“We had a – um… fight.” Massive understatement. “I had to go. I’m just… I’m…” I bawl some more.
“Devastated?” Amelia asks, pulling me into a tight hug.
I nod. She rocks me while she rubs my back with her palm.
“Oh, no, baby sis. Cry it out. I’m here.”
“Hey Ivy?” Rick pipes up. “Ben wasn’t happy you moved on. He wants you back. Said he wants to take his relationship with you more seriously. Want me to call him?” Rick asks.
“Go away,” Amelia snaps. “Have you got an ounce of sensitivity, you meat head? Go to the gym. Leave us be.”
“Want me to bring Benny back? He’s meeting me at the club for a sesh.”
“God, you’re dense.” Amelia says.
“Sorry you’re upset, Ivy. If you girls want me to bring back ice cream, just text me,” Rick says.
“Thanks, Rick,” I say, “I appreciate that. But it’s okay.” Ice cream isn’t going to heal me from this.
I hear the door shut..
“He’s such a doofus,” she grumbles.
I look up at her face and shrug. He tried. I guess.
She flinches.
“Your eyes are so… I mean you’re crying, but your eyes…it’s like they’re purple.”
“Oh. I know. It’s weird.”
I thought it was the lighting in Tyson’s bathroom at first, but then saw them in the mirror in his truck and had no idea what to make of them. My eye color has changed. Amelia’s eyes are the blue that I used to have. Her eyes look like mine did a week ago. Only a week ago? Why does it feel like I’ve been gone so much longer?
How has my life so drastically changed in a week?
And how come I feel like I will never, ever be okay?
“I didn’t sleep much last night and I left at like three thirty in the a.m. Can I sleep in your guest room for a little? I didn’t wanna oversleep and miss the fitting, so I just figured I’d come here because you’d wake me.”
“Did he hurt you?” she asks. “What happened to you?”
I examine my bandaged ankle, my bandaged-up knees. My hands are even wrapped. I’m crying and bandaged all over the place. Of course she’s worried about that.
“It’s a long story. I just wanna sleep.”
“Do we call the police? Were you hurt like that?” She pushes my hair out of my face sweetly.
I love my sister. Even if she’s been a bridezilla lately and despite that she’s always been such a type-A personality. Amelia is also fiercely protective over the people she cares about. If she thinks someone hurt you, she won’t care how big and bad they are. She’ll go head-to-head with them.
“No, Amie. Nothing like … um… that.”
She looks at me like she knows I’m lying.
“I just wanna close my eyes. Okay? And sleep on your comfy guest bed. You know it’s more comfy than my own bed at home.”
But not comfier than sleeping on Tyson…
“Go in. I’ll get you something to sleep in. Pretty dress, Ives.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking down at the dirty skirt of my pretty strawberry moon dress. I didn’t realize I hadn’t changed. My lower lip quivers and I trudge off to her guest room.
By the time the flipflops I threw on at home are off my feet, she’s coming in with a pale purple designer track suit and a bottle of Sprite along with a foil packet of makeup wipes in her hand. My sister always keeps a bottle of my favorite fizzy drink in the back of her fridge for when I come over.
I accept it gratefully and take a long pull.
“Do you need anything?” she asks, sitting on the end of the bed and starting to work on the remnants of last night’s eye makeup with one of her wipes.
It’s so my sister to take care of me like this. I’m glad I came here. I feel bad for all the angry thoughts I’ve had about her recently.
I sit and let her wipe my face. She has another wipe in her hand and she then uses that one.
“Can you keep Mom out until I get a few hours?”
“I’ll wake you up as late as possible before we have to go for the fitting. If you need anything, you tell me,” she says.
I nod and cap the bottle. I wait for her to go before I start changing my clothes.
Normally, I would change right in front of my sister. But I have bruises. I don’t want her to see them.
The bruises between my legs are ugly and very telling.
And, looking down I can see there are bloody streaks on my inner thighs.
Shit.
I call out, “Ames? Can I have a pair of panties?”
“Sure, Ives.”
She brings me in a fresh package of white silky panties that say ‘bride’ on the bum in gold script.
“I can’t take these,” I say.
She makes me take them. “I bought three pairs. It’s okay.”