Beyond The Waves

Nineteen | The Fundraiser

Pushing open the bathroom window, the strong scent of the ocean drifted in on the warm breeze, and when it grazed my cheeks, I brought my hands to my face and traced its wake. The sizzle of nerves subsided as if they were carried out with the wind, replaced by an absolute calmness.

It could be my parent's saying thank you for caring for their house.

I showered, did my makeup, and dried my hair, attempting a blow-out but settled on using the curling iron left under my mother's sink. Her hairbrush sat untouched, loose strands of caramel-colored hair still woven between the bristles.

All I had left was the yellow dress hanging on the oak-carved canopy of my parent's bed. My robe fell to the floor at the same time my phone rang with a new message, and I practically dove for it.

Hey, no worries. Glad to hear I didn't overstep. Are you ready for tonight?

I reread Weston's name repeatedly, biting my nail, which did nothing to hide my endless smile.

No, I'm about to pour myself a glass of wine. Want me to pour you one?

Removing the sleeveless and backless dress from the hanger, I slipped it over my head, avoiding my hair, and contorted my arms to zipper the back. The fabric accentuated my hips but fell loose around my legs.

Another text came through: I'll have to pass. Have one for me, though.

Disappointment settled over me. Not knowing what to reply, I closed his contact, sprayed my mother's perfume on my neck and wrists, dug through her jewelry to find her gold drop diamond necklace and earrings, and then stared at my reflection.

Tonight would go great and fast.

My speech would go smoothly.

And I would not cry.

In the kitchen, I gulped a sizable glass of red wine over the sink, making sure not to spill any, and tucked my crinkled speech into my wristlet, phone, keys, and lipstick and climbed into my car.

Before pulling out of the driveway, I stared at Weston's last message and replied: I had one for you.

Long golden rays cascaded through the trees, glinting off leaves and into my car. Through the cracked windows, I listened to the crunch of earth against my tires, the rustling of branches, and sleepy seagull songs as they readied to settle in for the evening.

My knuckles turned white against the steering wheel as I drove closer to the park near Cliff Beach. Not a single soul moved in town. Only the occasional boat rocked in the harbor, and street lamps flickered. Everyone was inside, likely getting ready for the eventful night.

When the park came into sight, people moved swiftly, setting tables and rearranging chairs, all while Nora stood on the tiny platform stage, pointing in different directions. She wore a long, navy blue dress, her black hair slick in a bun, and a clipboard in hand.

I had to give Nora credit. She outdid herself this year.

On top of the white table cloths, candles glowed under hurricane holders, bouquets of lavender, baby's breath, and eucalyptus sat in the center alongside the tableware, and strung above the dining area and around trees were twinkle lights. The best part of the entire scene was the perfect backdrop of the lapping ocean.

Before leaving my car, I scanned the area for Zoe, but she was nowhere to be found. I texted asking if she was there, but she and her fiancé ran behind. With a groan, I climbed out of my car and made my way over to the stage.

"Ivey," Nora gasped. "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart."

She engulfed me in a pitiful hug, clearly not wanting to ruin her hair or makeup.