Forgetting August(103)

Mourn a life I would never have.

Mourn a man I had lost—not once, but twice.

And then I would move on again and celebrate the new life that had just begun.

Because life was once again full of possibilities. And Brick was right. I was a survivor.

And nothing could take that away from me.

* * *



“If you bring another feather dress in here, I will kill you!” I hollered over the dressing room door.

“Hey, you brought me. That was your first mistake!” Sarah yelled back as the attendant began helping me out of another monstrosity of a dress.

It felt like déjà vu: Sarah handing me horrible dresses in a never-ending store of white.

I could have avoided the entire episode. I had a perfectly good dress in the back of my closet at home, but somehow it felt tainted now.

Ruined.

After reuniting with Ryan, and after months of getting to know each other once again, he’d got down on one knee and proposed once again.

And I’d happily said yes.

This time, we were going to make it down that aisle and when we did, I was going to give my whole heart to the man who’d believed in me…even when I couldn’t. Ryan truly was the best of us. He saw love in an unconditional, never ending way. Somehow he knew by letting me go, I’d eventually find my way back to him.

And now I was determined to find the perfect dress to say my “I do’s” in. But Sarah was making it almost impossible, as usual. Deciding to try several stores rather than just one, Sarah had dragged me all over the city today, finally stopping at a shop I recognized from my drive to work. As I stepped out of the latest disaster of a dress, adding it to the huge pile of discards, I began to feel discouraged. Taking a seat in the corner while the attendant made ready the next dress, something much simpler she’d picked out based on my specifications, not Sarah’s, I awkwardly waited in my white underwear and strapless bra, trying to do my best not to seem awkward at all.

Which was proving difficult…because who isn’t awkward in a bra and underwear?

Underwear models, I guess.

But definitely not normal people. Normal people with flaws and blemishes that showed like neon flashing signs under the bright lights of the three-sided mirror that adorned the large bridal dressing room. I may have been just skinny but I felt like a bean pole sitting there, as my eyes critically picked out each scar I’d managed to pick because I’d never had a parent around to tell me otherwise, every boney rib poking out because I’d always been the last one to receive dinner, and the scared little bird who still sat in her cage on my shoulder because she was too frightened to take the first leap.

I think it’s time for the bird to fly, Everly.

Easy for him to say. He didn’t bother hanging around to see if I made it off that first rickety branch. Or whether I was still peeking out of the cage door, waiting for the right opportunity to take that first step.

He’d once promised he would never hurt me ever again.

Nothing but a bunch of empty, useless words.

“Okay, ready to try another?” the bridal attendant asked cheerfully, clearing the moody cobwebs from my mind.

“Yes,” I answered brightly, bouncing up from my chair as I stepped up to the dress.

No dark thoughts, Everly, I chided myself.

“This is very elegant, but understated. I know you said you were wary about lace, but I saw this and it had the shape you like. I thought you might like it.”

As the fabric fell around me and I got that first look, I had one of those silly moments everyone speaks about. Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to keep my emotions at bay.

“So, this is a yes?” the attendant asked with a sliver of a laugh.

All I could do was nod as I stared at my reflection, waiting for her to finish lacing the back. The gown gave me curves where I had none, cleavage where there was little, and accentuated my small waist, making it appear feminine rather than boyish. I felt beautiful and glamorous and about a dozen other adjectives in between.

“Do you want to go show your friend?” she asked, moving back to allow me access to the door.

“Yes, please,” I answered, taking one careful step at a time behind her as she guided me toward the larger mirrors at the front of the store.

“Oh. My. God!” Sarah shrieked the moment she saw me enter. “If you don’t buy that dress, I will beat you over the head with it and force it on you the day of your wedding.”

“That’s so sweet,” I crooned. I rolled my eyes and took a hesitant step up onto the pedestal. The lovely attendant held out a hand and helped me the rest of the way as I took center stage.

“I know this may sound a little self-absorbed, but I think I might just marry myself dressed in this gown.”