Eight

Eight

73 days until the wedding

Some days you wake up, look at yourself in the mirror, and wonder what you're going to eat for breakfast. Although this could make, or break your day it most certainly won't make, or break your life because after you eat breakfast, you're mind immediately wanders to what you're going to do next. One choice after another until it's already a brand-new day.

Then there are days. Those rare, random days, when you wake up, look at yourself in the mirror, and wonder how the hell you got here.

I was twelve years old sitting on the same couch I sit on as a twenty-two-year-old, only watching an older version of the T.V. One of my favorite Disney channel shows would be playing on the screen, and I would be yearning for the seemingly cool teenage lives the characters had. I would be sprawled out in my sock monkey pajamas, sometimes even with my sock monkey lying next to me, and hear giggling behind the actor's voices on the screen.

Only when the laughter finally came bursting through my living room did I finally peak my head up over the couch, and catch a quick glimpse of Aubrey and her two best friends scrambling up to her room with shopping bags on their arms. As I slumped back down onto the couch I only wished they invited me along. Then my gaze would land on my pajamas, and I'd return my attention back to the people on the television screen who seemed to have way more exciting lives than little old me.

Now I'm standing here with a vanilla bean Frappuccino in my hand as my sister and her two best friends continue to browse through yet another sales rack. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed browsing through the first few stores we stopped at. However, finding nothing really catching my eyes, I gave up on the seemingly endless, and almost mindless, task as the number of stores we've been to has now reached the double digits.

I'll admit, the reality of this situation is a little disappointing, but I guess so is growing up. The things you thought would be are muddled by the truth of what is, and as hard as you try to hold on to the seemingly perfect allusion, the more you realize reality isn't.

"Avery, this would look so cute on you," one of Aubrey's friends, Sasha, holds a peplum tank top up to me and I step forward to inspect it further.

"That is really cute." I admit, and Sasha drops the hanger into my hands. I hold it up in front of me, considering it, before grabbing the tag. "Not for that price." I force my disappointment into a scoff, and Sasha glances back over at me. After I show her the specific number that outweighs the top's aesthetic she immediately takes it back from me and flings it haphazardly over the rack.

"Stupid people leaving their non-sale items on the sales rack." Sasha mimics my scoff before blowing a dark corkscrewed piece of hair out of her face. The action seems futile as all the small curls continue to bounce around her face, but she doesn't let it phase her as she continues to search through the clothes.

Standing here, my twelve-year-old self, although slightly disappointed with the reality of Aubrey's shopping endeavors, is still satisfied. I supposed that makes up for the defaults of growing up. Although we may never achieve our wildest dreams, we can at least try to satisfy our younger selves. They had high expectations for us and the least we can do is try to live up to them.

"All right, I'm done here." Aubrey sighs and her other friend, Brenna, murmurs in agreement as she swallows her own sip of coffee.

After we all give a round of "me toos," we finally begin to head out of one of the larger department stores in the mall. I continue to sip on my frappe as my eyes search around for nothing in particular before Brenna sticks her arm out in front of me, and I end up choking a little on an annoyingly unblended ice chunk. Brenna gestures to the endless amount of beauty product displays and counters before we all turn back around and head in the opposite direction. Our laughter at our indiscreet actions stems from the fact that we just avoided a whole bunch of obnoxious employees.

When they shove perfume samples and lotions for my apparently oily skin in my face, I understand they are not only just doing their job, but also, as people, they are just trying to help. However, I'm the kind of person who financially prefers to buy her beauty products in the same place she buys her clothes—in the sale section.

When we are finally walking at a pace deemed proper in public, my eyes glance around again, flittering between clothing and wailing kids, before I'm stopped again. This time inhaling a chunk of Aubrey's hair as she stops in response to Sasha's gasp. I finally peak my head around to find all their gazes are on the small bridal section located inside the back corner of the store.

"Guys, I don't really feel like it and I mean, we still have time—" Aubrey's protests are ignored as Sasha and Brenna proceed to drag her towards the seemingly massive dresses.

"Just try on one!"

"Just for fun!"

Are both their commands as they glance around to find one worthy enough for their attention. I decide to hang back and just watch, my twelve-year-old self believing this was probably more like their teenage shopping trips. Forcing each other to try things on as they run around trying to find the most random item of clothing.

"If it's just for fun then why don't you guys all try one on with me?" Aubrey attempts to redirect their attention.

"No, silly, you're the one with the ring." Sasha points to her own empty ring finger for emphasis while Brenna continues to walk around a ballgown dressed mannequin.

"Yeah, it wouldn't be right."

Their responses have me smiling, but it only reminds me that this round of "force someone to step out of their comfort zone" isn't random. It isn't try on this goofy hat, or these huge sunglasses, but rather put on this dress that five-year-old you could only dream about wearing, and sixteen-year-old you nearly died laughing at the prospect.

"Avery." The whisper has my eyes locking with Aubrey's as she waves me over. "Doesn't this lace remind you of the lace on mom's wedding dress?" She holds the material up and away from the dress it's attached to on the rack and I nod before she turns to fully address me. "You know I was thinking about turning that part of mom's dress into a veil and then you and I can both wear it and eventually pass it down to our kids, or whatever." Her shrug and haywire gaze soon becomes stiffened as her brown eyes lock with mine once again. "Of course, I'd ask her first and you also have your opinion—"

"No." I immediately cut in. "That sounds like a great idea." I hope my smile says it all and Aubrey's shoulders relax as she smiles back.

A gasp from beside me makes me almost shove my frappe straw up my nose before Aubrey's face is blocked by a mass of curls.

"This is perfect," Sasha gushes as she takes the dress with the specific lace out of Aubrey's hand and off the rack before dragging Aubrey behind her to the dressing room.

I catch Aubrey's wide eyes before Brenna and I are left waiting in front of the mirror beside the dressing rooms with the little round pedestal in front of it. Sasha pokes her head out a few moments later, making a fake trumpet sound, before ushering Aubrey out in front of her and enthusiastically singing 'here comes the bride.'

"I think you drank way too much coffee," Aubrey comments on Sasha's singing with a laugh, and Sasha just throws her a mock glare as she helps push her up the plush step. "Wow." Aubrey's expression becomes serious when she locks eyes with herself in the mirror.

"Wow? More like damn the bride's not coming, she's already here." Sasha snaps her fingers as she steps back while Brenna brings her fingers up to her lips and cat whistles beside me.

"You guys are ridiculous." Aubrey rolls her eyes as she finally turns around to face us.

She threw her hair up in a makeshift ponytail, probably not wanting to be bothered with it when she slipped on the mermaid style gown. Although the shadow lining the fabric on her chest proves that the boob part of the gown is a little too big, it hugs her hips in just the right way that the bottom flares out perfectly. It's simple in its design and classic with its flowery lace, but that's not what has the almost empty Frappuccino cup almost slipping from my fingers. It's the fact that I'm standing here right now.

This is reality.

This is real life unfolding right before my eyes.

I blink and blink, but the only thought that comes to mind is surreal, that this couldn't possibly be real.

And as I force another sip of my frappe and am greeted by another irritating ice chunk I find myself gulping down only one logical conclusion despite the truth I've been willing myself to believe.

I'm not ready.

****

In a last-ditch effort to control the frizz that consumes my fiery curls today, I shield my eyes with one hand and use the other to spray another cyclone of hairspray around my head. I put in my usual palm sized dollop of mousse, I added a little bit of leave in conditioner to the ends, and I just finished my third, and what I've deemed, final round of hairspray, but looking back now it all seems futile.

When I lock eyes with myself in the mirror once more, I force myself to shrug off the frizz because it doesn't define me. My eyes are shining back at me as they have been all morning, determination and excitement fueling the fire behind them. That thought alone brings a wide smile to my face as I spray another round of perfume to my chest and wrists before I give myself an affirmative nod in the mirror.

With my teal purse slung over one arm and nude flats on my feet, I skip down the stairs with my car keys jingling in my hands. The humidity smacks me in the face when I open the front door, and usually I'd curse it for being the culprit of my frizzy hair. Instead, my mind sends a curse to the world for allowing everyone to ignore Avery James when she told them she needed a car.

Once again, at the end of the day, it's my fault. Although I told my parents a week ago that a car would be needed on this uneventful, yet potentially eventful day, and reminded them repeatedly of the fact the days following, I still need to get my ass to a car dealership and buy a car of my own.

The problem is, I not only despise car shopping, but I also despise monthly car payments that, despite my steady bowling alley employment, I'd still most likely scramble to afford. So, sue me for putting off the task. With this wedding, I'm finding I have other things to worry about, and I suppose, so do all my family members with their blatant disregard for my requests.

I finally slam the front door shut, but as soon as I'm staring at the grey colored wood all my determined excitement disappears and panic takes its place, coursing steadily through my veins.

"Mom?" I weakly try out the title in hopes that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but my plea is only answered by silence. "Dad?" I try again even though I know that, just like my mom, he's at work. "Grandma?" The shout is strained as I take a step away from the door. "Aubrey?" It's a last-ditch effort to at least keep some of the dignity I had when I initially woke up this morning, but it's useless. "Anybody?" My yell is directed at the ceiling, but the frustration is short lived when I realize that's it. That's all the people I know who are wired to unconditionally bear with me and my antics. The only few people I know who would be able to help me right this instant.

My eyes catch the time on the cable box resting on the shelf underneath the T.V. and I immediately start pacing, chewing on my already stubby thumbnail. I could call Valerie from work, but we aren't super close and I wouldn't want to inconvenience her whether she is, or isn't free. Ben is probably at work and, just like Aubrey, it'll be awhile before they are on a lunch break.

I run a worried hand through my hair before my mind conjures up a random image of a swimsuit clad Nathaniel Graham. The random image is because that happened to be the last time I saw him. The random time is because desperate times call for desperate measures and at this point I am indeed desperate.

I hastily retrieve my phone from my bag, but my thumb hovers over his contact. I'm desperate, but am I that desperate?

I could call Grandma Josephine, but who knows what she's doing, or if she'll even answer the phone. I could call my mom, but I know that will only end in me bursting into tears because four years in, and I still can't seem to handle adult life.

My eyes land on the clock again and seeing as five minutes have passed, I bite my lip, and finally hit the call button. As the ringing fills my ears everything in me stills at the thought that he may not even answer.

"I'm screwed!" I squeak just as a deep voice finally rumbles a,"hello?"

I clear my throat before the changing numbers on the clock force the words to leave my mouth. "Nate, I need your help."

"Avery?" His voice cracks on the question before he coughs it away. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I mean—no, I mean, I don't know!" My pacing starts again as my brain scrambles to find the words.

"Avery James." Nate's voice is stern, but still holds a hint of concern. "What do you need?"

"A ride," I blurt before running another shaky hand through my hair. "Please, but only if you're free."

When I only receive rustling in response, my teeth find my thumbnail again, and my eyes find the clock. My heart pounds in my ears and it surrounds me, consumes me, until I find whatever determination I had over the situation slipping away, and a sting in the corners of my eyes.

"Avery?" Nate's voice pulls me back before I hear a car door slam. "I'm coming."

Just like that, I feel like I can breathe again. My smile is huge and full of relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I cheer into the phone before hanging up and pulling myself together.

I decide to run back upstairs and reapply deodorant, knowing a panicked me is a sweaty me, before racing back down the stairs. I decide to sit on my door step as my jean covered leg continues to bounce up and down while the humidity sticks to my skin. A glance at the sky shows it's a dull gray, but I don't allow it to phase me. I have thirty more minutes before the sad storm can settle inside me again. Twenty minutes when Nate's jeep finally pulls up.

"Where to?" Nate asks when I slam myself inside and immediately buckle myself up.

After running another hand through my hair and setting my purse on my lap, I send him a pointed look. "Do you have time?" He nods with his left forearm poised on the wheel and I turn my head to face the road ahead of us. "Good, 'cause I don't."