Caged Birds Don't Like to Sing

The date of the wedding totally crept up on me. I had completely forgot about it. It still utterly made me frantic. And I didn’t even have a stupid dress. My parents had set up the colors, the decorations, the menus, and pretty much everything else. All I needed was the dress. And it must have slipped my mind. I didn’t even think I could order one right now. It was probably too late. I don’t even have an idea on what I want or where I could possibly get it.

I skittered quickly down the stairs and slid into the kitchen. I grabbed a cup of coffee and slipped on my shoes that I kept on the rack in the laundry room. By the time I walked into the kitchen to grab keys, Jackson was already up and waiting for me. He was so against me leaving.

The newspapers shuffled between his fingers. He lowered it so only his eyes and glasses peeked up above it. As he spoke, he folded it closed. “Do you really have to go?”

“Yeah. I need a job,” I insisted. I picked my purse up from the stool beside Jackson. I checked inside the bag to make sure everything was in there. I grabbed the keys off of the table.

“You don’t need one,” he reminded me as he leaned back in his chair. He did that so much and each time I felt like it was going to slip and he’d fall back.

I shot him a glare. “But I want one. You know that. It means alot to me.”

“Fine,” he muttered, fiddling with his glasses.

I started to search around for my phone. It wasn’t in my bag. “Where’s my phone?” I asked frantically as I started to backtrack my steps in my mind.

I looked back at Jackson as he slid up his thumb and two fingers. Between them dangled my phone. He had a smug smile on his lips. I reached for it and he moved it back. I groaned, “I’m going to be late.”

He puckered his lips. I leaned in and kissed him. As I did that, I took the phone into my hand. After that, I pulled away. “Thanks.”

“Love you,” he called as I started to leave.

“Back at ‘cha,” I said in return as I passed the coffee table at a brisk walking pace. Using the key to unlock the door, I hopped in quickly. Jackson would be stranded here until I got home. Tables are turned, aren’t they?

God, I hadn’t been this nervous in so long. This wasn’t the normal nerves I had from after a fight with Jackson. This was more of a premonition to embarrassing myself. It had been awhile since I tried to get a job. I didn’t even know what to expect. It almost sounded like a guaranteed job, but I didn’t want to expect too much. Johnny couldn’t just hire any old goob off the street.

Once I pulled up the the building, I released the steering wheel. My white knuckles had the color fade back into them. I bent them multiple time to get some blood flow into them.

“It’s gonna be fine,” I mumbled to myself, taking deep breaths.

I looked over to the building. It was tall and lean, towering over the city greatly. I’m surprised I found the place so quickly. I left early just in case I got lost. All I had was some street names to follow that I kept on my phone.

I got out of the car, finally, and started to walk towards the gigantic building. I clicked the button that locked the car on the way. I shoved the keys into my purse and gripped the strap tightly.

The lobby was clean, slick, and all white. Over the counter, I could barely see a spot of blond hair. I walked over and my heels, if barely two inch shoes can be considered a heel, clicked as I did so. I tried to make it not obvious though.

“Hello there,” the lady behind the counter greeted. I smiled slightly at her. My nerves were getting the best of me.

“I’m here for a job interview. For Johnny Weir,” I explained in a voice that was shake-y.

“Hmm,” she thought aloud. She rolled in her chair on wheels and scanned the computer screen. Her fingers were typing at a crazy speed and her hand on the mouse clicked just as fast. I waited patiently, secretly hoping that it would take long so I could collect my composure. I took another deep breath.

“Are you Marissa Rathbone by chance?” she asked, looking up from the screen.

I cringed at the name. “Not yet. Well, pretty much. I’m engaged and my last name is going to be Rathbone. So technically I am Marissa Rathbone now. I guess. Well, going to be.” I rambled on. I couldn’t tell if it was the nervousness of the interview or the fact that the wedding is tomorrow that made me so frazzled. I just assumed it was a mixture of both.

She smiled awkwardly at me. I made the situation weird with all of the mumbo-jumbo I just dumped on her. I could feel my cheeks get pink and I looked away.

“It seems as if you already have the job.” She paused, noticing my sudden red cheeks, probably, “Are you alright?” she asked, concerned this time.

“What?” I scrambled over the desk and looked at the screen. Her perfectly manicured finger pointed to my name. “I’m just fine,” I added on quickly, shuffling back in place and patting out my outfit.

“Just take the elevator,” she pointed behind her to the left. “to floor twenty-three. It’s office 1304. It’s one of the only ones on the floor.”

“Thanks,” I said calmly. Then shuffled away to the elevator.

I hate elevators. I hate them with a deep and burning passion. I always felt like I’d be the one to get stuck in that small, compact room. It would have an electrical wire snap and I’d lose electricity and be stranded in the dark. Then slowly run out of air. Or the wires would just snap all together and I’d fall to my death. I probably sound like a loon now. I wasn’t nervous about the job anymore. This had to be the pre wedding jitters.

Once I finally reached floor twenty-three - do you understand how long that takes? - I found office 1304. I entered to see a bunch of doors around another middle lobby. This place is huge.

In the lobby, so to speak, was a small area with some black couches around a glass coffee table. The black contradicted the white everywhere else and made everything seem so neat and clean. On the couch was Johnny. He sat with his legs crossed and his hands draped over the back of the couch.

“You didn’t say you’d be handing me the job,” I said, still awestruck with all of this. I walked closer and he patted the couch, smiling still. I sat beside him.

“Well you stuck out more to me. It just made sense,” he said energetically. He pulled out a paper on a clipboard, readying himself for a quick questionaire for me. “You’re not a drug dealer or courtesan are you?”

I shook my head. “Of course not.”

He made two check marks on the paper. “I thought so. Are you a sex offender or have you ever been in jail?”

“No!”

He made two more checks. “That was all I needed to know. We’re done.”

“That was easy,” I sighed, a little more relieved.

He moved on the couch and faced me as he sat Indian style. His glittering pair of shoes caught my eyes. He never wore anything that didn’t have glitter. “So, now for the more important questions,” he chirped. “When’s the wedding?”

I started to tense up again. I almost forgot again. I still need a dress. I groaned, “Tomorrow.” My head fell into my hands in exasperation

“Tomorrow?” He gasped.

“Yeah, you can come if you want,” I offered in a quiet voice. I was stressed out again and my mind was racing. I needed more company there than just Jackson.

“You don’t have to invite me,” he insisted, but still flattered.

“No, really. Come. I insist.”

He smiled again. It curled up in one corner. It almost reminded me of Jackson’s wry smile. “Thanks. So what’s the dress look like?”

“You see,” I began sheepishly. “I completely forgot to pick one up.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s a problem.”

“Tell me about it,” I breathed. I bent my arm and pressed the elbow to the back of the couch, leaning my cheek against the palm of my hand.

“I do have some wedding magazines. We could pick something out,” he suggested.

“You don’t have to do that,” I assured and sat up as he walked off.

“No, no. You need a dress.”

I watched him scurry off down the hall to a room on the left. I assumed that room was his personal office. He came back with a stack of magazines that almost was higher than his poof of hair. He had such a small frame that I couldn’t help but smile to see him try and carry all of those magazines.

“All of those are bridal magazines?” I gawked, looking at the huge amount. He dropped them on the coffee table with a thud. I’m surprised the fragile table didn’t shatter into bits.

“Only the best ones,” he smiled like a diva.

His dainty fingers flipped through random pages, then either setting the magazine in one pile or the other. He was sorting them in some way. “Oh,” he finally said, licking his finger and flipping through the pages. “This one’s my favorite.”

He handed the book to me and I took it, looking through the pages. There were at least one hundred pages of just dresses. So many of them spun around in my head. I was looking for my wedding dress. I’ve never even thought about getting married. And now I was forced to scramble through all of these dresses that looked like they would eat me in one bite.

Johnny looked from the pages, to me, then back to the pages. He was practically twitching with the enjoyment of helping me find the ‘dress of my dreams.’ If that even existed.

“Do you have an idea of what you want?” he asked as he grabbed another book. “A-line, mermaid, or maybe even a ball gown.” He started to look my body up and down.

I was overwhelmed with all the fancy terms. I turned to him, confused with what he had even said. He laughed. “Well, stand up.”

I obeyed and placed the magazine in my spot on the couch.

He scrutinized my whole body, pursing his lips in thought. “You’re very petite,” he pointed out. I nodded. “You couldn’t get away with a ball gown.” I raised an eyebrow, reminding him I didn’t know what he meant by ‘ball gown.’ “You know, the big poofy ones. It would probably wear you instead of you wearing it.”

I lightly giggled. He was lightening the mood and easing my stress. “So what does that leave me with?” I asked, sitting back down and flying through the pages.

“An a-line or mermaid or something.”

I flipped to the pages that were under the ‘A-Line’ category. “I like these. I’m not a fan of the tight ones.”

He clasped his hands together. “I have a great one for you.”

He took the book from my hands and fluttered through the pages. Some part of me guessed he had the whole thing memorized. He seemed like he had a GPS of the whole thing trapped in his head.

“This one!” He planted his finger on the page.

It was a beautiful dress. It had a sweetheart top and was an a-line. Well, that was what it said in the margin of the page. t was form fitting in the top and as it reached my waist, flared out with soft ruffling to the bottom. I loved it already.

“It’s gorgeous,” I awed.

“It’ll look great on you, Marissa,” he egged on.

“I can’t get it by tomorrow, though,” I sighed, leaning back in the chair. My beautiful mental pictures of me in a beautiful gown walking down the aisle to Jackson faded away. Once I realized what I was imagining, I was glad they went away. I wanted to slap myself out of these childish fantasies. Nothing was going to change by us getting married.

“I bet we can,” Johnny piped. “I know a good place around here. I bet they’ll carry it.”

“You like wedding stuff, don’t you?”

He grabbed my hand and tugged me up. “I love it,” he corrected.

I came back later that night. The dress was amazing and fit like a glove. Well, after they tailored it a bit. It took hours to get out of there. But totally worth it. Johnny even let me keep the dress at his place so Jackson couldn’t sneak a peek.

After the dress ordeal, I went out to get some dinner with Johnny. We chatted about work things, the wedding, and plans after that. He was surprised that we weren’t going on a honeymoon. I had to explain how I didn’t want anything too formal. Plus we could take one another time. I also said I’d be back at work the day after. That surprised him even more. He insisted that I didn’t come in, but I wanted to. I didn’t want to miss work on the first few days.

Late at night, I snuck back into the house. Everything was dark and I didn’t want to wake up Jackson. I silently dropped my purse on the couch and started to head upstairs. I hoped he wasn’t too angry that I wasn’t home most of the day.

A light flicked on. “Where were you all day?”

I turned around, Jackson was leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“I was at work. Well, not really work. It was just my interview thing. If you could call it that. I got the job though!” I excited. I was so ecstatic about that and the dress, I didn’t even notice his fuming anger.

“You could have called. I’ve been worried sick. I thought you’d be home soon,” he snapped, walking closer.

“Calm down,” I hushed. “I got the dress.”

“You did?” he asked in a surprised tone. His growing anger faded away after I said those words.

“Yeah. That’s why I was gone so long. And I went to dinner. I’m sorry.”

He sighed, “As long as you’re alright, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.” I pecked his cheek and squeezed him into an embrace. I then skittered off to bed.

“See you at the aisle,” he called.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” I called back.

“No,” he replied. “It’s not the tradition.”

I groaned and peeked back from the stairs. “I have to take the guest bed, don’t I?”

He nodded with a smug grin.