When Sparks Fly

“Holy crap, why didn’t you tell me?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I already have the answer.

London raises a brow.

Over the past week I’ve been able to wean myself off the painkillers. Am I still uncomfortable? Sure. But I’m healing, and I’d rather things hurt a little than feel like my brain is made of mush. “You know you can start bringing me back in on the planning side of things. I can do more than answer emails and like social media posts. Let me make some phone calls. I can talk to the bride, maybe smooth things over. My body might not work, but my brain and my mouth do.”

“We know. We just don’t want you to dive back in full tilt, which is exactly how you kind of do things.” London folds a strip of paper between her fingers. She’s obsessed with making origami stars. She keeps them in boxes at Spark House and uses them as table decorations at events. I’m sure she could fill a bathtub with them, at the very least. I keep telling her she should open an Etsy store since she’s so crafty. From penis piñatas to paper stars, she can turn almost anything into something beautiful. She keeps saying she’d love to but doesn’t have the time.

I motion to my leg and hold up my casted arm. “I can’t really jump into anything full tilt, but I’m feeling so much better, and I’d like to ease back in. Let me help where I can. What are bridezilla’s major issues? Let’s problem solve.” I’ve missed this. Over the past few weeks the focus has solely been on healing, and I need to feel useful, like I have value.

“I think it would be easier to tell you what isn’t an issue,” Harley mumbles.

London shoots her a look and Harley shrugs. “Well, it’s true, and we could honestly use the help.”

“Oh man, this must be really bad. Why don’t we go over what you have prepared and what we can change to make her happy?”

“A personality transplant might be effective,” London gripes, finally giving in a little, maybe because of Harley’s honesty.

I bark out a laugh. “Well, since we’re not in the personality transplant field, let’s see what other options we have.”

It feels good to be doing something other than binge-watching terrible TV shows and movies.

It also means Declan was able to go into work today and run some necessary errands. As much as he tells me he’s happy to work from home, I’m aware this hasn’t been easy on either of us. Being productive feels amazing.

“She’s worried the obstacle course is going to be too hard, and she doesn’t want to end up with an injury right before the wedding.”

I flip through my tablet, scanning the timeline with a frown. “The bachelorette party is two months before the wedding, though.”

“That is correct,” Harley says with pursed lips and a long exhale through her nose.

“And she’s worried about injuries that last two months?” I recognize the irony considering my predicament, but running an obstacle course and being in a car accident are not the same thing.

“She’s been watching wedding disaster videos, and now she’s freaking out about everything,” London says.

I roll my eyes. “Why do people do that?” Although, to be quite honest, I’d been obsessively looking at the research about multiple breaks and the lasting impacts this accident could have on my body. It was making me anxious, so I had to stop.

“People like to control the uncontrollable,” Harley says.

She’s not wrong, considering it’s what I’ve been trying to do since they released me from the hospital. I’m beginning to see exactly how much of a challenge things at Spark House have been for my sisters. I’m usually the one talking clients off the ledge.

“Okay, so let’s fix what we can so she’s more comfortable. Since we’re hosting the bachelorette party and the wedding, we need to make sure the bride feels good about whatever we have planned,” I say. “Is her mother still taking the lead on the wedding preparations or has that changed?”

“Mom is still the go-to, for now, but the closer we get to the bachelorette party, the more involved the bride gets. Which I totally understand. Unfortunately she keeps changing her mind about things, and you know how hard it is to rush order stuff, not to mention expensive.” London tosses another star on the coffee table, adding to the small pile she’s created while we’ve been chatting.

“Okay, so she’s worried the current obstacle course has too much potential for bruising. What if we do something water-oriented instead?”

London’s eyes light up. “That might work. We did that event last year for the water polo team. Maybe we can recycle some of that stuff?”

“We might be able to. Water courses can be fairly simple, and we can use the indoor pool.”