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Between shoving all of my worldly belongings into boxes and returning vendors’ phone calls, the next few weeks went by in a blur. I finally heard back from Emma, sounding almost breathlessly excited, telling me she had the perfect dress. She refused to text me a photo, insisting that I see it in person first. So I came by as quickly as I could, in the car that still didn’t feel quite like mine, feeling intensely awkward as I parked it in front of the boutique. It was hardly nice enough to be conspicuous, but it was so far from anything I’d ever driven that I couldn’t get used to it.
Emma looked like she was about to go nuclear from happiness.
“Come on, come on!” She put her arm around my shoulders and herded me into the dressing rooms as soon as I stepped through the door. “I’ve got it hiding back here, I didn’t want anyone else asking about it. And God forbid Daniel should drop in and see it.”
“I’m not superstitious,” I said.
“Oh, honey.” She shook her head at me. “Everyone is superstitious when it comes to weddings. You might as well get on board.”
I rolled my eyes, but she was too elated to notice. “Look at it!”
The dress was hanging up in front of me. It was sleek and elegant, without all the taffeta and usual trappings of a typical wedding dress. Yet, at the same time, I felt I would be recognizable as a bride when I put it on. It was a lovely cream color, with deep red accents, including a sash around the waist.
“I figured something short would be best for a summer wedding,” Emma said. “So? Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, reaching out to feel the material. “I just…none of this feels real to me yet, you know?”
“I know,” she said. “Come on. I can’t wait to see it on you.”
She helped me into it, having me step into a pair of complementing shoes after she zipped me up. I stared at myself.
This was what I’d be married in.
Emma gasped. She looked more emotional about this than I felt.
“It’s really nice,” I said, lamely. “Thanks, Emma. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Doesn’t even need a single alteration,” she murmured, walking around in me in circles and touching and tugging at various parts of the dress. “Even I didn’t think it would be this perfect.”
“And you’re so humble, too.” I smoothed the dress over my hips one more time, as if it would somehow cement the idea that this was really happening.
“Shut up. You love it.” She turned towards the door. “Don’t move, I’m going to find you some accessories.”
She came back with some lovely silver pieces that matched the red accents - were those real rubies? - and before long I was out the door, and on my way to the hairdresser’s to settle on a style for the “big day.” I hated that phrase, but with everyone around me using it at least three times per hour, it was inevitable that it would become a regular part of my vocabulary.
I hadn’t had a hot iron in my hair since prom, and I almost wanted to choke on the smell of all the hairspray. But at the end of it, with all my hair piled on my head and my tiara on top, I actually looked like a bride.
As time went on, it was even starting to feel real.
The weekend before the wedding, Daniel came over to help me pack, as he’d insisted. Mostly everything was in boxes already, and I was going to send over everything I didn’t absolutely need for the next few days. Together we spent the better part of the morning loading up a U-Haul, and every time he hefted a box I felt bad for not just letting him hire a moving service. But he didn’t even show a hint of complaint or frustration with the process, even when I did.
I ordered pizza for lunch. I was becoming a lot less self-conscious about my choice of eating establishments, which was nice. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, and while we sat holding our slices on my empty living room floor, I figured it was as good a time as any to bring up my faltering finances. It was more awkward than I had expected - then again, with me, everything usually was.
I talked circles around it for ages, until he finally prodded me to just spit out what was on my mind.
“I have a few bills…” I started, and he raised his hand to tell me I’d said enough.
“Just give everything to me,” he said. “I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”
“Some of them aren’t…small,” I said. “And when I called to cancel my utilities, they threatened collections if I didn’t take care of everything within 30 days.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s going to be all right.”