Through All the Dust

I let out my war cry. Grunting and grumbling as I fumbled around at my vanity. When I got frustrated, I got loud. This particular morning was no exception.
Brian appeared frantically in our bedroom doorway, suited up and ready to take on the world. I shut the fuck up once I realized he was standing there, looking dapper as all hell.
“Well look at you,” I grinned.
He was staring at me, “Why are you screaming?”
“Okay, first of all, I wasn’t screaming,” I groaned wildly. “And second of all, what do you mean?”
I gestured down the length of the floor-length gown I was currently sporting. It looked all well and good until you hit the thigh, then it was bulgy and obviously acting as a cape for a cast. It looked awful.
“I look like a fucking blob,” I told him angrily. “And I can’t zip it up and the crutches make me sweaty. I’m a god damn mess, Brian. A god damn mess.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at my expense. He was smiling, eternally adoring me. But his happiness only enraged me further. I flung myself onto the bed with every inch of drama that I’d had pent up.
“Okay, Crazy,” he smirked. “That’s probably enough of that shit.”
“Brian,” I whined. “I look like a plastered potato.”
His face contorted itself, I assume to stifle a really robust laugh, “I don’t even know what that means.”
I forced myself to sit up, pouting like a child in time out. My leg throbbed something fierce.
“Will I ever have a normal leg again?” I griped. “I’m so tired of being itchy all the time.”
He sat beside me, a playful grin on his face, “Is your leg still broken?”
I muttered something of a response.
“Then no,” he laughed. “Stand up, I’ll zip you up.”
“There’s no point,” I groaned, flailing my arms in the air. “Everything looks terrible. I look like a mess.”
He nodded, “Right now you do.”
“Brian!” I seethed.
He shook his head at me, pushing on my back to force me to stand.
It had been bothering me a lot, the way I looked. I’d grown so recklessly tired of not being able to move around unaided. I couldn’t wear jeans or anything that I liked. Everything was overshadowed by the giant plastered thing on my damn leg. I was over it.
I still had another six weeks in the damn thing and I was ready to fling myself off of a building.
But, no. Brian said I wasn’t allowed to. Instead, I had to go to some stupid wedding to celebrate some ridiculous marriage that I didn’t even believe in. Matt had been dating this girl for less than a year and I was supposed to pretend that didn’t concern me? She was hardly my cup of tea and she’d made absolutely no efforts, at all, to be anything more than civil to me. Or to Lauren. Especially to Lauren.
As far as I could tell, she didn’t much care for Lauren at all. It must have really riled her up when Matt insisted she be invited. She was part of the family, after all. Despite her connection to the Avenged world being untimely severed.
Since Brian would be at the head table, in his groomsman duty, Lauren and I were going together. She was my ride—which was killing me on its own merit. I loved to drive. I missed driving.
Brian zipped me up in the back and held my hands to steady my weight as I spun around to face him.
“Stunning,” he smirked at me, a lazy wink for my pleasure.
I shook my head, groaning loudly, “I look like shit.”
“You couldn’t look like shit if you tried,” he reassured me. “I’ve seen you inches from death and you were still fucking breathtaking. So knock it off with that self-loathing shit.”
I pouted at him.
He laughed, standing to take me into his arms. He ran his fingers through my hair, whispering sweet nothings into my ear.
“You need your tie,” I told him, pushing him away lightly. “You were supposed to leave ten minutes ago.”
He rolled his eyes at me.
“Go get it,” I instructed him firmly. “Matt will kill you if you’re late.”
He shrugged, “Not like I’m particularly excited about him marrying Victoria anyway…Maybe I could skip it. Or maybe I can make a point of being late to really express my serious contempt for their relationship.”
“You couldn’t,” I told him. “And you can’t.”
It was his turn to whine, “But she’s mean.”
“She is mean,” I nodded. “But she’s not your fiancée. She’s Matt’s. And obviously he sees something in her…deep, deep down…under all of her talons and scales. There’s probably something in there…Probably.”
Brian’s lips spread into a devious smile, “Now we’re mean.”
I nodded, “Birds of a feather, baby.”
He laughed, stealing a quick kiss before disappearing to find his missing tie. I loved Brian in a suit. It gave me chills, imagining him on our impending wedding day. The next time I’d see him in a suit, it would be then. He cleaned up real nice.
The day was a little overshadowed, though. Knowing that everyone was getting ready for Matt’s big day—but Jimmy. It was silently agreed upon that no one would bring it up…but I was reeling. Brian was reeling. There was no way Matt wasn’t reeling.
And it would be the same for our wedding. Maybe worse.
Definitely worse.
Brian returned, thankfully dismissing my grief. I took the tie in my hands and looped it around his neck. He watched me as I fastened it, adjusting and tightening as needed. I tucked it beneath his jacket and nodded once with approval.
“You look perfect,” I smiled up at him. “Good thing we’ll be sitting apart; I’ll only cramp your style.”
He laughed, “Stop that.”
“You should go,” I frowned. “I’ll see you at the ceremony.”
He sighed, reluctant—as always—to leave me, “Just think…the next wedding we attend will be ours. Crazy.”
“It’s not crazy,” I grinned.
He took my face into his hands, his eyes gleaming with adoration as he pressed his lips to mine. I could have died right there.
“I love you,” he said quietly as he pulled away.
I nodded, “Me too.”
He gave my ass a nice little slap before taking off for the wedding we didn’t want to attend. I spent the next hour trying to make myself look mildly put together. But, every time I’d finish my makeup, I’d try to walk to get something and immediately work myself up to tears.
Lauren surprised me with her beauty—and her arrival.
“I…” I laughed awkwardly, wiping at my tears. “Am crazy embarrassed right now.”
She giggled, “What’s up?”
“Just feeling all gross, you know, the usual,” I smirked.
She shook her head at me, “You want to talk gross? Look at this giant belly of mine! I look like a beached whale, for heaven’s sake!”
“No way,” I grinned. “You look beautiful. That’s a little Jimmy in there.”
Lauren sighed, rubbing at her stomach without thinking, as she strolled over to me and immediately began wiping away my smudged eyeliner.
“I’ll fix your face,” she smiled down at me. “Not that it needs much work.”
“You’re going to give birth soon, huh?” I laughed, closing my eyes so my friend could reapply the shadow.
“Guess so.”
I peeked with one eye, “That doesn’t sound like excitement.”
“It isn’t,” she shrugged. “I mean…I’m excited, I guess. But I’m mostly just terrified.”
“Of pushing a watermelon out of your vagina?”
She cackled, “Oh my god, Blair. No.”
“I’d be terrified of pushing a fruit out of my vagina,” I shrugged. “Unless it was like…a pear. Though, pears have stems…Stems can do a whole lot of scratching.”
“Stop!” she groaned. “If you love me at all, you will stop talking right now.”
I fell into silence, closing my eye once more. She moved the pigment across my lid, eventually instructing me to look at her. She nodded happily at her work before moving onto the reapplication of jet black eyeliner. My signature move.
“So why are you terrified?” I asked casually. “Spill.”
She pulled her lips to one side, reluctant to be honest with me.
“Lauren,” I warned.
“What if he comes out looking just like Jim?” she asked me sadly. “I don’t know if I could handle that…Or worse! What if he comes out looking nothing like Jimmy? I can’t decide which would be more heart wrenching.”
“It’s going to be difficult either way,” I told her seriously. “But you’re a tough ass bitch and you’re going to be just fine.”
“Whatever,” she waved. “I can’t get into this right now or we’ll have to fix my makeup, too.”
“I love you,” I frowned at her. “And that baby in there.”
She smiled, “I know you do. You’re done. All glammed up.”
I turned to look at myself in the mirror and instantly felt like crying again. Lauren had done some good reconstructive work, but I couldn’t shake that feeling like I was a witch with a wart on her nose. I’d have to leave it…maybe I’d grow into my confidence again one day.
“We should take a picture,” Lauren told me happily.
“To commemorate a day we’re reluctant to live through?” I teased.
She nodded enthusiastically, “Is it wrong that I hope she trips?”
“Not at all,” I grinned. “That would warrant a picture.”
Lauren pulled me by my face and immediately snapped a series of pictures with her camera.
“Isn’t it nice?” she asked fondly, scrolling through her new photos.
I furrowed my brows at her.
“I just love our friendship,” she told me. “It’s funny to think that you didn’t like me.”
I gasped, “When did I ever not like you?”
It was true. I remember giving Jimmy such shit about bringing around a school teacher. I’d hated how friendly Lauren was; but at the time I’d assumed it was an act. I couldn’t fathom anyone being that genuinely wonderful. But she was.
“For a very long time,” she said knowingly. “Because you’re a shut in, Blair Peterson.”
I grimaced at her, “Am not.”
“You sure are,” she continued. “You don’t take in new people at all. I had to work really hard at you.”
“You also hated my boyfriend,” I noted. “That made it a little difficult to welcome you in, Lo.”
“Whatever,” she giggled. “It’s all smooth sailing now…and given what’s happened, I’m just feeling really blessed these days.”
“Stop,” I warned her, already dabbing at my eyes. “I’m all vulnerable today. Don’t play me like that.”
“I know, I know,” she rushed, dabbing at her own eyes. “We should get going. Get your walking sticks.”
I pouted at her.
She only laughed, “You know what I mean…”
And we were off. Off to witness a matrimony that neither of us could get behind. Off to watch our dear friend get hitched to some wench he found on the corner. We were off to pretend to be better versions of ourselves—masking our disdain with formalwear and up-dos.
But all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and eat a gallon of ice cream. Weight watching be damned!
As I watched Lauren casually stroll down my stairs, looking elegant as fuck, I felt a tinge of sadness pinching at my chest. I’d gotten the call only the night before; everything was firmed and concrete. I’d be leaving for my tour September 3—only two weeks after the wedding. That meant that my time with Lauren, and with that beautiful baby she was carrying, would be severely limited. I’d be gone until January, which I tried to tell myself wouldn’t be too unbearable of a schedule.
But it meant that I couldn’t see her smiling face for a while. And the baby meant that I couldn’t convince her to jet off with me.
So, I took a mental picture; memorizing her just as she was. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her—and so I put it off.
“Come on, Hobbles,” she giggled at me from the bottom of the stairs.
But god, was I ever going to miss her.

Notes

xx