Amy was unnaturally bronzed for November. “Did you go to a tanning salon?”
“God no,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “That makes you look so old.”
I never went tanning and could have been a stand-in if they made a new Casper movie, but it still felt like an attempted zing. “Where’d the tan come from then? Spray?”
“Nah, Tyler and I went to Mexico last weekend. Didn’t you see my Insta stories?”
I didn’t tell her that I deliberately never watch her Instagram stories. It isn’t that I am completely uninterested in her life—although I kind of am—it is more that I can’t deal with the Boomerang everything and the excessive stickering, GIFs, and random videos detailing every vapid thing she does. It is like a constant vlog of her everyday life instead of a highlight reel and is exhausting on every level.
“Must have missed it. Why’d you go to Mexico?”
“Mom didn’t tell you?”
My mother was across the store already, stacking bridesmaid dresses across her arm while a saleslady hovered anxiously, offering to put them in a room for us. I tended to stop listening when she talked about Amy because it was all wedding talk now, but I didn’t remember hearing anything about Mexico.
“No.”
“Oh. Jake and Madison wanted us to come see the resort they booked for their wedding.”
Jake had texted me a picture the previous weekend of a tropical pool surrounded by palm trees, with the caption “wedding destination” and a check mark. But I hadn’t realized Amy and Tyler were invited on the trip.
“I didn’t know you guys were that close.”
“Jake figured it would be some good bonding time so I could get to know Madison better and he could get to know Tyler.”
“Did anyone think to invite me?”
“Would you have come? It was kind of a couples thing anyway.”
No, I wouldn’t have gone. I didn’t have the time, money, or inclination to have that much togetherness with my siblings and soon-to-be siblings-in-law. But it still stung to be excluded for the sin of being single.
I shrugged, trying to brush it off. “How was Madison?”
“She’s actually really nice. Kind of shy, but we got massages and manicures and once you get a few drinks in her, she’s fun!”
“So she has more personality than the wallpaper?”
Amy made a face. “You should be nicer. She’s going to be our sister.”
“You were the one who said that about her when Jake brought her home the first time!”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know her then. You should make an effort to get to know her.”
My mother called my name and gestured for Ashlee and me to go into the fitting rooms, which I took as a welcome excuse to exit the conversation. Lectures on social graces from a virtual toddler who still lived at home and was too immature to call and make dress-fitting appointments herself weren’t good for anyone.
Somewhere between the discussion of how anything short would work for everyone except me, because my legs were too long, and low-cut would be fine—oh, but not on Lily—I decided to mentally excuse myself from the conversation. After my experience the previous day, I was willing to put on whatever they wanted as long as I didn’t have to pay attention to what they were saying about it.
And although I would never admit it to either of my siblings, my feelings were hurt that I hadn’t even been considered for the weekend in Mexico. I mean, yes, Jake and Amy had always been closer than I was with either of them. They were only three years apart, whereas I was five and eight years older than them, respectively. They had spent a year in high school together. I had already graduated from college and was working at the foundation by that year. Everyone had always said the age difference would matter less as we got older, but instead of that happening, the two of them seemed to have suddenly bypassed me entirely and now were doing a whole level of adulting that I hadn’t gotten to yet. Serious relationships, engagements, and joint vacations. What just happened?
Eventually, Amy, Ashlee, and my mother agreed on some pink chiffon disaster that I thought made me look like a piece of cotton candy, but it only cost $175, putting me somewhat back on track. For this wedding at least. So I said it was great.
“Come to dinner tonight?” my mother asked as I waited for the saleslady to return with my overburdened credit card. “Your grandmother is coming and we’re getting takeout.”
I agreed, mostly because it saved me a trip to see my grandmother soon. I had been so busy between work and weddings that the only time I had seen her in the last three months was when she came shopping for Amy’s wedding dress.