Bridesmaids

Kayla stood, stretched, and yawned. She strode to her bags and extracted a set of stark white underclothes before stalking my way. With my eyes were locked on her, I awaited any hint of her opinion regarding my appearance, but she didn't even return my gaze. Instead she walked straight into the washroom and turned on the shower.

That's a good thing, I told myself. If you looked like a slut, she'd have noticed. Before the thought was complete, I already knew it to be a lie- she would have had to look to have noticed. I stood, my lowered eyes coming to rest on my classic-black, low-heeled, open-toed pumps. At least I have the right shoes.

Eyes still to the carpet, I walked to the window, opened the curtains a crack, then sat in one of the two token chairs. Watching the traffic whiz past on the packed freeway, the world outside seemed a bigger, scarier place than it had but hours before. Big and scary, I mused, my eyes falling to my over-exposed bosom. How appropriate.

I heard the shower door open behind me, but I decided not to look, even as my companion moved about the room. Several minutes later, I saw motion out of the corner of my eye. Through instinct, my head turned toward the movement.

My mouth fell open. I inhaled a gasp. Kayla stood before me in a shimmering white satin calf-length dress with glitter sparkling along the sweetheart neckline that passed just below her flowing ebony locks. From her ears dangled a pair of dazzling sapphires, smaller versions of the one that hung just between and below her collarbones. About her feet were wrapped a pair of medium-heeled silver sandals. Even her cosmetic-free skin seemed to glow.

How dare she look so good, so fast!

"Up," she demanded, snapping me from my stupor. "Let's have a look at you."

My eyes fell as my body rose in compliance. For a handful of agonizing breaths, I waited for her response, but none came. At last I forced my gaze upward to her face.

"Assez," she whispered the instant our eyes met. "Not what I expected."

My eyebrows leapt upward. "Does that mean you like it?"

"Oh, yes," Kayla hissed, closing the distance between us with two long strides. "It's a good start. Of course, little black dresses are meant for accessories, and with that, girl, you need pearls. Let me see what I have." She turned and walked toward her bags.

Beaming, I followed.

Three minutes later, I stood again before the motel mirror, admiring the black pearl earrings and matching pendant, the latter resting to perfection amid my décolletage. My eyes leapt over my shoulder to Kayla's.

"Lovely," she assured me with a single nod.

With my eyes wide, I spun in place. "Are you sure?"

She flashed a shallow grin. "Beauty like yours should not remain hidden."

The warmth in my cheeks told me at once of my blush. My eyes fell as my embarrassment mounted, wondering if she and I could be seeing the same outfit, and the same person in it.

"Where's the key?"

I looked up. "Key?"

"To the car?"

"Oh," I said, donning my left shoe. "In my purse, by the TV."

Kayla's head turned to find my handbag before she brought her eyes back to me. "Do you mind?"

I tongued my lips once before shaking my head. "No."

Kayla walked to my purse, retrieved the key, then held the handbag my way. "Will you need this tonight?"

There was something in her tone, I'm not sure what, that made me think her sentence was more suggestion than question. "No," I decided. "I guess not."

She nodded and placed the purse back beside the television. "Ready?"

I smiled. "Sure."

Kayla led me from the room, through the motel and across the parking lot where, to surprise, she opened my door for me before walking around to take the driver's seat.

"Looking forward to the wedding?" she asked as she started the engine.

"Yes and no," I replied. "I'm happy for Melissa, but I've been to enough weddings."

"Enough? How many?"

"I couldn't even count them all. Seems like all my friends have gotten married now."

Kayla put the vehicle in reverse and looked over her shoulder. "You're looking forward to at least one more though, right?"

"Yeah. Since I'm here, I figure I may as well enjoy it."

My companion hit the brakes a little hard, jolting the car to a stop, and me with it. "No," she said, reaching again for the transmission shifter. "Not Melissa's wedding. Your wedding."

"Oh," I began with a shake of my head. "I don't even have a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé."

Kayla looked down at my hand, then eased the car into motion. "Not what I asked," she said, casting a glance my way. "Are you looking forward to being married?"

I sighed, turning my gaze through the windshield. "I don't know. I mean, it seems like it should be my dream, but the older I get the less likely it seems there's a man out there for me."

"I know what you mean."

I snapped my head, and eyes, left. "You do?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you're just so, uh, pretty and all, it seems like you could have your pick of guys."

Kayla's head bobbed as she snickered. "Of course I do, but tell me you don't get hit on every time you go clubbing."

"I don't go clubbing."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "It's not me."

"You don't like to dance?"

"I do. It's the whole scene I don't like- the alcohol, and men with one thing on their minds. Bad combination."

Kayla nodded. "You mean you can't tell if they're really nice, or just wanna fuck?"

"Exactly!"

"Well," she began, pausing to check traffic as we entered the freeway on-ramp. "I don't let men spoil my fun. If I wanna dance, I go dance. I just promise myself before I go that I'm not leaving with a man. Simple as that."

I nodded and looked again to the freeway. "Maybe I should do the same."

"I agree. Delia and I are going dancing in New Orleans tomorrow night. You should come with."

"Delia?"

"Another friend from college. You wanna come?"

I shook my head. "Can't. My bus leaves just after noon."

"Hafta be home for work on Monday?"

"Yeah."

"What do you do?"

"Waitress."

"You like it?"

"Not really?"

Kayla turned her beaming face to me. Her eyes roamed my form once before they found my face. "Bet the tips are good?"

I couldn't help but smile in reply. "They'd be fine if I didn't have so many bills."

"Credit cards?"

"Yeah." My eyes fell to my exposed cleavage. "And other stupid things."

"I see."

"What about you?" I asked, anxious to change the subject. "What do you do?"

"Dentist."

"Dentist?"

"Yes. And no Steve Martin jokes."

"Steve Martin?"

"You don't know Steve Martin, the actor?"

"Yes, I know him."

"You know his old movie then, the one with the dentist that rides a motorcycle?"

I shook my head. "No. Don't remember it."

"In that case, nevermind."

I shrugged. "Ok."

"So who do you know besides Melissa?"

"Let me see," I began. "Her family, of course. We've known each other for years… "

To my relief, the conversation turned to old friends and old times for the remainder of our journey.

The rehearsal began like most such occasions, I suppose, those arriving early chitchatting while waiting for everyone else. Unfortunately, the one person to not arrive within ten minutes of the designated time was the minister. Not a soul having a clue what to do, least of all the bride and groom, we continued to talk and wait, rather than rehearse. This continued for a quarter hour before a loud cry cut through murmur in the chapel.

"Maudit!" Everyone's eyes turned to Kayla as she continued, "This can't be so hard. Even if we don't have a preacher, all we need is one person who knows about weddings to tell us how they go and we can rehearse everything but the vows." With that she turned to me. "Sandy's been to at least a dozen weddings. I'm sure she knows how it should go."

My jaw fell. My eyes darted about, confirming everyone else was looking at me. "I don't know..."

"Sure you do," Kayla insisted. She extended her hand toward me palm upward, then beckoned by curling her fingers. "Now come, tell us where we wait and how we enter?"

I felt my eyes moisten beneath their blinking lids as I walked to join her. For an instant, I wondered why I might cry at such a time, but the answer did not come as quickly as the question.

"Well?" Kayla prompted, forcing me from my self-analysis.

Lips pressed against one another, I gave a shallow nod and turned to the remainder of the party. "I think we should wait in that room." I paused to point toward the chamber adjacent to the chapel, my eyes drifting back to Kayla. "You know the one where food might be prepared? I don't know what it's called."

"Doesn't matter what it's called," she said. "We know what room you mean. Go on."

With a smile, I did just that, choreographing the entry and exit from the chapel. This we walked through twice before the minister finally arrived. It was in the midst of this third walkthrough, when my mind had a moment to wander, that the reason for my earlier tears became apparent. No one's ever asked my opinion before, I realized. No one ever cares what I think.

I was still smiling an hour later during the reception dinner when a stray question drove all trace of happiness from my face.

"So, Sandy, are you next?"

I turned to Erin, the bride's sister and maid of honor. "Excuse me?"

"You and Jacob?"

I blinked several times, as if my flapping eyelids could somehow erase what I had heard. A breath later, my eyes fell to the vacant ring finger of my left hand. I looked back to see Melissa touch Erin on the forearm, gaining the attention of her younger sibling.

"Sandy's dumped him," Melissa said before shifting her eyes my way. "She deserves better."

Erin looked back to me, her lips drawn into a line. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

With my lips mimicking hers, I gave a polite nod. "It's ok. I'm over it."

The manner in which the incident lingered upon my mind served to make me wonder if my words were a lie. I was still considering the matter when Kayla and I arrived at our motel. Little did I know I was not alone in my thoughts.

"Tell me about Jacob," she insisted the instant the door was closed.

I turned wide-eyed to my companion. "Who?"

Kayla pursed her lips and shook her head. "You know who."

I swallowed. "Ok. We were engaged, but broke up a year ago last spring."

"That's all?"

"Not much more to tell, really."

"Shouldn't take long to tell then, should it?"

I swallowed again. "I guess not."

"Good," Kayla said. "Start with who broke up with who."

My eyes fell to the floor. My body followed the descent, settling upon the edge of the bed. "He dumped me."

Kayla followed, sitting on the mattress, scooting until our thighs were adjacent. Her hand found mine. "Tell me about it."

I looked up and shook my head. "He said I was too stupid to be his wife."

My companion's eyebrows descended into a low line. Her head leaned to one side. A grin seized her mouth. "Too stupid?"

"Yeah," I admitted with a sigh. "Too stupid."

"Why would he say that?"

"Well, he likes to play games. Chess. Poker. And I don't understand either one."

"He dumped you because you can't tell a straight from a flush?"

My eyes fell to my bosom. "I'm bad with money too."

"What does that mean?"

I shrugged, though I well knew the answer. "He said I was out of control. I always seem to spend more than I have." My eyes crept upward in the silence that followed, until my gaze met hers.

"Is it true?" Kayla asked.

I shrugged, then nodded. "Yeah. He kept telling me it was a problem, but I didn't listen."

She nodded. "Was he mean to you?"

I shook my head. "No. Never even yelled. Maybe if he had I would have heard him."

"But he still proposed?"

"Yeah." I sighed. "I think he did love me. He said he still did, even when he dumped me."

"He should have dumped you sooner."

"What?!" I gasped.

"He's right," Kayla said. "Love isn't always enough. If a partner isn't perfect, you shouldn't try and change them. You should just keep looking."

I swallowed. My eyes welled. "But I still love him." I clamped my eyelids tight, but a tear escaped anyway. For a moment, my psyche focused on the salty drop running down my cheek and the trail of mascara that I knew marked its path. With a sigh, I forced my eyes wide, and back to my companion. "Even if I wasn't perfect for him, he was still perfect for me."

Kayla shook her head. "No. If he was perfect for you, he would have complemented you."

"He did. He always told me I was pretty."

"And you are," she said with a smile, "but that's not the kind of complement I'm talking about."

My head fell to one side. "What kind then?"

"He would have been good at what you're bad at, found some way to work out the little things, and the big ones too." Her hand floated upward, finding my neck just below my ear. "Plus, he would have been rich," she whispered, running her splayed fingers through my tresses. "And given you an allowance you could live with. Wouldn't that be perfect?"

I swallowed, leaning into the pressure of her hand. My eyes tried to follow her fingers as they began a second pass through my hair. "I don't know."

"Why?"

Without moving my head, I steered my eyes upward to hers. "I'd be, like, a whore."

Kayla smiled. Her hand slid to the far side of my face where she applied a gentle pressure. At once, I relented, allowing her to pull my head to her shoulder. "You aren't a whore, Sandy," she whispered. "Close, but not quite."

My eyes flew wide. I inhaled a breath, trying to imagine how to respond, but no words came. Instead I but held the air within my chest, hoping she would explain her meaning. Instead, she continued to run her splayed fingers through my tresses..

I leaned into the firmness of her shoulder and for some minutes we but sat. My view strayed across her bosom. Looking down as I did, I could see the roundness of her breasts behind the ivory fabric of her dress. I found I could do nothing except watch the subtle rise and fall of her flesh with each breath.

Kayla's hand strayed from my hair to my shoulder, pulling me against her. "I know it's not that late," she said, "but we've a busy day tomorrow. We should get some sleep."

I sat upright and nodded my agreement.

Without another word, we both stood. I scurried to the sink, intent on washing the cosmetics from my face, but I found I could not keep my eyes on my own reflection. Behind me, Kayla disrobed, slithering out of her garment like it was a second skin. My eyes followed the edge of the fabric as each new inch of her form was revealed.

Minutes later, I lay on my mattress, my eyes trained on the outline of the woman in the adjacent bed. Mesmerized, I marveled at her perfection- not just her beauty, but also her demeanor, her confidence, how she seemed to know exactly what to say, what to do, at any given moment. For the first time I could recall, I wanted to be someone other than myself, someone like her. I forced my moistening eyes to the grayness of the ceiling, but still I could see nothing but Kayla, even after sleep had claimed me.

* * *

I awoke to the howl of Scooby Doo. Blinking, I gave my head a good shake, and steered my narrowed eyes to the clock- it wasn't quite ten.

"Good morning."

Shifting my focus to the adjacent bed, I saw Kayla lying atop the bed linen, wearing but a grin and a towel.

I returned her smile and tried to keep my eyes on her face. "Morning."

"Feeling better?"

I nodded at once, then considered the question.

"That's good," she said, looking back to the television. "Nothing like a good night's sleep to put things in perspective."

My eyes wandered the room for a handful of seconds. "Has it only been a day?" I asked. "Seems like we've been here a week."

"That's how it is when you're busy."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I guess so." I swung my legs out of bed, stood, and made my way to the washroom. My hands started the shower, adjusted the temperature, and then removed my underclothes from my body. All the time my mind was focused on a single word. Busy.

I'd been busier yesterday than I had been in months. It had felt like I was doing something, accomplishing something, instead of just going though the motions, just existing. The water poured over my body, but it couldn't wash away what tomorrow held- a bus ride back to the nowhere my life had become. I wept a bit, compelling me to remain in the shower until time and water had washed the signs of the tears from my face.

A minor panic seized me as I stepped from the tub and realized I had neglected to bring a change of clothes into the bath. For an instant, I considered donning my undergarments from the prior day. My nose wrinkled at once. I pursed my lips and shook my head. You used to prance about naked in front of Melissa all the time, I recalled. Why should it be different with Kayla?

Wearing a towel and a smile, I emerged from the washroom, expecting my companion to still be in bed watching television. Instead, she sat upon the edge of the mattress, dressed in jeans and a beige tank top.

"You took long enough," she noted.

"I, uh…"

"Doesn't matter," Kayla continued. "I was gonna buy you breakfast, but now it'll have to be lunch. Get dressed."

With the towel to my bosom, I shuffled to my suitcase and pulled out my undergarments and a pair of jeans. I rummaged for a tank top, though I was certain I hadn't brought one with me. When my hand left the bag, it contained another T-shirt. I paused, then swallowed, wondering if Kayla's attention was on me or the television. My eyes blinked while my ears searched the room. Nothing. I couldn't hear cartoons or my companion.

I chewed the inside of my lower lip and took a deep breath. With another swallow, I moved my hand away from the body, allowing the towel to fall. For a second, I stood, still wondering if Kayla's eyes were upon me. A second later, my own eyes widened with the realization that I hoped so.

Trying to behave in the most nonchalant manner, and probably achieving just the opposite, I dressed without so much as a glance her way. After wiggling into my T-shirt, I took a breath, and turned to find Kayla sitting exactly where she had been, her eyes on me, her lips curved upward in a subtle grin. Cutting my eyes to my right, I discovered the TV was off. At once, my lips curved to match hers.

"Nice," Kayla whispered. "Let's go."

* * *

I expected to hit one of the fast food places off the interstate, but Kayla had other ideas, driving all the way back to town, to The Chimes. Being so close to campus, our conversation naturally turned to our college days the instant the waitress had left with our order.

"Ever miss college?" Kayla asked.

"Yes and no," I said. "I miss the atmosphere, my friends, so many other young people- but I can't say I enjoyed being a student."

"What'd you study?"

"Elementary Education."

"You were going to be a teacher?"

I swallowed. One otherwise innocuous word in her question resonated within my psyche. Were. My lips pressed into a line as I cycled a breath. "Yeah," I said. "That was my plan."

"So why'd you quit?"

I shrugged. "I don't know." My eyes fell as a sigh passed through my pressed lips. "Studying is such a drag. And so boring. I guess I hate school."

Kayla giggled through a grin. "A teacher who hates school?"

I smiled back. "Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Maybe it does after all." Her head tilted to one side. "Depends why you wanted to be a teacher."