“What’s new? With me? Not much, just enjoying my freedom.” I tell her, shrugging, wanting her to think that her life — being married with a toddler—isn’t something I envy. Maybe that is totally petty of me, to not give her the satisfaction of knowing despite her pantyhose, her life looks damn good from where I’m sitting. “I’m busy with my business. I’m working on a lot of custom pieces right now. I like this work more than the line I designed for the Westwood Gallery in the fall.”
“Oh, so your shop is taking off, then? You’re able to do this hobby full-time?” This condescending line is from Sophia’s newer friend Janet. Janet and Sophia are tennis partners. And they’re hosting this amazing gala in the spring. A tennis gala. Because that is apparently a thing.
I’m trying to not roll my eyes at Janet, but obviously, I’m doing a poor job of it because Sophia rests her hand on my arm.
“Don’t take it so personally. Janet is just being a brat.”
There are a few things I really, really hate in this world. One of them is when people tell me to not take something so personally. Why the fuck would I not take a personal comment personally.
“Whatever.” Usually, shrugging is my defense mechanism but right now I don’t have the urge to shrug. Maybe I’m not feeling defensive. Maybe I’m feeling actually pretty badass. Looking at these women— all three of them, I know in my gut that they have no reason to judge me.
Just because they have gigantic diamond rings on their ring fingers, designer everything and husbands and fiancés and toddlers and McMansions in the suburbs of Denver and impressive tennis swings and destinations weddings doesn’t mean they are superior to me.
I have a thriving business. I have my own condo. I pay my own bills and bought a Mini-Cooper last year on my own, and I’m proud of who I am.
Just as I’m about to jump into another inner monologue about how awesome I am, Sophia gasps at the sight of her wedding gown. I don’t blame her. It takes my breath away too..
“Oh my God, Sophia, it’s so beautiful,” Cecily coos. It’s true, Sophia’s gown is exquisite. It’s strapless with a full skirt in white satin. It looks made for a winter wedding, in the snow in Whistler. The skirt is edged in fur, the train has a million sparkling crystals sewn on, creating a glittering snowscape on white. I was with her when she first picked it out, but since then, the trim has been added and the crystals tripled. It’s made for an ice queen.
“It’s more beautiful than I remembered.” Sophia covers her mouth, tears pricking her eyes. The attendant whisks her away to the dressing room to get her into her gown.
“I just love that they’re having a destination wedding,” Janet says.
“Oh, me too, it’s going to be so much fun. But first, we’ve got to finalize the bachelorette party. It’s coming up soon. And with the holidays it’s gonna be super busy. What do you think?”
Janet and Cecily launch into bachelorette party plans—a party bus, a dozen invitees, a male stripper. Classic, and also, it’s obvious they have a handle on the event.
They are right that it’s a busy time of the year. It’s just a few weeks until Christmas, a week after that is New Year’s, and then the bachelorette party will be a few weeks after that.
Next thing you know, it will be Valentine’s Day weekend and we’ll all be in Whistler.
I feel like the wedding is speeding up time, but also, the emails I’ve been exchanging with HeartofGold have been speeding up time, too.
It’s strange how someone I don’t really know, has found a way to get to the heart of things with me.
I’ve never dated someone who wanted to know my deepest feelings and my fears. I’ve never been with a man who wanted me to tell him more about myself. Who asks questions. And makes me laugh and bring tears to my eyes with his reflections.
And maybe that is an embarrassing tragedy. That I’ve never had a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding. I don’t know what that says about me, probably nothing good.
But that’s okay, I think. Because I don’t need a list of relationships that ended in happily ever after. I just need one.
My sister walks from the dressing room looking radiant and glowing. Everyone smiles, telling her it fits like a glove.
“Okay, you ladies have dresses to try on too,” the attendant tells us before ushering us out of the sitting room.
I change quickly, and when I fasten the eyehook on the side, I take it all in. Thankfully the dress is very flattering. Although modest, it’s the perfect dress for a Valentine’s Day wedding. A-line with cap sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, in red satin. I step out and raise my arms. “Ta-da!”