How to Ruin a Wedding(20)
I try to swallow, but there’s no moisture in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
He blows out a breath. “I’m sure you are, but that doesn’t mean anything to me. Already she’s talking about going away, taking you on a trip to get your mind off the consequences of your own goddamn actions. It’s happening all over again. You take up all her time, use up my money, and I have to grin and bear it because Taina can’t handle seeing her older sister in trouble.”
He says the word older with a laugh, and it feels like a jab in my stomach.
“I won’t let her go on a trip,” I say, but the words come out fast and jumbled like the syllables are nervously tripping on themselves. “I’m going to get a job. I’m going to move out. I’ll find something to do for now, during the day, the night, whenever you want some alone time. I’ll be invisible.”
“You’d be invisible to me already if not for Taina,” he snaps, his patronizing control finally cracking. “I’m not dealing with this again. I won’t figure out how to fix the rift in my marriage. I’ll give you three months to get out—three months only. If you’re not out, you—” He shakes himself and takes a fortifying breath. “You and Taina can leave.”
I’ve always considered myself a brave person. Not that I’m not easily frightened of things, but because no matter how fearful I am, it never deters me from doing what I need to do. But now a knot of fear in my chest tangles itself into a bond so tight it feels like it’s a permanent addition to the organs that keep my body functioning.
I cannot ruin my sister’s marriage for a plethora of reasons, mainly because I love her more than anything in this world. Another reason is that Taina cannot be alone. She clings to people. Not in an overbearing way—in a quiet, secretive way. Because she’s so wonderful, so giving and charming and funny, people don’t realize when she’s formed a permanent place by their side.
But she only does so when she’s fully in love.
Taina has had many boyfriends, many “almosts” and “could have beens,” but she’d told me she was in love with Mathew the first night she met him. She knew they were perfect for each other. She’s pretty sure our parents made a deal in heaven and sent Mathew to earth to take care of her.
I can’t be the cause of her divorce. I don’t want to even imagine how she’d react. But of course she’d resent me; she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. Right?
It’s one thing to feel not good enough for anyone else, but to know that my own sister might see me that way after ruining something she’s wanted for so long—fear burrows in my chest. That would kill me.
“I’ll be out in three months,” I tell him. “I swear.”
No matter what, I won’t set foot in this house again, even if I have nowhere to go.
He gives me one final look. “I hope so.” Then leaves.
At the sound of the door slamming shut, I press my palms into my eye sockets. I almost laugh. Whenever I think I’ve hit rock bottom, there’s another pitfall to tumble into.
It used to be that, despite accumulating my fair share of misfortunes, I’d always thought I had a weird, pitiful sort of luck. I lost my parents, but Taina was supposed to be in the car with them the day they died—she got sick and stayed home with me—so I got to keep my sister. Whenever I thought I wouldn’t make rent while getting Taina through school, some good Samaritan left me a large enough tip to cover expenses. When I ran out of food stamps, the local shelter would host a food drive where I could pack up two weeks’ worth of groceries.
No matter how bad things got, somehow, barely hanging on, I could pull through.
This time, it looks like my luck has finally dried up. What else am I supposed to do? I’ve already applied to jobs I’m overqualified for and underqualified for, and the money I have saved up was meant to buy my share to save the dog shelter.
Since I got Storm, it’s been my dream. I’ve just had too many responsibilities to really work toward it.
Do I have to give it up?
Should I give it up? I haven’t saved enough yet, anyway. I could use that money to move out and cover rent for a couple of months as I continue to get rejection after rejection, before I get evicted again.
Why can’t I be lucky? Not pitiful lucky, actually lucky, with my own happily ever after?
I bury my face in the cushion and scream.
The muffled noise tears my throat as I release it, trying to let go of this choking bundle of emotions lodged within it. I only stop when I feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket.
I snatch it from my jeans to answer on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Lucinda?”
I sit up so fast that the room spins. “Hello?” I say again, checking the screen, but I don’t have the number saved as a contact. “Who is this?” But my subconscious recognizes the voice now that time has passed and I’m completely sober.
“Ah,” he says into the speaker. “You didn’t save my number. Understandable since we were supposed to be perfect strangers, but I saved yours, sorry.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “It’s Anders.”
“I know,” I say, then slap my forehead. “I mean, hi. Well. Why are you calling me?”
I haven’t thought too much about him because I’ve been preoccupied with my glaring unemployment, eviction, and the brother-in-law who hates me. The last time I saw him was when I ruined the wrong wedding.