Kicking Reality

I pull back, confused but quick to extend my hand to the girl standing quietly in the corner. She’s quite pretty. Exotic with a nice fashion sense. It’s my polite way of saying not everyone can rock a caftan but she certainly could.

“Hi, I’m Emerson, Ash’s sister.”

She smiles with nerves, biting down on her very white teeth. I’m amazed at how long her hair is: straight with a few blond foils reaching the tip of her waist.

“I’m Alessandra, I’ve heard a lot about you,” she speaks with an accent. It’s thick and by the way she rolls her Rs, I assume she’s from Spain.

“Oh,” I say looking in Logan’s direction. I didn’t think he would talk about me often but obviously he did. Odd, considering we weren’t that close anymore. “That’s nice of Logan to talk about—”

“Mom, Dad,” Ash interrupts me, moving closer to Alessandra and wrapping his arm around her waist. “Alessandra is my . . . my wife.”

My eyes spring wide open; jaw dropping to the ground with a crashing halt. His wife? When in God’s earth did this happen? He hadn’t even mentioned dating let alone marriage! This has to be some prank . . . Logan put him up to it. This wasn’t the first time they had done something like this. They would gang up on me all the time. Drove me insane.

We were known as the three troublemakers in the neighbourhood, and I considered myself one of the boys until I turned fourteen. I could smell a prank a mile away and this one is rotten.

“Excuse me?” Dad questions, clearing his throat. His normally fair skin looks beet red, a tell-tale sign he was fuming inside. I glance over at Mom, she looks equally as shocked.

“We got married, in Spain. Alessandra is my wife.”

“Married?” Dad repeats.

Ash nods, keeping his stare persistent and not blinking to challenge Dad. The two of them are just as stubborn as each other, and the longer this drags on, the more it becomes evident this is not a joke.

“When did this happen?” Mom asks in a calmer tone, disguising her shock.

Ash looks at Alessandra, thoughts passing between them, keeping the rest of us waiting impatiently.

“It happened last weekend. It sorta just happened.”

“You don’t sorta just get married, Ashley,” Dad grits, slamming his palm on the marble top. “You’re too young to be married!”

“I knew you’d say that!” Ash raises his voice, competing with Dad. “You had no problem when Emmy announced she was engaged. And to some dickhead she met on TV!”

“Hey!” I shout, quick to defend myself. “Don’t drag me into your mess. And thanks for thinking my fiancé is a dickhead!”

I storm out of the kitchen, walking to the back yard for fresh air. The nerve of him to throw me under the bus while he was fucking standing in front of it. My anger refuses to subside, the air not calming the heat burning through me as the weight of Ash’s decision sinks in. He got married and didn’t say a word. Like I was nothing and nobody to him. I could recall all the conversations we had over the past week and none of them alluded to this. That’s what fucking hurts right now. My brother hid the biggest thing to happen to him from me.

I continue to walk farther into the yard to stop myself from running back inside and yelling at him. My parents place sat on acres, and with a huge back yard, I wandered over to my favorite spot—the hammock that swung between the two large trees. Climbing in, I rock back and forth, staring at the sky.

We were twins. We shared a goddamn womb for nine months. No matter how much we fought, he always had my back. And perhaps he struck a nerve calling Wes a dickhead. Sure, Wes had his moments which unfortunately were caught on camera. But this wasn’t about Wes, this was about the betrayal I felt from my own brother.

“I told you it would send you in a tailspin.”

The sound of Logan’s voice startles me, yet I continue to rock back and forth, lost in a sea of thought.

“Are Mom and Dad grilling him?”

“I walked out when Chris said ‘I had more hopes for you son.’”

“Ouch.” Poor Alessandra. “But it’s not like Ash to be so . . .”

“Committed?”

“Yes.” I pull myself up, leaning on my elbows for support as I gaze directly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not my news to tell. Plus I think I’m still in shock. Move over.”

I wriggle my body over, allowing Logan to lay beside me—something we did often when we were both angry at Ash at the same time. Except we weren’t ten plotting to hit him with water balloons on the way to school.