‘I think I’m going to need a bigger dress.’ My mom is struggling to zip up my dress. ‘Why would Ashley even want me to wear this? All the bridesmaids get breathable dresses, why can’t I have one too? I don’t need a different dress to distinctify that I’m the maid of honour.’
She pulls at the zipper and finally it dislodges and zips to the top. I’m standing on the pedestal looking at myself in the mirror. The dress really is a pretty, pale pink. I pull the sides trying to fix it and make it fall right. The dress starts to look white. Like a wedding dress. Mom has her hand on my shoulder.
‘You look beautiful baby.’
‘Thanks momma.’ I whisper and reach to put my hand on hers on my shoulder and hit bare skin.
‘You alright babe?’ Mom is fiddling with another dress and talking to the employee. I’m looking in the mirror now heartbroken. The dress is still pink and my baby sister is still getting married before me.
‘Hey are you okay? You’re talking to yourself again.’ She is messing with the same dress still with the employee stuck to her hip.
I smooth the dress over down my hips, ‘Yeah,’ I pause and examine the dress again thinking what if over and over again, ‘I’m fine.’ I am okay but what if I had done something different, maybe I’d be getting married.
‘Okay well take that dress off and we’ll go get some lunch.’ She walks over, fiddles with the hem, than pats me on the back pushing me towards the dressing room.
The employee walks behind me toward the dressing room I open the door to my room and see three wedding dresses hanging. I let my hands drop to my sides and just stand there looking at the dresses. I am 24 years old and I got so close to marriage and now here I am standing in a dress, that looks like one I’d wear to prom, just days before my kid sister, barely 20, gets married, and all I can think is what if.
‘Excuse me miss, but would you like me to unzip your dress?’ I turn around and swat at my cheeks. I hadn’t realized she’d followed me, and I hadn’t realized I was crying either.
‘Oh my gosh, are you okay?’ She steps  loser and looks up and down the dress trying to pinpoint the cause of my apparent pain.
‘Is the dress, is it hurting you?’ Obviously confused by not finding anything she steps back.
Her name is skylar and she looks a couple years younger than me and a couple years older than Ashley. She has really bright blonde hair that falls right above her shoulders. I can’t help but admire how pulled together she looks.
‘You’re crying, oh my, are you okay?’ She steps closer wanting to hug me but clearly unsure if that would be wrong. So instead she tried flattening the dress, trying to do something soothing. She was panicking just as much as I was.
‘The dress,’ she stuttered, ‘the dress looks great! Really, you’re stunning.’
My knees gave out and I slid slowly down the wall pulling my knees into my chest and sobbing into my arms. She stood stunned a couple seconds before falling to her knees in front of me. She looked at me, down at her hands, and back at me. I wonder momentarily if she lives her whole life like this? Anxious about her every next move. She looks down at her hands one more time before putting them on my face and wiping my tears away, and drying her hands on her sweater.
‘I was supposed to be the one getting married. We talked about it. We planned it. It was supposed to be me!’ Now I was looking right at her. I felt a sudden wave of incomprehensible intimacy. She wanted to say something, I could see it in her eyes, but what do you say to a girl who is sitting in a beautiful dress on the dressing room floor heartbroken because she wants to be a bride not a bridesmaid.
‘Three and a half years we dated. We looked at houses, we graduated college together, we looked at rings, and then he broke up with me. Why? Because he can’t stand the way I blink too much when I’m nervous. He hates that I cross my arms over my chest. Because I was too laid back and indecisive. Because I am ‘Just not what he wants anymore.’’ I throw my head back into my knees. She starts to mutter something but I don’t really want to hear the sympathy. ‘And the worst part is, I can’t tell my family because Ashley is getting married, and this time cannot be about me.’
She dropped her hands into her lap and just looked at me with pleading eyes. Please be happy. I know you’re sad, but try. I want to help but don’t know how, they said. I smeared the tears across my face and stared blankly at my hands, daring not to dry them on my dress.
‘I know this may seem insensitive, but can I ask what he was like? I don’t mean to reopen the wound, although it’s really already ripped right in half,’ she trails off a little looking at nothing in particular, just sitting still, ‘all I mean to say is that I like to profile people and assess. Not that you need or want my help, but sometimes talking helps. Especially when they don’t know you and are unbiased.’ I was slowing my  breathing trying not to gasp so much.
‘He was, he was right out of the movies. He brought me flowers, we danced in the rain, he walked me to the door and kissed me goodnight. He was gentle, he could always calm me down. He did this thing,’ I laugh a little under my breath, ‘he did this thing where he would always make bets he knew he would lose so I would have to kiss him. I was so naive, so oblivious, so in love I didn't even realize he was doing it on purpose. I thought I was just really lucky,’ we both were laughing. She was laughing because it seemed so insignificant, and I was laughing because if I didn’t I don’t know how I would’ve finished the story. ‘And I was, I was very lucky. Lucky to be so loved.’ I bite my lower lip and try and give a half smile, ‘Turns out it was mostly a lie, but at least for a little while, it was a beautiful one.’
She sighs and I don’t know if she means to do it so loudly or not. She is deep in thought and I’m caught up wondering if she knows how blatantly she wears her emotions.
‘I don’t mean to sound crass, and I don’t know everything, and you haven’t even told me his faults yet, but he sounds pretty average. Pretty insignificant.’ And she was right, he was just a boy.
‘Oh my gosh you look horrible, what happened?’ Skylar was right back on her feet adjusting and trying to look presentable. ‘What happened? Is she hurt? Is the dress suck?’ Here’s the thing about my mom, she’s dramatic but not very helpful. She stands in the doorway fussing but doesn't take a step closer to help, and I mean don’t get me wrong, she’s genuine and wants to help she just doesn’t know how.
‘Oh, no, she uh, she’s, um well no, she’s,’ Skylar stutters and looks over at me. I’m no longer crying but my face is red and blotchy. I just nod at her and start to pull myself off the ground. ‘She’s fine.’ She does a quick nod and looks at me begging me to finish her though so she wasn’t crushed by the silence.
‘I’m fine mom, we were just talking and my allergies are just acting up. My eyes have been watering all day and I just rubbed them raw is all.’
When I was in highschool I used to pride myself and tell everyone that my parents believed everything that came out of my mouth, and for a while, I believed it too. Looking at mom now though I know how callow I was.
‘Okay, well get out of that thing, you don’t wanna ruin it before the wedding.’
‘Okay, bye momma.’ I shot her the look of please leave now and skylar said, ‘I’ll unzip you.],’ Giving herself a reason to stay.
Skylar unzipped my dress and I pulled my jeans back on and slipped into my sandals. She was just watching me sit there in the chair in the little corner of the dressing room.
‘I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, but I was hoping I could give you my number and we could go to lunch maybe?’ I didn’t say anything I just handed her my phone, shut put her number in, and handed it back to me. Than I stood up, draped my dress over her arm and walked out.
‘Thank you.’ That was all I could say.