On the Rocks(59)

“I’m not telling anyone. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Why? You’re not the bride. Don’t you think keeping your dress a secret is a little bizarre?”

“Abby, I’ve been working hard to look my best for this wedding because I’m planning on actually being able to walk down the aisle this time, and I care what people think of me. I want to dazzle everyone!”

“You’re right. How insensitive of me. I’m so sorry that my fiancé broke up with me and denied you the chance to waltz down the aisle.”

“Oh, stop being ridiculous. It’s not about me,” she said. “I do want to ask you, though, how do I look? I haven’t seen you in over a month, and I’ve been getting these resurfacing facials. They’re supposed to take years off your complexion. What do you think? Don’t you see a difference?” She spun around and placed one hand on her hip like she was posing for some geriatric pageant judges. My mother’s obsession with youth was going to bankrupt her. She had had her entire body nipped, tucked, sucked, and pinned so tightly it was a wonder she could move. If she knew where to find one of those hyperbaric sleeping chambers Michael Jackson had, she’d probably put one in the living room.

“You can definitely see a difference, Mom. You always look great,” I replied without even looking at her. I knew it was what she wanted to hear, and because I loved her despite all her flaws, I wanted to give her an honest compliment. I only wished that just once she could bring herself to return the favor.

“Thank you, Abby. That’s nice to hear,” she said as she turned to face the mirror.

“Okay, are you guys ready?” Katie asked, thankfully putting an end to our conversation.

“We’re ready. Come on out, Katie,” I said. Hold it together when you see her, I ordered myself. You’re her older sister, and it’s your job to hold it together. I would not allow myself to ruin this experience for her. I would not allow Ben to turn me into a horrible sister on top of everything else.

She threw the curtains aside, and my mouth dropped at the sight of her. She smoothed the skirt over her midsection and held her arms straight out to the side as she turned so we could see the intricately sewn satin-covered buttons running down the back. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was stunning.

It was mine.

“So what do you guys think? It’s just gorgeous, isn’t it? I can’t wait for Charlie to see me in this!”

My mother eyed her critically. “The dress is beautiful, Katie. I’m just wondering, are you sure you’re tall enough for a train that long?” she asked.

“Yes! It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted,” Katie squealed with the kind of joy only impending brides can feel.

“And you don’t think it makes you look like a giant marshmallow? The skirt is rather full, darling, and the last thing a woman needs is extra fabric around the hips.”

“It’s a wedding dress, Mom. The skirt’s supposed to be full,” Katie replied, gritting her newly bleached teeth.

“Turn around,” my mother ordered as Katie turned to reveal the satin buttons running down the length of the dress. “It’s a lovely dress, but if you want to wear strapless, I think you should start doing some exercises for your back and your shoulders. You know, girls forget that when they’re on the altar everyone will be staring at their back, and you don’t want those little rolls to be spilling over the top,” Mommy Dearest said.

“Do you think it would be possible for you to just say something nice for once in your life without the added criticism? Can’t you just say, ‘The dress is lovely,’ and then shut your mouth?” Katie snapped.

“Why my daughters have to be so mean to me, I just don’t understand. I’m only trying to help.”

“Abby, what do you think? Say something,” Katie said as she turned to me, hoping that I’d be the relative who’d tell her how unequivocally beautiful she looked in her dress.

Unfortunately, today was just not her day.

“Take it off. Take it off right now,” I said, feeling beads of sweat run down my back.

“Huh?” she asked, understandably confused.

“What part of ‘Take it off’ is hard for you to understand? Take it off, now.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with it?” she asked nervously as she turned to make sure there wasn’t some kind of flaw on the train.

“What’s wrong with it is that it’s my dress,” I said, the same way a three-year-old does when another kid takes her pail in the sandbox.

“I don’t get it,” Katie said, shaking her head, still confused.

“That’s my wedding dress,” I informed her.

“Umm, last time I checked you never got married, so you never had a wedding dress,” she snapped.

That was low, I thought. It was accurate, but it was still low.

“That’s the dress I was going to buy. That’s the dress I was wearing when Ben broke up with me. You are not wearing that dress. You can wear any other dress in this entire store, in the entire world, but you cannot wear that one.”

“Oh my God. This is the dress you were going to buy? I never got a chance to see it,” Katie said as she placed her hand over her heart. For a second, I hoped she’d feel some compassion and immediately agree that she should buy something else.