Page 32 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)
Josie
My legs churn as Norah carries forward at a jog ahead of me, my mind racing with a million and one thoughts about parallel universes and the possibility that I’m a part of one.
The life I almost had versus the one I’m living now, and if today would look the same either way, hangs in every corner of the town square decorations while memories of Clay and me dance front and center in my mind.
When Norah woke me up this morning, demanding my help with final touches on the big—but fake—wedding she’s planned for Summer to witness as a part of her wish-granting mission , an overwhelming feeling of coincidence and coordination entered my mind and took root.
During Bennett’s first year here, I fell in love with Summer in a way that still haunts me despite the rift between us.
During Norah’s first months here, Bennett and Summer fell in love with her, bringing them sweeping back into my life at a time that will no doubt trouble me forever.
It feels like kismet, even if it’s torture.
Over the past several days, as Summer’s body has grown weaker and the doctor’s prognosis has her time here on earth calculated in weeks and days instead of months and years, Norah is doing everything in her power to make the special little girl’s final days the best days.
And this wedding, fake or not, is something Summer told Norah that she really wanted to see. Norah set out to make it happen.
But Norah’s always been like that. The type of person who never meets a stranger.
The type of person whose heart is pure, and her intentions are always good.
She’s so much like our father it’s not even funny, and sometimes I wish she would’ve been old enough when he was alive to really remember him.
Clearly, I said yes to helping make the day special for Summer without question, and in large part, my entire role so far today has been chasing Norah around at full speed.
“Okay, what else do we need to get done?” I ask as we step inside the tent that’s been erected near the town square.
For the past few hours, Norah has been running around like a madwoman, working to get all of the chairs set up and the floral arrangements in place, and I’ve been doing my best to keep up with her.
Honestly, a pair of roller skates would’ve been useful today.
“All we need to do now is get ready,” Norah says in a rush, pulling a dress out of her duffel bag and tossing it at me so hard it whips me in the face.
“Dang, Nore.” I snort. “How about you take a breath? It’s all going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she squeaks out as she pulls another dress out of her bag and hangs it across a metal folding chair near a mirror that has a sticker that reads Earl’s Grocery Store on it.
Somehow, in a matter of days, my sister has managed to get help from the whole town in making one of Summer’s last wishes come true.
I stare across the tent at my sister as she hurriedly changes out of her jeans and T-shirt and into the bubble-gum-pink dress.
When she flashes me a “get your ass moving” look, I huff out a sigh and unfold the dress she threw at me from my arms. It’s a white silk A-line number with bright pink flowers embroidered in the delicate material.
“Where did you manage to get this?” I shrug off my tank top and slide down my jean shorts. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I found it in one of the many boxes and bags of clothes I haven’t really had a chance to unpack.”
“Oh, you mean, the bags and boxes that are still cluttering my entire house?” I question, sarcasm in my voice, and for a brief moment, Norah looks sheepish.
“Maybe?”
I roll my eyes on a laugh as I finish sliding the dress on, and when Norah shoves a bag of makeup and a hairbrush into my chest, I get to work on making myself look presentable.
I don’t have any drive to pander to the male gaze—though, Clay always notices me—but with a dress this beautiful, I’d like my face to live up to it.
“Okay, so what else do you need my help with before I go find my seat in the audience?” I question as I apply a final coat of mascara to my lashes. I peek out of the tent quickly to see that the other guests are taking their seats. “Everything looks beautiful, Norah.”
When I turn around to face her, an expectant smile on my face, the lipstick and blush are pointedly out of her hands. Her lips are sucked in on themselves, and she looks frighteningly guilty.
“What’s going on?” I ask straightaway. “I don’t like that look.”
“Well…you’re not going to be sitting in the audience.”
“Huh?” When she doesn’t offer an explanation, I add, “Where am I supposed to sit?”
“I need you somewhere else.” She pauses and puts a little hairspray in her curls, fluffing them up with both hands. “A very important role in making this as special for Summer as possible.”
I don’t miss the way she’s using the sweet, sick girl against me. She’s cunning when she needs to be, just like she was with the memory of Grandma Rose when she needed a place to live.
“Bridesmaid?”
She shakes her head and digs her top teeth into her bottom lip.
I scrunch up my nose, my face a mask of annoyed confusion. “Pretty sure I’m too old to be a flower girl, Nore.”
“Oh, I know,” she says through a stilted laugh as she shoves her makeup into the bag and walks to the other side of the tent where a bunch of bouquets of pink flowers sit.
“But you’re not too old to be the bride.
” She quickly spins on her heel, and she fidgets with one of the bouquets.
“Pretty much the perfect age, if you ask me.”
“I’m the bride ?” I shout loud enough for everyone outside the tent to probably hear. “Norah! Are you freaking kidding me?”
“I’m sorry,” she says in a rush as she turns to face me again with her mouth set in a frown.
“But I didn’t know who else to ask. I mean, a wedding needs a bride and groom, and I briefly considered having Bennett and me pretend to be the ones getting married, but that felt instantly wrong, you know?
Like it would be pushing the moral envelope a little too far. ”
I can’t disagree with her there. The implications of a dying girl’s father getting married to a woman he just met isn’t something that falls in the gray.
That’s something that falls in the hell-no-don’t-ever-do-that red zone.
“Okay, it can’t be you. Hypothetically, I get it… but if I’m the bride, who’s the groom?”
“Actually, Bennett was in charge of that. We kind of tag-teamed the bride and groom task.”
“And who did Bennett pick?” I ask carefully, my hackles rising with a sense of dread. I already know what she’s going to say, and still, the nostalgic pit in my churning stomach doesn’t want to believe it.
Norah mumbles something, but her back is to me again, so I press harder. “ Who , Norah?”
“Um…Clay Harris.” Her voice is a whisper, but I hear the expected words loud and clear. Clay is Bennett’s best friend. He’s single, so there’s no girlfriend or wife to get needlessly jealous, and Summer is attached to him, so it’ll make the whole thing all the more special.
It makes sense. And yet, it’s the cruelest thing the universe has thrown at me in a long time.
“I must be losing it. Because I could’ve sworn you just said Clay Harris, and I know there’s no way my sister would put me in that situation,” I answer on an incredulous laugh.
She doesn’t know the whole story—she doesn’t even know half of it—but she does know we’re divorced, and she’s a smart enough girl to figure there’s a reason. “Who is my fake groom?”
Slowly, so slowly it feels like a mode on a camera, she turns tenuously and meets my eyes. Apology and guilt and even a little bit of shame reside in the depths of her baby blues, and my jaw makes a bid for my knees.
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. We both know what’s happening with crystal-clear clarity.
“Norah, I mean this with the most love I can muster…but what in the fuck were you thinking?” I blurt out on a shout, and my hands shake with anger.
One glance in the mirror and I see a mess of red splotches have found a place on my chest. I look down at the dress that she convinced me to put on—it’s white , of course—and then back over at her.
My gaze is so intense, my eyeballs might as well be shooting laser beams at her head.
“I was thinking that there’s a sad, scared, sick little girl who wants with all of her heart to see a wedding take place today, even if it’s fake, and I hardly know anyone here, so I figured you could play the bride.”
She figured I could play the bride, and with Bennett’s help, they’ve managed to drag me into a situation I thought would only happen in my nightmares. Or if I ended up in hell.
Marrying Clay Harris? Again? Fake or not, it feels like the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever been forced to be a part of.
“Oh. I see. You just thought I could play the bride. To Clay ’s groom. Are you insane?”
My sister winces. “Well, technically, Bennett and I did not confer on our choices for bride and groom, but now that it’s happening, I suppose it makes sense, given their friendship and all.”
I can’t believe this is happening right now!
“I already married that man once, and it didn’t end well,” I snap, still glaring at my now-shamefaced sister. “I’d have to be ’round the actual bend to do it again!”
“It’s not real, Jose,” she tries to reassure me. “Breezy found some fake officiant on the internet. It’s not like you’re actually marrying him. This is no more serious than a young girl playing dress-up in her closet.”
Playing dress-up? Is she for real? Playing dress-up is supposed to be fun.
A good time. This is the equivalent of getting a root canal and major abdominal surgery at the same time without anesthesia.
Though, I think in order for that to really equal how messed up this is, there’d need to be an actual train wreck occurring while we’re saying our fake vows.