Stories from the Back of His Motorcycle

“Twirl Alice, see if you can move in it properly.”

I couldn’t help but grimace as I moved stiffly round in a circle, the mirrors on every side showing me just how disgusted I was at the whole situation. The offensive dress was pink and fluffy and swung uncomfortably with me until it got caught under my foot. It took everything I had not to curse as I tripped, and it took even more to keep my body rigid in case the damn monstrosity ripped.

The last thing I substantially remembered was being at home, flicking absently through channels before the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang. Normally, while lounging around in a giant tee-shirt and bed shorts, I wouldn’t answer yet the ringing was slowly but surely driving me insane. Nick was out at his job I had yet to properly learn about so I forced my feet into motion and opened the door myself.

It took me all of three seconds to regret my decision as El flung her arms around my shoulders and pulled me close. She’d dyed her hair since I’d seen her a few weeks ago; it no longer shone an unnatural yellow but settled into a light brown. At least that was something I could talk about with her. Making sure to steer clear of lasagne and Vaughn, anything which would remind her of the unpleasant ordeal where we’d last parted. Just remembering it myself had me twitching uncomfortably, praising a God that I didn’t believe in for making El come alone this time.

And then El whisked me away in her large car to some wedding shops in town that I had never noticed before. She had the serving women entranced in her ideal wedding jabber in a few minutes flat which left me to examine my nails and wonder just what the hell I was doing with myself when there was an entire season of House being repeated on TV. Vaughn was busy today; otherwise he’d be with me watching House.

“Try these on Alice,” El had practically thrown multiple dresses on top of me “I bet they’ll look lovely!”

So I stood before the eyes of El and the brainwashed attendants in a hideous regurgitation of pink which made my skin look ridiculously pale, barely able to keep my footing.

“It’s a bit tight,” I said lightly while pulling the seam to show just how much room I had to breathe.

“But it’s the perfect colour for my scheme and it makes you look absolutely divine, don’t you think girls?” El turned pointedly to the women who all cooed and murmured words of agreement. I tore my eyes away from them to examine myself closer in the mirror, wondering just how the thing made me look anything close to divine.

“Maybe I’ll try on a few others,” I cried desperately, eyeing the pile to my right with a small glimmer of hope. Hopefully something in there would be remotely presentable and wouldn’t make me look like a cake’s icing. But then, knowing El’s obvious adoration for the colour pink, I thought that was highly unlikely.

“Of course sweetie, it’s good to have a range of options.”

And yet none of them were any better. I was growing to hate the colour pink above all else by the time we had found the one. It wasn’t my choice, of course, but then the wedding wasn’t my choice, or the time, or the whereabouts, or the fact that it was to my estranged eldest brother.

“That’s it! That’s the one,” El shrieked as if someone had just trod on her foot, practically hopping with excitement. I frowned down at the dress before shrugging. At least it wasn’t too tight. And I could smuggle my own shoes underneath because the ruffled material reached the ground – I was opposed to high heels far more than the colour pink. Already being 5,10 ft made me one of the tallest girls in my neighbourhood and heels would just distinguish all of my remaining femininity,

El was clapping her hands ecstatically when her phone erupted. She whipped it out, unfazed, and chirped a happy hello with a smile so big I had to turn away. She made me uncomfortable, made me aware that I wasn’t doing cartwheels or yelling in joy at every little thing in my life. Somehow around El, that felt wrong.

But then everything changed. It was as if someone had just turned off the oppressive lights, had paused background music that I hadn’t even noticed was there until it no longer was. The mood dropped so suddenly that I felt a twinge in my body, sore from whiplash.

El pulled the phone away from her ear slowly. She ended the call with a soft, shaking thumb. Eyes previously lit up with the excitement of her first wedding were obscured by eyelids that had fallen, as if exhausted by the entire ordeal.

I watched as her face just crumpled, her body soon following suit. The women hovering around saw it too and were quick to remember other little jobs they had to do around the shop. I was still strapped in a dress not fit for human sight but there was something so defeated about El that it had me tottering forwards. There wasn’t any second guessing or pre-planning because otherwise I would have turned right around to hide in the small changing room.

“Was it Ross?” I asked, referring to the mystery person on the other end of the phone who had cast such a dark cloud over her. It wasn’t rational that I felt angry towards them. El wasn’t my sister, wasn’t even my friend and yet my instincts were imploring me to go out and find this person, kick their ass and make them apologise to El.

There was this lack of aura around her, her usually perfect, happy face was drawn with slanted eyebrows unable to take the weight of the world any longer. I realized how small she was then. It was easy to forget her tiny height when there was a larger-than-life smile dominating the room. She was vulnerable; she wasn’t the girl I’d thought my brother would eventually bring home.

She shook her head, sprinkling golden hair around her face. It was like standing next to a ten year old Delia all over again, knowing she was too proud to cry and knowing she was too upset to smile. We’d just stand there for what seemed forever until one of us broke – and it would normally be me who couldn’t take her trembling lip or pained facial expression. It’d be unsaid words thick between us as I held her; it’d be what made us such a good pairing. And standing next to El made my stomach lurch with missing my best friend.

“It’s nothing,” even her voice shook “something unimportant, Alice.”

I didn’t believe her, not for one single second. I knew that expression better than I should; I knew that whatever had been said over the phone was very important.

“Maybe we should just get out of here; it’s starting to kind of creep me out.” Because the limp wedding dresses just begging to be tried on, inescapable mirrors on every side, were messing with my mind. Were making me wish I’d really never opened the front door that morning.

“No,” El protested loudly “we need to get the dresses picked out today. The marriage is scheduled for two months and hardly anything is arranged at all.” There was a slightly unhinged tone to her voice which made me reluctant to push the matter. I was also stunned at how quickly the marriage was approaching.

“2 months? Is that it? I thought you were waiting until you returned… home.” I didn’t know where they normally lived, only that they’d been staying in a hotel a few miles from my house.

She sent me a wet, unguarded smile “this is home now Alice.”

I shivered, unsure about how to feel or react to that. “Well… isn’t that nice?” I hadn’t meant it to be a question, my tone betrayed me.

“Oh God,” El clasped a hand to her forehead and moaned “I need a smoke.”

I blinked in surprise. El smoked? I just couldn’t picture it. She was the cute, bubbly, girl with big dreams of a white wedding, not the rock & roll chick poised with a fuming cigarette between her fingers. But then, in my bias mind, I could only see Vaughn smoking. That was his thing.

I shuffled uncomfortably in the dress, cringing when the awkward silence was pierced by the ruffle of too-much-material. El shook her head slowly, squinting her eyes shut so tightly that I began to wonder if she was in physical pain. There was so much I didn’t know about this woman. So many cues I didn’t understand, so many expressions I couldn’t read. I hated being clueless as I loitered beside her.

“Do you want to… talk about it?” I struggled with the word, hoping inwardly that she wouldn’t and that she’d return back to the annoyingly ecstatic girl who loved the most ghastly shades of pink. I could cope with her in that state. I could cope with her default.

El rubbed at her eyes furiously, leaving smudges of black all across her upper cheeks. Curious passersby were giving us perplexed looks as they walked along the high street fully visible through the large store windows. At the strange girls standing in the middle of the bridal shop.

“It’s just my damn father,” she whispered.

And with that I took her hand in mine and led her into the changing room which was even more cramped with two people in. The violet curtain wouldn’t block out sounds but at least El wouldn’t have nosy people pressing their noses against the glass.

I knew all about damn fathers. I knew all about damn families. If there was anything I understood it was that blood was as thick as sand – it varied, it wasn’t always constant, you could grab a handful and watch it slowly seep away.

“He just called. He told me that he doesn’t want anything to do with the marriage. He said that I was making a huge mistake, that Ross wasn’t the right guy.” She was so close to tears I could see them even before they sparked. “He already had this boy picked out for me, he’s not kind or handsome or even interesting! Mom understands that I love Ross but Daddy won’t even speak to me anymore.”

Impulsively, I pulled the small girl to me and let her mascara tears run on the dress. No doubt El didn’t have any idea what it was like to be ignored by her father until today. She was too sweet and open to have gained the knowledge that some people were narrow-minded, would tear you down if given the chance. As with Delia, I wanted to protect that, praying that for El at least it wasn’t too late.

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” I murmured.

She just nodded into my shoulder, fighting to control her breathing and the tears still making tracks down her cheeks. For some reason the girl had fallen for my brother, truly thought she loved him, and I was smart enough to realise that she was good for him. He thought too much with his fists and was too spontaneous for his own wellbeing. I’d always feared that one day Ross would end up alone having driven away all his other girlfriends with acts of possessiveness. El, however, seemed to find this endearing. She was the best match for him, one I’d not thought real or possible.

“Maybe you’re right Alice,” she said when she’d pulled away, the black makeup desecrating her whole face “we should just get out of here.”

I shocked myself by cracking a smile. “Let’s not be rash now, you said yourself that the wedding’s only in two months and the dresses are very important. It is, after all, your head bridesmaid’s dress.”

El’s eyes lit up as if the sun had just emerged from a cloud and, without any thought or consideration, jumped into me and hugged me tightly. So tightly that I was even more concerned that the dress would rip. And the changing room would burst.

“You’re a beautiful person, Alice,” she screeched, obviously too excited by the fact that I was to be her head bridesmaid.

I didn’t know what had made me say it, made me give in to her. It was possibly guilt carried over from Delia and how, indirectly, I’d been the reason behind her horrible break up and then to top it off I’d been a horrible friend. Or it could have been general submission, lack of energy. Possibly my ice cold heart was melting, mainly thanks to Vaughn Hart, and I wasn’t just looking out for myself any longer. I liked to believe though that it was El herself who’d given me the motivation. Maybe the girl and I weren’t such polar opposites. After all she was to be my new sister and, in some recess of my heart, I was looking forward to that.