“Hi, hi!” I greet back with a pathetically awkward wave. I’ve been a little off-kilter since finding out that my immigration interview is scheduled for the morning of Sophie’s wedding, but I need to shake it off, for Pete’s sake. Trying on dresses is supposed to be fun, and I refuse to be the cloud of doom.
“You remember my daughter, Lexi?” Winnie asks, holding out a sweeping hand to the absolutely gorgeous girl in question.
“Oh, of course, Lexi. It’s so nice to formally meet you. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk with you more at family dinner.”
“That’s all right. Logistically speaking, it’s pretty hard to carry on a conversation when people are shouting at above one hundred decibels anyway.”
When Winnie laughs, I figure it’s safe to unleash my smile. “There were a lot of people yelling, weren’t there?”
“Yeah. They all thought Uncle Flynn would grow old and die alone. So, a wife was a shock.”
I laugh then; I can’t not. Surprisingly, it seems like the perfect time to let in a little tiny nugget of the truth. “To be honest, it was a jolt to me too.”
Winnie and Lexi both laugh at that, and I take the moment to glance around the bridal shop in search of the third member of our party. “Where’s Sophie? Is she not here yet?”
Winnie rolls her eyes good-naturedly and laughs. “Oh no, she’s here. She’s in the back. Every time we come here, no matter the reason, she can’t leave without trying on her dress too.”
“Oh, great! I’d actually love to see it.”
Lexi snorts. “That’s exactly what she said you’d say.”
“Well, she was right,” I confirm. Plus, anything that delays the inevitable of me getting fitted for a dress I’m not even entirely sure I’m going to get the chance to wear is okay in my book.
Does Flynn even realize the interview is the same day as his brother’s wedding?
When we found out about the appointment at lunch this afternoon, he was encouraging, his usual calming force to my emotional nerves, but I don’t know if he put two and two together. I mean, once the interview is done, he’ll be released from his obligation. I’m sure I’ll have to do some things with Immigration on and off as I seek citizenship, but once USCIS declares us legitimate, I’m allowed time in the country to sort my status even if Flynn and I break up. I know, because on a painfully pathetic day while having lunch at my desk to avoid Tara and the rest of the people in the office, I looked it up.
Winnie seems oblivious to my mental wandering, thankfully, as she and Lexi chat about different shoe options for the wedding. Lexi insists that flats are the most practical of all the options, but Winnie contests that then her butt won’t look as good.
Evidently a fan of practicality over fashion, Lexi rolls her eyes.
“Well?” Sophie announces suddenly, popping out from behind the back wall in a gorgeous top-beaded satin gown that pools around her feet beautifully. Not very many people in this world could pull off that dress, but Sophie does it in spades.
“Wow, Sophie. You look stunning.”
“Yeah. I’d say Uncle Jude is statistically likely to get an erection when he sees you.”
“Lexi!” Winnie snaps while I choke on saliva and Sophie dissolves into a fit of laughter. “Oh my God, what in the world?”
Lexi shrugs. “Men average eleven erections a day. With the sex appeal of Sophie’s wedding dress, it’s highly likely one of those will happen when he sees her.”
Winnie puts two fingers to her forehead and sighs. “Remind me to check your internet protections again when we get home.”
“Why? Is an erection not part of a male’s biology?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And sex appeal has a marked cause and effect, proven by the statistics on its frequency in advertisements.”
“Yes.”
Lexi’s eyes widen as if to say, Well…what, then? and Sophie steps in to use Winnie’s obvious speechlessness to her advantage.
“Great. Now that we know I’m beautiful in a way Jude won’t be able to deny,” she starts, stepping down off the platform and forward to place her hands on my shoulders and spin me. “Let’s go get Daisy in her dress so Liza can make whatever adjustments are necessary.”
Winnie nods, and I go with Sophie’s guidance without a fight.
When we round the back wall, Sophie moves from her position behind me to wrap one of her arms in mine, locking out elbows together. “I’m so glad you’re here, Daisy. It’s a little intimidating being an outsider in this group—even though everyone is nice, obviously—and it’s good to have some backup.”
My throat is thick, and my nose stings with choked-back tears as they threaten immediately. I feel like a coward and a shrew, but knowing how important all of this is to the whole of my life as I know it, I keep my mouth shut once again.
All I can do is nod, and Sophie mistakes my almost-tears for exactly what I wish they were—the thankful recognition that this family and its bond are the very things I’ve been looking for my entire life. Togetherness, support, and encouragement from a group of people who’d do anything for you and laugh at any joke you tell. God, I wish with a desperation I can’t describe that it was all real.
“Aw, Dais. Don’t cry now. Tears and chiffon don’t mix.”
She’s right. But neither do lies and a group of people so great they give ol’ Alexander a run for his money—and I’m so deep in the middle of that mixture that I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.
Friday, May 10th
Flynn
As I snag my duffel from my gym locker, Jude lets out a deep sigh behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find him easing himself off the bench that resides in the middle of the locker room, his movements looking more like those of an elderly grandma after a rowdy game of backgammon than a fit, thirty-eight-year-old man who just got done with his daily workout.
“You good?”
“Am I good? Ha!” He grimaces. “No, I’m not good. My legs are Jell-O. I feel like fucking Bambi, dude. Next leg day, I’m not letting you lead the workout.”
A laugh jumps from my lips, and I lift my duffel over my shoulder and shut the locker door. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Jude scoffs. “My body says otherwise.”
“You realize I’m not forcing you to work out with me,” I comment and lift my brow to punctuate that sentiment. Truth be told, I never asked Jude to work out with me. Several years ago, he just started showing up and hasn’t stopped. I will admit, though, the time together is nice. He’s always so chatty everywhere else, but at the gym, he’s too busy gasping for air.
“And what am I supposed to do?” he retorts. “Meet Ty at fucking Planet Fitness and do yoga?”
You might think he’s joking, but Ty actually does attend yoga classes, along with God only knows what else, and it’s all in the name of keeping his revolving door of women spinning and thriving.