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CHAPTER1
JANEY
“Alright,that’s it for me, Mrs. Michaelson,” I tell the woman lying peacefully in the bed as I tuck the blankets around her frail body. She’s been a resident here for years, and her children rarely come anymore. They’re all too busy with their own lives and have already grieved the loss of their once-vibrant matriarch. But though they’ve moved on, she’s still here, and it’s my job as her nurse to make sure she’s well-cared for, something I take seriously.
I pause as though she’s going to respond and then answer accordingly in a bright, happy voice. “Of course, I’ll be careful and have fun. And if I survive the time with my family, I’ll tell you all about the wedding when I get back. It’s going to be straight off a telenovela—drama, catfights, and fake tears, oh, my!” I throw an overexaggerated wink her way, comfortable being my weird self with my patients, mostly because they’re a captive audience who appreciate the conversation.
Or at least I like to think they do. They don’t share their opinions with me often.
Still, I imagine Mrs. Michaelson clucking her tongue fussily at the unflattering depiction of my family. I’m not sure that was her nature when she was herself, but in my imagination, she’s a very proper, ladylike, and slightly judgmental woman.
Glancing out the small window that gives the room some natural light, I sigh. The next week is bound to be the literal live-action remake of Dickens’s ‘the best of times... the worst of times.’ Guaranteed.
First, I have days of peace in a cabin well outside the city with my boyfriend, Henry, where our plans are to read, relax, take a few nature walks, and soak in the hot tub. It’ll be our first big vacation together, and I’m both excited and nervous, especially since now he’s stuck at work for a few more days and is meeting me there...
“You seriously have to work? We scheduled this months ago.”
“Sorry, babe. Duty calls. You know they can’t do it without me, and the deadline’s coming up quick.” He sounds distracted, like he’s reading a computer screen while he tells me that he can’t go with me for the entire time.
“How about I wait for you?” I suggest hopefully. “That way, we can still go together and enjoy the obscene amounts of junk food and off-key singalongs of the road trip.” It’s a good idea even if it’ll waste a few nights of our reservation. But I don’t care. I want Henry.
Henry, though, apparently feels differently. “Pass on that. You know you can’t sing.”
I never claimed to be a red-headed Kelly Clarkson, but it sounds worse when he says I can’t sing. I agree anyway because my lack of pitch is not the issue. The demise of our couple-cation is. “Hence, why I said off-key.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, good one. Listen, I’ve gotta go. The guys are looking to me to crack the whip. But you should go ahead without me. You need the peace and quiet. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, ‘kay?”
It sounds like I don’t have a choice, and I don’t want to start our time off with an argument, so I force a smile into my voice. “Okay. I’ve never vacationed alone, and I’m not entirely sure I’ll know what to do with myself, but I guess I’ll figure it out. When do you think—”
“Good girl. I’ll be in touch. Bye, babe.”
The line goes dead.
Yeah, so that’s thebest of timespart.
And then, after the forced solitary relaxation and a happy reunion with Henry, theworst of timeskicks in.
My cousin Paisley’s nuptials, which are next weekend, have been destined to be my own personal hell since we were children. In a family that wanted to spend loads of time together, watching the kids play while the adults sipped hard lemonades and gossiped about everyone, Paisley has always been my built-in, ever-present bully.
Of course, no adults ever saw her tormenting me. They would turn the other cheek as she’d knock down my building blocks, clap as she cast me as the monster in family skits, and laugh when she called me ‘Plainy Janey’, a blunt commentary on my late-to-arrive and none-too-friendly experience with puberty. Because of course, she grew up well and is everything I’m not.
Paisley is tall and lithe, built like a fairytale princess. I’m short and curvy. Her hair is naturally caramel-blonde-brown and falls in a sheet down her back. Mine is bright red-orange, and the curls stand out from my head like I stuck a finger in a live light socket. She’s got the perfect dentist office ad smile, while my smile is too wide and shows off the chipped tooth I was too chicken shit to get fixed because I didn’t want to tell the dentist that I got it walking into a door while gawking at a cute guy.
And then there’s our personalities. While Paisley is a bitch to me, to everyone else, she’s charming, and people fall in love with her in seconds. I’m an odd mix of quiet mouse and filter-less mouth, always rambling to myself but never really saying much, not that it matters because people don’t listen to me anyway. Then again, my hope and dream is to be as invisible as possible so I don’t become someone else’s target the way I was Paisley’s for all my life.
Not that I’m holding grudges, exactly, but I’m also not looking forward to seeing certain family members. Like the bride. Unless she’s tripping down the aisle, ripping her dress, and tearfully admitting that she doesn’t deserve Max, her fiancé.
Okay, I don’t want that to happen. Not really. Much.
I wish I could skip the wedding, but that would kick off a whole new spin-off series of family drama, so slapping on a fake smile (closed lips, of course—damned chip), attending, suffering through, and scurrying away before anyone deigns to look my way is my best option. My only option.
“I know, I shouldn’t be like that about my family, but you don’t know them like I do,” I tell Mrs. Michaelson, imagining her maternal disappointment in me. But she doesn’t have flashbacks of peeing herself at sleepovers because someone stuck her hand in warm water. I do. And I wasn’t a kid. I was fifteen, which made itsomuch worse. Especially when the teasing turned from ‘ew, did you wet the bed?’ to ‘maybe she’s a squirter’ and jokes about my ‘wet dreams’, and I didn’t know what that meant, which led to a whole new round of taunts. Yeah, super funny.
So yeah, excuse me if I’m dreading seeing Paisley all dolled up, everyone fawning over her and her new hubby, and my family asking whether I have any prospects. And then laughing at the very idea.
Shit. I’m holding grudges.
They’re warranted, though. I think. Probably.
