I picked up Dave from the hospital, but he didn’t really say much to me in the car, much to my frustration. He had some bags of some supplies, but I didn’t really get a good look at what it was. It wasn’t any of my business. As concerned as I was about him, if he didn’t want me to know, I couldn’t rightfully snoop to see what was wrong. I was technically his boss, but it didn’t feel right to pull that card on my friend. Plus it was probably illegal to ask for specific medical details, anyways.
Margaret and I surprised Shelly on her birthday, well on the following Saturday, with a shopping trip to the mall and dinner. We had a great gal pal day, and she was thoroughly excited, talking all about the wedding planning. It was about a month away now, and Shelly was in the thick of picking out dresses and cakes and all of that. Shelly and Jack were planning on a smaller wedding, just with their families and close friends, but she was still super excited. She asked me to be the maid of honor, which I accepted, of course.
Margaret and I had to go in for a dress fitting at one point. Shelly decided on purple bridesmaids’ dresses to match the tints on her wedding dress. Her wedding dress was a beautiful white dress, though with so many layers that I wondered how she didn’t completely sink under the weight of it. Regardless, she looked stunning in it. The purple trim framed it really well, and Sheila was just over the moon about it.
“Ahh, Margaret, you look gorgeous!” Shelly squealed.
“Thank god you’re not one of those crazy brides who makes her bridesmaids wear shitty dresses,” Margaret sighed in relief, twirling in front of the mirror.
“Shelly’s too nice for that,” I said as I stepped out of the dressing room.
“Oh. My. God! Any! That’s looks ah-ma-zing on you!” Shelly gushed as she attacked me in a hug.
“Whoa, Shelly, don’t kill me here,” I laughed.
“Come here!” Shelly gestured to Margaret, making us lean in close for a picture.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait until the wedding when our hair is done up nice and stuff to take pictures?” I questioned her.
“Shh, the bride gets what the bride wants,” Shelly winked, making Margaret and I roll our eyes.
I took off work for the wedding, to which I was really looking forward. I didn’t even have to plan a crazy bachelorette party: Margaret was doing it! Shelly thought it was a better idea than me planning, and I was so happy I didn’t have to worry about it that I didn’t even mind her insulting my party planning skills. To be fair, Margaret was planning something with crazy strippers, so I was happy to not deal with it.
I was helping Shelly with a lot of the wedding planning though, and I probably gained about five pounds from wedding cake and catering food sampling alone.
It was really shaping out to be Shelly’s beautiful wedding creation, though. She was one of those people who had been dreaming up their wedding ever since they were a little kid. Her dream was coming true, though with a few tweaks. For one, there was no unicorn, and Jack vetoed going in on a tractor.
“I know in Indian weddings they come in on a horse, Lia, but I’d really prefer not to be on a tractor,” Jack stated firmly. Shelly rolled her eyes at him but was happy to comply. They were so deep in love that it made everyone around them want to either get married or puke. Margaret was in the first; I was usually in the latter. Shelly was over the moon as she planned her wedding, though thankfully she wasn’t too much of a crazy bride. She was super excited, and we all could tell. It was more endearing than obnoxious.
Jack, on the other hand, seemed more relaxed about the wedding planning. He was letting his fiancé do a lot of the work, opting to watch from the sidelines and help whenever she needed his help with something. After Shelly chose the place, Jack checked it out and booked it. He spent time with the decorators making sure that what Shelly wanted could be created, from schematics to logistics. From what Shelly told me, he was spending more time planning the honeymoon and Shelly was spending more time planning the wedding.
They had a system, and it was insanely effective. I was almost jealous.
On other notes, it was my mother’s birthday this past Wednesday, the 20th, though I couldn’t get off work to spend time with her. She didn’t seem to mind, though, as she and Gabe were leaving for yet another trip this weekend. Their trip to Singapore was a great success, and they were going to the Philippines this time, or at least that’s what they had decided as of a month ago. They tended to change their plans last-minute. Both of them were a bit indecisive and impulsive sometimes.
My parents had saved up a lot in the past years, and they were finally spending it all. Gabe was working part time, but he managed to work full weeks while at home and only worked a few hours on the weeks he was vacationing. It evened out so the office didn’t mind his crazy lawyer manipulations. My mother’s charities were going well. She had donated a lot of her time to them, and she was reaping the rewards of the knowledge that she was making a difference.
“I just love working with the kids,” she had once told me. “I feel like I’m actually making a difference on their future. You know, I had to work a lot when your father died, but even then the social work made me feel like I was helping someone. Now I can help not just one or two kids as well as my daughter, but I can make an impact on hundreds. I feel like I personally know each and every one of these children, and it’s a beautiful thing.”
I didn’t quite understand the drive for doing social work and committing all of your time to charity, but I personally thought my mom found a sort of comfort in knowing she was needed in those communities. I didn’t say anything to her, though: there was no point in asking. I didn’t want to be analyzing her personality or anything.
The kettle whistled, snapping me out of my revere. I rushed into the kitchen, turning off the stove. I made a cup of tea and then checked on the lasagna for Olivia’s potluck, which was tomorrow.
“Hello Anaya!” Olivia said cheerily as I walked into the apartment.
“Happy birthday, Olivia!” I responded enthusiastically.
“Thanks! How have you been?”
“I’m doing well, thanks. You?”
“Everything is going great. Have you met my boyfriend?” Olivia asked, handing me a cup of water, knowing my drink preference. I accepted it from her, nodding my thanks.
“No, I don’t believe so. I didn’t realize you had a serious partner.”
“We’re just casually dating, though, not quite as serious as the term boyfriend implied,” Olivia clarified with happiness in her eyes.
“Oh, okay. So who’s the lucky guy?”
“See the guy over there with blonde hair and the dark shirt?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s him! Isn’t he hot?” She squealed.
I laughed at her excitement. “He’s lucky to have you. He better treat you right,” I warned.
“Don’t worry,” Olivia groaned. “Margaret’s already given him the best friend speech.”
“Okay, good.”
“Besides, it’s just sex. There’s not really a huge emotional attachment to it,” Olivia stated airily as I took a sip of water. Olivia’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
I choked on my water, coughing at her bluntness. “Whatever works for you,” I responded when I caught my breath.
“Well, I’d better go socialize. Talk to you later!” She said, floating off to go talk to some more people. I ventured out into the crowd, hanging out with Margaret and some other friends of hers and Olivia’s. We all enjoyed the company and delicious food. We made Olivia blow out a bunch of candles on her cake, just for the heck of it, making her blush at all of the drama.
“It’s not a big deal!” She protested when we brought the candles out, but she acceded to our badgering.
The night grew old as we all sat and talked to each other, telling stories. Many of them I didn’t know as I didn’t know Olivia all that well, but they were funny and entertaining. Olivia seemed to enjoy herself, having a glass of wine and sitting with her boyfriend. It was a really nice get together, even though I felt a bit out of place. Olivia was more of Margaret’s friend than mine, but we got along well in the times we had met each other.
“It’s getting late. I’d better be getting back,” I said, standing up around midnight.
“Oh, boo you,” Olivia said, pouting a little. Her boyfriend noticed and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth, literally kissing the pout away. Margaret and I laughed as a couple of Olivia’s friends cat-called them.
“I’ll see you later,” I waved goodbye as I left the apartment.
I got home and sat on the sofa, kicking my feet up as I put on a television show. Some characters from NCIS raced around the screen, chasing after a criminal. The lights flashed across my face, but for once, I wasn’t completely satisfied with being home alone.
For the first time in my life, I started to think about having a house and starting a family. I imagined having a cute countryside house, like those village cottages that are the epitome of cuteness. I grew up in a big house with lots of room and space outside, but it felt lonely a lot. I didn’t want that feeling in my own home. I wanted a house with a nice backyard. Maybe a swing set or slide or tree house. I wanted kids to play in the backyard, though I didn’t want to have to go through childbirth. That was too painful for me.
‘I can just adopt kids,’ I decided.
I could see myself with three or four kids, an older one pushing himself on a swing set. I could see myself barefoot, pushing a younger girl on another swing. I could see Daniel holding a baby, feeding it from a bottle.
‘Is this my future?’ I wondered. ‘Could this be my future?’