toward the main house.
The sky above is still dark, dreary, and gray. It looks like rain could come down again at any moment, but I’m grateful for a break between showers.
As I trek along the trail, I call Meghan back. I had a bunch of missed calls and texts from her when I powered my phone back on. I don’t want to cause her any extra undue stress on her big weekend. It’s bad enough that her maid of honor still hasn’t shown up to the wedding.
“Oh my god. You’re alive!” Meghan blurts out, obviously overjoyed to be hearing from me.
I laugh. “Well, that’s an overdramatic greeting!”
“You spent the night in a cabin in the woods with your ex-husband,” she deadpans. “I don’t think I’m being overdramatic.”
“Touché.” I snort.
“How’s Davis doing, by the way?”
I get a flashback to all the muscle-flexing and ax-wielding I just witnessed through the back window. “Great! He’s doing great! Super great!” And why the hell is my voice so high-pitched and reedy all of a sudden? Ugh.
“Okay, well I want to know all the things,” Meghan demands. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I go into a bit more detail than I did over text yesterday,quickly providing the cliff notes version of how Davis and I ended up stuck in Starlight Falls with Ziggy’s aunt and uncle. Including the near death experience. The super hero rescue. The flooding.
Thankfully, Meghan doesn’t pry for too manyDavisdetails—especially about our sleeping arrangements last night. With her wedding ceremony hanging in the balance, my bestie has far more important issues on her mind, of course.
“Please,pleasetell me you’ll be here by tonight! I really need you, Al.”
“I know you do, sweetie. You know I’m going to do everything I can to make it.” Meghan’s final wedding gown fitting is at Renewed Gowns in the morning. Ireallywant to be there for that.
“That doesn’t sound very reassuring.” She fake-whimpers. “This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening,” I hear her mumbling on repeat. Pacing, no doubt.
I try to distract her. “Ziggy’s finishing up the bouquets for you, right?” I subtly change the subject because I don’t want to make any promises I may not be able to keep.
“Yes, but I won’t need flowers if no one is coming!” she cries. “You’re not the only one stranded. Right now, it’s looking like a third of our guests won’t even be able to make it. This whole thing is going to be a disaster! And the inn is booked solid for months. It’s not like we can just reschedule. Or rebook to another weekend. Or—”
“Megs, breathe,” I demand, and she does as I say. “Another deep breath, all the way in. Good. Now listen. Everybody is going to do their best to make it safely to your wedding. But what matters is that you’re there and your groom is there, and no matter what, you’ll be Mrs. Cash Westbrook the day after tomorrow. Focus on that,” I tell her gently, trying to comfort her as best I can over the phone.
“Okay.” Meghan inhales and exhales loudly several more times. “Okay. You’re right. I’m going to go find Cash now. He went out for a jog. I need to check and see if he got back yet. Text me when you’re on your way.”
“Will do.” That’s a promise I can keep.
“Love you, Al.” When she says that the hollow center of my chest warms. It’s funny how a few kind words from my best friend can fill me with a feeling of comfort and belonging I never quite got in my childhood household.
“Love you, too, Megs. Bye.”
I continue the walk to the main cabin, contemplating the love I share with my friends. I know I shouldn’t compare apples with oranges but speaking to my mother and Meghan back to back, it’s impossible not to notice the contrast. Maybe I’m being overemotional right now, but the kindness and acceptance I get from my friends is what kept me standing in my toughest moments.
