All I had to do was get through this dress nonsense, and the rest of the preparations, and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t fall apart as soon as I saw James at the wedding rehearsal. Maybe.
But Veronica wasn’t making it easy. Tammy and I must have tried on twenty different dresses at her fancy store, and she still hadn’t found one that she liked on both of us.
“She just wants it to be perfect,” Tammy said in the dressing room, as she zipped me into a dark silver Jordan Couture.
I was impressed that Tammy had enough innocence where Veronica was concerned to actually believe that the reason her sister had forced us to try on so many dresses was because she was just a stickler for perfection.
We walked out of the dressing room and posed in front of Veronica. She was sitting in a white overstuffed chair, her legs crossed at the ankle, like a princess on her throne. And the two shop attendants, hovering behind her, made the royal picture complete.
Veronica looked us over. “I like it on you, Tammy,” she decided, then cut her eyes toward my dress, “But not on you.”
At this point, she had already said this about all the other dresses, and I could feel that old familiar rage creeping up on me again. “Okay, I’m never going to look as good as Tammy in any of these dresses. She’s a freaking model.”
I would say a hush fell over the room, but it was already pretty quiet, since the shop was by-appointment-only, and we were the only ones there.
Still, the two attendants exchanged furtive glances over Veronica’s head. They looked scared.
Veronica just folded her hands and told them, “These dresses aren’t working. Do you have another designer for them?”
“Veronica,” I tried again. “There’s no such thing as a dress that will look good on both Tammy and me. If she looks like a swan in something, guaranteed it’s going to make me look like a sausage roll.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong about that,” Veronica answered. She dismissed the attendants with a nod, and they went scurrying out to the store floor to do her bidding.
I shook my head. “Okay, I’m done here. Tammy, could you unzip me?”
Tammy didn’t move. “Just a few more dresses, Davie. We’ll find something, I promise.”
“Tammy,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was resisting the urge to punch Veronica. Again. “You’re really nice, and I dig that about you. But could you please stop pretending that this is about dresses, and just unzip me so I can get out of here?”
I turned my back to her, offering her the dress zipper.
“Tammy, go ahead and unzip her,” Veronica said. Then she asked me, “So what exactly do you think this is about?”
“You don’t want the daughter of the woman your daddy used to keep on the side to be in your wedding. And quite frankly, I agree with you. Nicky has no business making you do this. But we’re not in high school. I’m a grown-ass woman, and I can’t let you torture me anymore.”
Behind me, Tammy finished undoing the long zipper and I was released from the too-tight dress. “Thank you,” I said, holding up the front with my lower arm. I went back to the inner dressing room to put my clothes back on.
When I came out, Tammy and Veronica were in the midst of a quiet argument—which cut off sharply as soon as they saw me.
“Don’t go, Davie,” Tammy pleaded. “I know Veronica can be difficult, but—”
“Stop making excuses for me,” Veronica said, cutting her off. “I’m standing right here.” Her gray eyes landed on me, flickering and flinty. Like a snake.
“Tammy is trying to convince me to apologize to you.”
“Veronica, I don’t need an apology.” At that point, all I wanted or needed was to go home to my editors.
“And I’ve told her that no apology from me would ever be adequate. But it occurs to me that you may be confused about some things.” Her next words sounded monotone, like she was reading from a piece of paper. “What I did to you in high school was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it. I’ve always been jealous of you, because you are better than me.”