Page 31 of Gilded Dreams

“Oh, shit.”

Was that real? Did that happen?

I look down at my hand, the diamond glinting in the dressing room light.

I hope it was real. I want it to be real. A woman should be able to remember her wedding.

Stupid Las Vegas.

“Get out here, Ti. Let’s see the dress,” Jen calls from outside the dressing room door.

“Yeah, um, okay. Just a second.” I tuck the new feelings and memories away to examine later. I push the door open, and Evelyn’s shriek pierces my ears.

“Oh, my goodness! You look amazing! That’s the dress, girl! That is the dress!”

“You think?” I ask spinning in front of the mirror.

“Yes. You look incredible.”

“Thank you, Evelyn.”

I spin again, the fabric draping and hugging my curves. I do feel good in this dress.

“Oh, look, Rachel. It’s Rimmington’s wife and her friends.”

Time stops. Birds fall out of their nests. Dogs bark as the high-pitched, glass-breaking super bitch tone of Isadora rings around the room.

Great. Just great.

I’ve done my best to avoid Isadora while at Rim’s house the last few days. It wasn’t easy. She’s been latched on to Rim’s mother like a burr in dog fur. Until now, I’ve been successful. The accent she applied to the wordwifedidn’t go unnoticed.

“Isadora. How nice to see you.” I force the words out, trying to keep things civil for Rim’s sake. I don’t add the cuss words I’m dying to say, like skank ass hoe. I keep it classy.

“Yes, it is nice, isn’t it? It’s nice how you showed up out of nowhere and stole my boyfriend. It’s nice how you took my title. It’s really nice how you, in a matter of a few days, destroyed something my family and I have been working toward the last five years. It’s really nice.”

Oh, this bitch.

Now I see why Rim wanted out of this shit, why being married to a stranger was better than this. I couldn’t even imagine him stuck with this woman. She’s plastic, superficial, and cheap. He deserves far better than her. I inhale a deep breath, preparing to verbally smack Isadora down.

“Here, Jen, hold my earrings.” Evelyn begins to take out her earrings, her native south-side Chicago accent getting thicker as she mumbles to herself in English and broken Spanish.

Every time that phrase gets uttered, it has involved fists and incarceration.

“I didn’t like this uppity, gremlin-faced hoe when I first saw her in that fancy solarium. Her stuck-up ass thinking she’s better than everybody.”

I shake my head and hold up a hand. “Ev, stop. We don’t need to stoop to her level.”

Evelyn looks at me. “Girl, I’m short, I’m almost there.”

I can’t help but laugh, but in no way am I going to get into a fist fight with this woman. She’s just not worth it.

“No, it’s okay. I got this.” I pat Evelyn’s arm as I step around her. Jen and Evelyn move in behind me, a wall of support at my back.

“Look, Isadora. I’m sorry that you’ve had some sort of unrequited thing with Rim. I’m sorry that he doesn’t give two shits about you.” Her mouth does that gasping fish thing, but, oh, I am not done. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry you’ve made up some delusional relationship in your mind for the last five years, and in one drunken night, I’ve ruined your scheme. But maybe, just maybe, if you’d ever pulled that stick out of your ass and acted like a real person, Rim might have seen more in you than a place to leave his semen. With that being said, I have a dress to find because I have a ball to go to tonight, with my husband.”

I turn my back to her, sling my hair over one shouldera laCher style, and sashay back to the dressing room. Behind me, a slow clap develops from Evelyn and Jen.

“That’s our girl,” Evelyn shouts.