It's Really Happening

Perhaps I was just a teeeensy bit addicted to Twitter, I admit. How Jack figured out which shop we’d gone to was a mystery I didn’t want to waste energy trying to solve, however.

While Abby got pressed and pinned and fawned over by the battalion of dressmakers, the rest of us… watched, pretty much. There was nothing else to do aside from enjoy my champagne and keep it away from Alex. Who cared that I was underage? They didn’t need to know that.

Abby returned to the dressing room to change into her normal clothes when I stopped boredly flipping and reading through all the notes I’d take down for planning. My eyes settled on a mostly-empty page that I’d made more doodles on than notes.

“Excuse me,” I said politely to the owner as she walked out of Abby’s room, “Do you have bridesmaids’ dresses on display?” She nodded and told me to follow her. I grinned at the others. “Be right back.”

“Can I help?” Tiffany called after me.

“Just looking, love!”

“Can I?” Jack asked.

“Only if you want to model, Bassam!”

The store had a surprisingly wide selection, but since I had exactly no idea what I was looking for, I simply wandered around. The idea of all bridesmaids’ dresses being horrendously ugly was firmly rooted in fact, as I discovered picking through the racks. I held up a dress, making a face, and turned at the sound of laughter.

“Chartreuse is not your colour,” Abby laughed.

I smiled and returned the hanger. “It’s hard to carry off if you’re not a large black woman going to church in a big hat,” I replied. I looked down at my notebook and back at her. “You know this would be a lot easier if you could decide shit. No pressure or anything.”

“I know!” she groaned, wandering past me. “I’m trying! It’s just… this thing with Josh last night is throwing me off.”

I winced, following her. “About that. I’m sorry about inquired after his virginity or lack thereof. You know I talk a lot when I’m drunk.” She smiled back at me and pulled a dress to examine. After a moment she held it up to me and tilted her head. “Bad cut. It’ll look horrible on all of us.”

We spent a few more minutes walking, arguing about colours and cuts, and trying to find something that would look good on me, Couch, and Abby’s sister. This proved difficult since we were all of different skin tones, styles, and body types.

However, her phone ringing drew both of our attentions away from the “apple” dress Abby had spotted. She pulled it out of her pocket and started at it. “It’s Josh,” she whispered.

I stared at her a few more seconds. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” I asked encouragingly. She stuck her tongue out at me, but answered regardless.

I turned back to consider the dress while she greeted her fiancé. Listening in on conversations always felt so invasive to me, but there wasn’t much I could do to combat it. Tiffany would love this one, but I’m not crazy about it, I admitted to myself. But then again, it’s Abby’s wedding and not mine.

“I…” she hesitated, drawing my eye, “…Don’t know. I wasn’t ready.” I raised my eyebrows at her, and she smiled weakly. "Well...as it turned out, you couldn't have come with anyway." Abby laughed, and I opened the notebook, turned to a blank page, and grabbed the pen from my pocket. “Tiffany and Eris found a wedding boutique...and I tried on a few dresses."

Finishing scribbling, I held up the page for Abby to read. Get back to the point!

She swallowed and nodded. “Oh-um- anyway, Josh?" She hesitated again and I waited patiently. "Are you...mad at me for...you know?"

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and scrawled VIRGINITY in big letters on the page. When she read it, Abby rolled her eyes and smacked my arm. I laughed silently to myself and glanced at the dress again.

She tugged my sleeve and pulled me so we could both listen to what he said. “I just… wanted it to be special for both of us, you know?” Josh explained slowly. “I wanted to wait because it’s a big deal for me, because I want it to be with someone I love and trust.” I could practically see the sheepish smile on his face. “And that’s you.”

Abby shot me a tragically helpless look, and I immediately began scribbling. I had no idea if she’d be able to read it once I was done, but I tried to express the sentiment as eloquently—and Abby-like— as possible.

“Even if you’re not my first,” she read, directly verbatim from the notebook, “It’ll still be as special to me as it is to you, because you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with…” She blinked at me, apparently not having read it before she recited it. I simply shrugged, and Abby tried to lighten the mood. “And I’ve only wanted you, and we’ve been together for a while… so it’ll be like my first all over again.”

I heard Josh laugh on the other end, and Abby took the opportunity to cover the receiver and whisper, “If you say any random fact about you know what, I'll kill you." I grinned but zipped my lips and returned to comparing dresses while she wrapped up with Josh.

See? I can be helpful when it matters.

“Love you too.” Abby hung up and sighed. “Alright, Eris. Hit me.”

“Biologically speaking, the hymen is simply a thin membrane of tissue, so depending on how long ago you last slept with someone, it being exactly like your first time could be a reality,” I informed her in one breath.

She stared at me a moment. “…I hate you for knowing things.” I beamed toothily at her.

“Oo, how about this one!” we both announced, reaching for the same dress. We exchanged a glanced and laughed. Apparently the bridesmaids would unanimously wear teal.

Tiffany, although she tried to argue for the strapless version in the same colour, was appeased when she saw that the dress was backless. “Can I try it on?” she asked excitedly, bouncing around with the dress.

“Absolutely!” the owner of the store said.

“I sure as hell won’t,” I commented, taking a seat again.

Beside me, Alex frowned. “Why not?” he demanded.

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Because you’re here.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a dress,” Jack observed, wearing a thoughtful expression.

“That’s my point,” I replied with a smile. Abby shook her head at us.

As we stood around the lobby and Abby put down her deposit on the dress, my phone beeped in my pocket. Text from Zack. When are you coming back youve been gone forever

I rolled my eyes at his complete disregard for punctuation and replied, Soon. You still at the apartment?

His reply came as we headed out of the store and towards my car. Nah back at the hotel. Party here?

Anything even remotely resembling a party that involved Tiffany, Josh, Alex, Jack, or any combination thereof was guaranteed to be nuts. I knew this quite well, and I remembered it as I flopped down in an armchair in one of the guys’ rooms.

Suddenly I felt incredibly tired, and not the normal ‘I need a nap’ kind of tired. Although, considering how much excitement the day had, being dead on my feet sounded about right. I was just as familiar with this kind of tired, and knowing what it was certainly didn’t help matters.

I loved Abby and Josh and all the guys, but having so many social, high-energy people around constantly drew on me worse than most people. And when you add all of the wedding planning I was helping with, it almost surprised me that I’d lasted this long without passing out.

But of course, some of our group were in full party-mode swing, and it was far too late to back out, and there was really no way of slipping out without someone trying to convince me to stay. I really didn’t want to draw attention to myself and go through the whole parade of saying goodbye to everyone, but I didn’t want to just sit there not talking to anyone and staring off into space and being a serious buzz kill. Because I was.

Zack had gone… somewhere… off with Couch, Rian, and Alex to… do something. Get booze, I thought. Somewhere. You know, maybe I really should start keeping track of my boyfriend, considering the people he hangs out with.

Josh and Abby were all happy coupley, and despite my aversion to mushy nonsense I didn’t want to deprive them of it. They had just gotten over a bump, after all. So I pulled out my phone and thanked my provider for unlimited texting because, seriously, texting someone halfway across the room is not only a waste, but incredibly lame and confrontation-ophobic of me.

Im not feeling too hot. Think imma head back to mine. I palmed my phone and returned to sitting with my arms crossed, the room and I mutually ignoring each other. It took a minute or two for the text to send, and I purposefully did not look up when a muffled version of “Jasey Rae” starting playing from Abby’s pocket. She frowned slightly as she dug out of her phone and read my text before shooting one back.

Luckily I remembered to put my phone on vibrate just before I received it. My ring tone for her was “This One’s A Cheap Shot”. Somehow we’d coincidentally picked each other’s boyfriend’s bands for each other’s ring tones, and there had to be someone clever enough to notice that.

You want company?

I smiled slightly and texted back, I couldn’t drag you away from your snookiecuddlelumpkins. Or whatever.

Abby snickered, rolling her eyes, and tilted the screen away from Josh when he craned his neck to peer at whatever was so amusing. I chewed the edge of my lip, looking away from them get into a mini lover’s quarrel, and wished the message would come faster. Text me if you need me for anything at all. <3

Glancing quickly around the room—Abby was distracting Josh and Jack had gone to the bathroom—I got up and left silently. Well, I guessed that letting someone know where I was before I disappeared like a ninja was a step up. The fact that no one would have noticed anyway made my stomach lurch, and I decided that I would walk back to my apartment to clear my head.

Not that it helped. I just kept thinking myself in circles as I walked, not really looking where I was going but getting there anyway. Occasionally the knowledge that I could (and probably should) blame my melancholy on having not talked to my therapist for two weeks, but that just led me to berating myself for being an imbecile for cancelling because of company, and it was all my fault, and… well, you can see how it went.

A few blocks away from my apartment, I sat down on a bench and exhaled. I had to consider how I felt rationally—contradictory, yes, but it’s how I operated. Truth to tell, I was a little tired of watching Abby and Josh. My aversion to cuteness aside, they were so happy, and when he wasn’t on tour, they could see each other every day, and now that they were getting married, I didn’t see how they could be happier.

I wasn’t exactly in the same boat, even though most people saw it that way. I almost never got to see Zack more than a day or two at a time, and when the band had breaks, we were still an eight-hour drive apart. Those were the worst, really, because I couldn’t take the time off to see him.

Sighing, I rolled my head back against the back of the bench and stared into the sky. Long-distance as it was, my relationship with Zack was the first that actually developed into something, which meant I was about 5 or 6 years behind the curve. How long would it take me to get married? Did I even want to?

I groaned as I pulled myself up and started walking again. What am I talking about? Why would anyone, especially Zack, even think about marrying me?

My legs burned, to match my aching chest and eyes, as I entered my apartment. I shut the front door so quietly Dexter didn’t even wake up in his little bed in the living room. Shrugging off my jacket, I didn’t bother calling to see if anyone was home; I couldn’t care less if they were, though was thankful they weren’t.

It meant that I felt less bad for turning my iPod up far louder than it should have been. Which I did. I had made a playlist, months and months before, of songs that moved me or helped me feel numb when I needed it. I would rather have felt nothing than the palate of sticky grey emotions swirling around.

So I lay sprawled on my bed, one foot propped up on the headboard and one arm hanging limply over my head, and tried to just forget life and let myself be absorbed into the music. I spent a lot less time doing that more recently than I used to, what with work and school, but that didn’t mean I didn’t try to pretend I didn’t exist.

In the middle of “Have To Drive”—a hero of mine, Amanda Palmer—I opened my eyes and noticed that I wasn’t alone, though I didn’t look away from the ceiling. Zack just had this kind of energy that made you notice him. He was standing in the open doorway of my bedroom, looking at me and seeming not to notice the music blasting.

Or maybe he did, since he turned it down before adjusting my legs flat and crawling over me to stretch out on the little space of bed there was left. I resisted the urge to cling to him and bury my face in his shirt, and instead squeezed his hand.

“I could hear you singing outside your front door,” he remarked with quiet casualty when the song ended.

I shrugged. “I keep saying I should take a vow of silence,” I replied a little hoarsely. I’d been singing rather loudly, after all.

Zack brushed a piece of hair away from my face. “You have a nice voice.” I pressed my eyes shut, determined swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t deserve you. “Why’d you leave without saying goodbye?”

“No one noticed.”

“I noticed.”

I drew a deep breath and relaxed. There was something wholly comforting about just being next to Zack; we were scarcely touching each other, but I could feel how warm he was. Warm and far too good for me. “Well, you… you found me, didn’t you?” I murmured, stumbling over my words to stop myself from voicing my self-deprecation. I turned my head suddenly, somehow startled when he was so close. “How did you get in?”

He gave an amused smile. “Stole Abby’s key.” I nodded slightly and turned back to the ceiling. The song changed to Third Eye Blind’s “Good Man” and Zack shifted closer, laying his arm around my stomach. A smile crept onto my face when he half-sung, half-hummed into my ear; I heavily lifted my hand to stroke his hair in the not-silence.

There was never a lot of stillness around either of us—occupational hazard—but somehow everything else settled into the background. When we were alone, it felt like the universe was holding its breath, afraid to break the hush.

When the song ended, he lifted his head away from my shoulder and I cracked my eyes open to gaze at him. “Want to tell me what’s wrong now?” he asked.

I licked my lips and thought about what to say before saying it; a habit I picked up from him. “…I haven’t been alone since Abby arrived,” I explained. “And I haven't talked to Mac. He had to cancel, and then you and Rian showed up, and then everyone else, and…” I shrugged. “It’s just emotional back-up, I guess. No need to alert the media.”

“Did you call to reschedule?” I nodded. “Good.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, and I turned onto my side, sliding my arm around him and settling into his chest; manoeuvring was a little difficult due to the close quarters, but we managed.

With him holding me close, I felt safe. The little romantic voice in my head said this was where I belonged, simply existing in the moment with Zack. The other voices kicked it for being stupid, but I knew it might have been right. This was home.

Or maybe I was just being sentimental over the song that was playing.

“I should get a bigger bed,” I said, not wanting to move.

I felt the vibration of his laugh in my teeth, and as weird as that sounds it was nice. “I’m in favour,” Zack announced. “But it’s a little pointless seeing how often I’m not here.” That reminder tugged at my stomach, but I deflected it with humour.

“Who said it was to fit you?” I gave him an innocuously bemused smile; he scoffed and continued playing with my hair. “It’s too short.”

“You sleep curled up.”

“Because my bed is too short!”

He chuckled and tilted my chin up to kiss me. “You make no sense,” he said.

“Don’t mock me because my logic transcends the normal person’s capabilities,” I retorted. Zack knocked his forehead against mine, smiling, and soon my false pomposity melted. “Okay, maybe it's a little bit to fit you."

He laughed. “Thought so.” Slowly Zack’s expression turned more serious. “I worry about you, you know.”

I sighed. We’d had this conversation before. “I know,” I sighed. “You shouldn’t, though. I’m better now.”

“It’s not like having the flu, Eris. You don’t just—” We both looked up, a jingling preventing me from responding. Dexter cocked his head at us and whined. Smiling I rolled out of bed and grabbed his lease and pooper-scooper from the kitchen. Zack opened the front door for me and took my hand once I locked it, though we both knew the conversation was far from over.

Now was better than average. Isn’t that what mattered?