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ALEXIS
After lunch, the day only seems to get more torturous when I find out I’m in charge of designing everything from the engagement announcements to wedding invitations. In hindsight, I guess I should have seen that coming, being the graphic design expert and copywriter in our business thus putting me in charge of branding and marketing. Of course, it only makes sense I would now be tasked with the job of spreading the word of Naomi’s impending nuptials far and wide.
From here, the day becomes a blur of wedding talk and shop talk. Dress ideas and evening wear design concepts overlap while I do my best to tune Vic and Naomi out to focus on my actual job for a few hours.
By the time I’m standing at my own front door, desperate for the safe haven that lies beyond it, I’m so frazzled it takes me several attempts just to get my key in the lock and open it.
Frustrated, I stomp my way inside and slam the door shut behind me, tossing my keys in the bowl on the stand in the hall as I march through. As soon as I clear the hall and land in the living room, I throw my purse across the room, aiming somewhere near the sofa, and start to rant at Dinah.
“You would not believe the day I've had! First thing this morning, I walk into the store, coffees in hand, because that’s the sort of person I am – I bring coffee even to those who clearly don’t deserve it – when Naomi comes running out to greet me, practically poking me in the eye with her giant diamond!” I make a sharp turn at the kitchen and ramble on, “Yes, that's right, Jarren - my Jarren - proposed! To her! And then, as if that weren't torture enough, she asks me to be her bridesmaid, which by the way, is code for ‘help her plan her wedding in less than sixty days’. Because that's really what I want to do, help her walk down the aisle to marry the man of my dreams! Why sixty days you ask? Well, if we’re going with Nia’s theory, it’s because Naomi’s pregnant.” I chose not to get confirmation on that yet. I need to let that one simmer a while before I find out if it’s fact or fiction.
An assertive quack interrupts my thoughts, and my gaze drops down to land on her. “What?” Dinah waddles another two steps in my direction, her white feathers fluffing up at me the way they do when she’s being extra pushy about something. “Oh, yeah, dinner. I know, I'm starving, too.” I head for the fridge, my original destination before I began pacing along with my wandering words. “Let’s see what we've got.”
Contrary to what many people believe, ducks have a very varied palette that goes way beyond the stereotypical offerings of stale bread. Not that most people have to feed a duck as often as I do, probably because most people don’t find themselves rescuing a duckling from the jaws of a loose hound dog while out on their morning jog. But here I am, three years later, and I’ve learned a lot about ducks I never thought I’d have a need to know.
“How do you feel about grapes?” I ask, plucking a green bulb from the bunch, taking a bite, and tossing her the other half. She gobbles it up with great enthusiasm. “Figured.” I grin. Grapes are her favorite.
Meanwhile, I pull out the large tub of no mayo coleslaw I made two days ago for myself.
After I prep Dinah’s dinner, I grab a fork and just get to work on what’s left in the tub. It’s been that kind of day.
Plopping down on the sofa with my giant serving of coleslaw, I fumble for the remote with my free hand, ready for a little mental escape, when my phone rings, dragging me back to reality. It’s Naomi.
“Hello?” I mumble through a mouth full of cabbage and apples.
“Why do you sound funny?” She’s one to ask. It’s crazy loud wherever she is, and I can barely distinguish her voice from everyone else’s.
“I’m eating.” I shove another forkful into my mouth on principle. “Why do you sound funny? I can hardly hear you.”
“I’m having dinner, too. Or I’m about to.” Even over the noise, I can hear her sigh. “Are you at home eating dinner alone with your duck?”
“That’s an impossible question to answer. No, I’m not alone. And yes, I’m eating dinner with Dinah.”
There’s a delicate snort on the other end of the line. “See, this is exactly why I’m calling.”
“To talk about having dinner with a duck?” I’m down to talk about that. I much prefer eating with a duck over most humans. If I have an opportunity to promote the concept, I’m happy to take it.
“No, to talk about your need to have dinner with another person. A male person, more specifically.” She mumbles something to someone else. Jarren, most likely. “Which is why you have a date tomorrow night.”
I almost choke on my slaw. Only once the near death by cabbage is diverted, am I able to express my thoughts on her previous statement. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true, Nae.”
“Oh, but it is,” she insists with her annoying, yet oddly endearing arrogance. “You, me, Jarren and your mystery man – all together. At Mi Cocina’s. At seven thirty.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to be there.”
“Yes, you are,” she counters. “Because we’re going straight from work. There’s no escaping this, Lexi. I will force you to your happiness if I must.”
The irony of this moment is lost on her, but certainly not me.
“I really don’t think I’m comfortable having you choose a date for me,” I say as calmly as I can.
“Why not? I have amazing taste in men. Look at Jarren! I chose him and he’s the best there is!”
Actually, I chose him. But apparently, that’s a little detail no one else gets stuck on. “I really don’t want to go on a double date with you and Jarren and some random dude I probably won’t like.”
“I don’t care,” she chirps. “We’re going. And listen, if you wind up thinking he’s a total dud, we can always just talk wedding and ignore both boys. Deal?”
I mean, that’s almost worse, but, “Okay.”
“Perfect. Alright, gotta run. See you in the a.m.!” She hangs up before I can answer.
It’s just as well. Part of me is already contemplating calling in tomorrow and she probably sensed that.
I drop my fork into my coleslaw, no longer interested in stuffing it on top of the dull discomfort that’s lived in my chest these last two years, and glance at Dinah who’s patiently waddling back and forth the length of the couch.
When she notices me watching her, she stops and stares up at me.
“Bath?”
She quacks loudly. Just once. For yes.
I don’t care who you are or what you say. This duck absolutely understands me.
Listlessly, I drag myself out of the cushions and into a standing position. Then, shuffling my feet pathetically over the hardwood floors, I make my way to the kitchen to drop off the slaw before I keep on shuffling to the bathroom.
The bath does turn things around a bit, and I come out of it feeling a renewed sense of hope. All is not lost. They’re not married yet. And, until I find out for certain that Naomi is pregnant, all bets are off.
The following morning, I decide life really hasn’t changed all that much from the day before. For me anyway. Sure, Nae is getting married, but in my life, I’m still no closer or farther away from my happy ever after than I was yesterday. If anything, the only change I can attest to, is clarity. If I want to find out one way or the other if Jarren and I are true soulmates, intercepted by food poisoning and flaky friendship, now is the time to take action and get answers. Before it’s too late.
And thus, dinner tonight, suddenly sounds like a fabulous opportunity instead of the tediously awkward outing I originally perceived it to be.
Life already looks rosier.
“Good morning fabulous people,” I call out as soon as I step foot into the boutique. Jazz is closest to the door, fixing a display of tops and scarves.
“You’re awfully chipper this morning. Don’t tell me you got engaged now too,” she jokes.
“Not engaged, just super caffeinated,” I tell her, grinning. I’m pretty sure I can feel my cheeks buzzing when I do. While this is round two of coffees for everyone at the shop, I’m on round five myself. And I haven’t been awake that long. Nor have I eaten anything since the coleslaw last night.
“Any reason you’re so extra hyped this morning?” she asks, brow cocked suspiciously.
“Yes,” I affirm. “There’s a wedding in the works, remember?” And I’m super hyped to find a way to steal the groom.
God, that sounds horrible. Is that really where I stand in all of this? I’ll have to ask Nia. My own judgement can’t be trusted right now.
“Coffeeeeeee!” Vic wails dramatically from somewhere in the back of the store. Probably the sewing room beyond the counter.
“Coming!” I call back. I smile at Jazz who steps aside with a dramatic bow, clearing my path.
On my way past the sales counter and desk area, I notice Naomi is also missing from the front of the shop and I can’t help wondering if I’m about to turn the corner into the sewing room to find her draped in white silk and lace and tule and whatever else is currently trending in bridal fashion.
I hold my breath and brace myself for the worst. Then, I’m pleasantly surprised. No. I’m amused.
“What are you two doing?”
There’s certainly an abundance of white stuff, only Nae’s not the one draped in it from head to toe. Vic is.
“Apparently, her majesty, the bride, thinks she can design her own gown because, how did you put it?” he pauses to cast a poignant glare at Naomie, who’s squatting at his feet, comparing two different sets of lace against the satin hanging loosely around his ankles, “she’s watched me do it plenty.”
“Well, I have!” she insists, hardly even looking up from her collection of sample scraps in white. “In some ways, one could argue I attended design school right alongside you.”
“Like, because we all went to the same college and had classes on the same campus...even though we all studied totally different things?” I ask dubiously, slowly closing in on them while I try to figure out how to sneak Vic his coffee without Naomi noticing. Something tells me she won’t approve of him sipping hot brown liquids while draped in white. Not to mention, the paper cup probably doesn’t complete the look she’s going for.
“Not just that,” she argues, abandoning the lace and reaching for some champagne-colored chiffon instead. “We all studied together in our apartment. All brainstormed on each other’s projects. Even assisted by filling in as models for Vic whenever he needed it.”
I roll my eyes sideways. “Nae, by that logic, we all earned triple degrees while we went to school, but I’m pretty sure you don’t know how to so much as open photoshop and I sure as shit don’t know the first thing about doing payroll, so I’m thinking that’s not true. And also, you can’t design your own wedding dress.” I step behind her, quickly handing over the coffee to Vic’s outstretched hand before I spin around the front of her and squat down to meet her eye to eye. “Listen. I just got a flash of what Jarren would experience the first time he sees you walking down the aisle, and I about peed coffee. Trust me. You don’t want to make your own dress.”
Slowly, Naomi moves her hands away from Vic’s feet. “You really almost peed yourself?”
“Absolutely.” I take the chiffon from her hand with my right and hold the tray of coffee toward her with my left. “Here. You really need this.”
She nods. “I think you’re right.”
“I think I am.” I push myself up into a standing position again. “Also, I think I really need a picture of this.” Then, before either of them can move or argue, I’ve got out my phone and I’m tapping away, saving one precious, ridiculous moment after the next.
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DAVI
“TELL ME AGAIN WHY I'M doing this,” I groan as we walk up to the front doors of Mi Cocina’s.
“Because you haven't been on a date in forever and Naomi and I are starting to get worried. You can't just be married to your job forever. Besides, you're my oldest friend, and Nae is really close to Alexis, so it just makes sense. At least that’s what Naomi said, I don’t know exactly. But I do know it would be cool to see you happy and if it’s with a chick Nae already likes, even better for me.” He grabs the handle, preparing to pull the heavy wooden door open when I put my hand on the door to stop him.
“Wait, did you say Alexis?” I shake my head. “And also, I thought you didn’t know who the woman was Naomi was bringing.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t. Until after I talked to you. I guess she needed to get Alexis to say yes before she wanted to say it was her.”
I could take offense to the possibility of Alexis declining an evening out with me, but I won’t. I have more important things to cover. “Alexis. As in her business partner at Three Queens Boutique, Alexis.”
Jarren seems confused by my need for clarity. “Yeah, why?”
“Because I’ve met her a million times. Don’t you think if I’d have wanted to ask her out, I would have by now?”
He starts to laugh but catches himself. “Come on, dude. Making a move isn’t exactly your strong suit.” Then he pats my shoulder and starts to move for the door again. “Let’s just go inside and see what happens. Trust me. You two probably have more in common than you realize.”
But I stop him again before he can pull back on the handle. “I highly doubt that.” I sigh, taking a step backwards. “Look, this isn’t what I agreed to. I thought this was going to be more like a blind date than a setup. And the blind date was bad enough, but a setup? That’s definitely not my thing.”
Jarren exhales, flaring his nostrils. He’s getting pissed with me but doesn’t want to express it any other way while we’re in public. He’s probably counting to ten inside his head as we speak. “What is the big difference, man? It’s a date. With a woman. One you’ve never been on a date with.”
“The difference,” I hiss, lowering my voice as another couple approaches the door to go inside, “is that I already know Alexis and because I already know her, I also already know that I'm not interested.”
This seems to leave him legitimately stumped. Like he hasn’t been listening to anything I’ve said this entire time. Which, let’s be real, is pretty standard conversation 101 with Jarren.
“Really?” He scratches his jaw, like he’s thinking really hard about something. “I thought you were kind of into her that night at the bar when we all met.”
It takes everything I have to actually answer. And to do so calmly. “No... that was you. You were into Alexis.” I leave out the part where I was interested in Naomi. Seems a sort of obvious deduction anyway. To most people. Not to Jarren.
“Oh.” His shoulders bounce carelessly, frustration clearly lifted. “Well, none of that matters now. You already agreed to this, and Naomi arranged it all, plus, we’re literally already here. So, think you can man up and walk inside before we’re officially late?”
I glare at him a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge my lack of appreciation for his usage of man up, and then I surrender to the inevitable. “Fine. Let's go and get this over with.”
“See, that’s exactly the attitude we’re trying to fix here tonight.” He opens the door and gestures for me to walk inside, while he chuckles. “It’s really no wonder you can’t get a date on your own, you know.”
For a moment, I think I might be able to let that one slide. Turns out, I’m wrong when I hear the words ‘fuck off, man’ escape on my next breath.