Eighteen

Eighteen

17 hours until the wedding

After taking too long in the bathroom, I came back to find that my cousin unknowingly stole my seat, and I was left sandwiched in between my parents for the rest of the night, which wasn't a bad place to be. My dad kept telling me to check my phone for funny pictures, even though I purposely left the distracting device at home, while my mom casually rubbed my arm, and twirled my ponytail in between conversations with Ben's dads.

I ordered a big beautiful plate of penne alla vodka to fill the gaping hole in my stomach, and as I proceeded to shove the pink sauce covered penne shaped pasta into my mouth, my eyes darted up and met the dark brown gaze sitting all the way at the other end of the table. As I sat there hunched over the table with my mouth full of pasta, I couldn't help but think that this is the second time in my life that Nathaniel Graham has payed witness to my chubby chipmunk cheeks. The only difference is, instead of attempting to smile, I decided to jut up the knife in my right hand, and give him an Edward Scissor Hand type thumbs up before turning away to gag at my own stupidity.

My steps are sluggish as I trudge into my room with the hallway light as my guide. My black ballet socks happily accept the transition of hardwood floor to carpet as I continue to slide them against the floor.

I enjoyed every minute of the food I stuffed into my face, but now I'm feeling bloated and fatigued. I blame all the salt and sugar I consumed opposed to the little bit of alcohol I was given since I switched to strictly water for the rest of the night. The switch also allowed me to take frequent trips to the bathroom, but after a while I even became too full to do that.

"Just so—"

The murderous scream I emit is not appropriate for this time of night, but I think my sleeping neighbors are so used to my antics by now that they will happily continue to forget I exist, opposed to being alarmed.

"Girls!" my dad's shout rings throughout the house for the second time tonight.

"Sorry!" I weakly call back before whipping my head back around to face my older sister. "Aubrey," I hiss when she continues to just sit on her old bed as if she didn't just scare me to death.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to warn you that I was in here before you completely stripped."

My hands tighten around the blouse I wore today as my arms have it now coiled around my half naked torso. I continue to stand there for a second as the air in the room chills my spine before turning back around.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before." I shrug because its true before dropping the blouse on my bed and stripping out of my dress pants.

Even though I prefer not to see my older sister butt-naked, after sharing a room for most of our lives, we've grown up changing in front of each other all the time.

After throwing my green and blue tied dye shirt over my head to match my green and blue plaid pajama bottoms, I grab a new pair of clean socks, and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. On my way back, I switch off the hallway light and flick on my bedroom light.

"So, you guys are doing the whole not seeing each other before the wedding day thing?" I say, curious as to why Aubrey also happens to be sporting her own pair of pajama bottoms and big t-shirt.

"Yeah." Is the only syllable to fall past her lips.

I stand there for a second waiting to see if she'll continue, but as she continues to stare into space, I flop down on my own bed. I pick up the phone I left stranded on my floral comforter and begin aimlessly scrolling through it.

After scrolling through a few funny videos, I see Aubrey get up in my peripheral vision. I let out a snort at something I read as my sister begins digging through the stuff under her bed.

The time passes.

I continue to watch videos and snort, while sister continues to move stuff around. Although I'm tired, my thumb betrays my conscious and continues to click on things.

"We were just kids."

"What?" I automatically say when my brain doesn't fully register the whispered words.

"We were just kids," Aubrey repeats a little louder.

I turn my head to the left to find my sister's toes curling into the carpet as she sits with her back resting against the side of her bed and a photo album resting on her legs.

"We were." I finally acknowledge her statement before sitting up.

I reach up and slowly pull the hair tie out of my head. The last few pieces of my hair get caught in a knot, and it takes me a few seconds to untangle them before I let my hair fall down my back.

"We're so old." Aubrey's voice echoes into the room.

"We are," I say as I let my tired eyes wander.

I find the black dress pants I left crumpled on the floor, and a picture that's a few shakes away from falling off the corkboard hanging above Aubrey's bed before my eyes finally land on the white plastic poking out of my closet door. The white plastic that contains my plum colored maid of honor dress.

"You're getting married tomorrow." My voice now echoes against the light green and teal walls confining us.

"I am." Aubrey's voice is small as if she can no longer believe it herself.

I look up to find my sister still sitting there, staring down at the photo album in her hands. Her dark red hair is thrown up in another messy bun, and she seems like she's a few blinks away from trading her contacts in for her glasses. She looks so small as she sits there curled up in herself, and I can't help but think this may be one of the last times she'll ever sit there. This may be one of the last times she'll ever sit here, in this room with me.

So . . . I go and sit beside her.

"You were an alien baby," I mumble when I catch sight of Aubrey's big, bald baby head covering a majority of a picture, and my arm receives a whack.

"So were you."

We continue to turn the pages of the photo album. It contains a mix of memories. The pictures range from red faced, doe eyed babies to gap toothed gremlins running around without a care in the world.

"Oh my gosh." Aubrey gasps. "How fitting." My sister's French manicured nail taps against a photo of her eight-year-old self, wearing our mom's wedding dress.

"Dress-up was our favorite game." I laugh at the way I'm standing in one of the pictures. My toes are pointed inwards as I struggle to wear my mom's black heels all the while wearing my dad's old hockey helmet.

I could laugh about all the times one of us tumbled down the stairs in the middle of one of our fashion shows.

"Oh gosh." Aubrey cringes after we turn the page while my laugh is way too loud.

Both of us are sporting fairy wings and clown like smiles. The red lipstick we slopped all over our faces not only explains why we are hiding under the table, but also why the camera flash gave us red devil-like eyes.

"We were funny." I smile at the little girls in the picture.

They've got fire in their eyes and fiery red hair, and I don't think that will ever change.

"You know . . ." Aubrey sighs. "Looking at pictures always makes me sad."

My laughter is now filled with confusion. "Why?"

A frown tugs at my sister's lips. "I don't know. I just look at that girl, and I know that's me, but I don't remember how it felt to be her. I know I was happy because I'm smiling, but I want to know what's behind it. What was going on in my head in that exact moment."

I let her words settle in to my skin before saying, "I never thought about it that way."

"I don't know." My sister shrugs before laughing. "It just kind of makes my heart hurt."

My hand instantly finds my chest. "I feel that."

Aubrey whacks my arm again and goes to flip the page, but I fling my hand out to stop her.

"I'm serious. The fact that that's me hits me in the gut every time, but before I can let myself get upset I think again. That girl is me, and she's smiling, and happy, and although I'm sad that time moves so fast, I'm thankful that life happened, and that we are still here today—smiling, and happy. When I smile I know part of me is smiling for her." My finger lands on the little watermelon stomach I used to have, and for a split second I can hear the laughter I'm emitting in the photograph.

My head turns to the left when Aubrey's gaze doesn't waver from the side of my head. We stare back at each other for a few seconds before she looks away to rub at her eyes. I allow my eyes to wander over all the pictures on the page before Aubrey covers them with that still big ass head of hers. She sits there with her arms coiled around her legs and her face planted in the book before she groans.

"I can't—" Her voice breaks. "I can't do this."

Now it was my turn to whack her. "You are the last person that I thought would get cold feet."

"No." Aubrey groans again before finally lifting her head. She swipes at both her eyes before turning to look at me.

I blink a few times in surprise upon seeing her eyes are glazed, and if that didn't already give it away, the patches of red covering her make-up less face are evidence of the tears that have yet to fall.

"I can't pretend that I'm not the biggest b*tch on the entire planet."

I open my mouth to protest, but Aubrey quickly holds her hand up. She shakes her head as she drops her hand back down and tilts her head up towards the ceiling. She blinks a few times and swallows before meeting my gaze again.

"I'm so sorry for what I said." She holds her nose for a second before her hand drops away to reveal the tears that begin to slip down her cheeks. "I didn't mean any of it."

"It's okay." I laugh only because I know she's going to make me cry.

"No, it's not. I've always been jealous of you and the way you see the world. You look on the bright side, and you've never cared about what people think, and you even wore sparkly, ruby red slippers for crying out loud!" my sister throws her hand out towards the album she pushed off her lap and gestures to the specific picture I pointed to before.

My giggling form is sporting a Shirley temple like haircut with tiny curls that are the lightest shade of red. My striped leggings match my t-shirt, but I paired it all with the sparkly, ruby red shoes I wore from the time I turned two years old until I was six. At least that's what my mom always claims since she was the one that had to buy me a new pair every time my feet grew.

The smile on my face is double decker, showcasing both my top and bottom teeth, and turns my eyes into happy lines. Who knows what I was laughing at. All I know is, the laughter that pours out of me right now must give me the same exact expression.

"Why are you laughing?" my sister whines.

"Because!" I double over as I wheeze out a few more silent chuckles before finally straightening back up. "Because I've always been jealous of you. You and your perfect friends, and your perfect grades, perfect job, and soon . . . perfect husband."

"I'm honored, but that is the farthest thing from the truth." Aubrey quickly wipes at her nose. "Don't get me wrong. I love Ben. I don't know where I'd be without him." Tears bubble up in the corners of her eyes again as she sucks in a harsh breath. "But lately I've been stuck with this feeling that I've wasted all my time planning my life instead of actually living it."

I don't hesitate in my reply. "Then stop."

"You make it sound easy." Aubrey croaks out a laugh as she folds her legs in a crisscross position, and uses both hands to wipe at the stream off tears flowing down her cheeks.

I shrug. "It doesn't hurt to try."

Aubrey freezes before her sad brown eyes lock with mine once more.

"I love you."

I mockingly roll my eyes. "I love you, too."

My sister clasps my hand and gives it a squeeze. "I really am sorry."

I return the squeeze, and for the first time in weeks it feels like I can finally breathe. "Thank you."

We sit there for a few seconds before Aubrey finally pulls her hand away to wipe at her nose again, and my heart finally let's go of any leftover bitterness.

"Ooh!" I gasp. "Let's find dad's goatee phase." I quickly snatch the album up off the floor and begin hastily flipping through it.

"Wait." Aubrey grips my arm again. "I have a better idea."

And that's how my parents find my sister and I sitting on the bathroom floor at two o'clock in the morning, sporting our grandma's red lipstick, fairy wings, and laughing our asses off.