Page 649 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Okay. Just remember: you can’t let her get to you, okay? This is your wedding week. You can’t let your sister ruin it for you.”
Salem
My sister is the most beautiful woman in the world.
She has dark hair like mine but it’s glossy and straight, and her skin is pale and unblemished, while mine is riddled with freckles, especially under my eyes and on the tip of my nose.
Arrow loves them.
He likes to count my freckles every night as if he’s counting the stars in the sky and God, I wish he was here with me.
If I had told him, he would’ve come.
Well, first he would’ve told me to not go and, obviously, we would’ve had a fight. Because he may be the guy I love and the guy I’m going to marry this Saturday, but he can’t tell me what to do.
Since I hate fighting with him, I would’ve started crying in the end, and since he hates seeing me cry, he would’ve hit something, like a wall or a door, in an aggressive display of helplessness before storming out of the apartment that we live in.
Hours later, he would’ve come back and found me in bed, waiting for him. He would’ve slid inside the covers and I would’ve turned to him. He would’ve counted my freckles and kissed each one of them and fucked me slowly and gently.
And finally, he would’ve told me that the only way I could go see Sarah was if he came with me.
Damn it.
Why didn’t I let it happen that way?
Why didn’t I tell him that I was going to see Sarah and why the hell did I make Callie promise me that she wouldn’t tell him either?
What was I trying to accomplish?
Well, if it was shaking legs and a thumping heart with sweaty hands, I think I’m doing fantastic.
The thing is, my sister always reduces me to this nervous, self-conscious wreck.
Even though I’m wearing a perfectly pretty dress made of orange-yellow cotton with cap sleeves and a boat neckline, I still feel inadequate in front of her.
Sarah has on a semi-professional silk blouse and a pencil skirt that I find, just from the looks of it, very constraining. I wonder how anyone can move in that thing, let alone sit so daintily perched at the edge of her seat with her legs crossed.
I was early, but Sarah was already sitting there when I arrived at the venue of her choosing, a little Mexican restaurant a few blocks away from Arrow’s and my apartment in California.
Should’ve known. My sister loves arriving super-duper early and telling people that they’re late. Which she did with me.
But anyway, I’ve been here fifteen minutes and so far, we’ve ordered food, exchanged pleasantries and chatted about her job—she’s in PR and works for a firm on the east coast. She moved there when she found out about Arrow and me. Before that, she worked for the firm that handles the PR for Arrow’s team.
She asks me what my plans are after college and I tell her that I haven’t decided anything yet. That right now, I’m enjoying my classes and playing soccer. She looks slightly disappointed at that.
It absolutely does not feel like we’re seeing each other after over a year.
On the other hand, it does feel familiar. In the sense that we’ve never been close and there have never been any sisterly displays of affection between us.
Even today we just smiled at each other. Mine was bright and with teeth, hers was a small, tight one.
And now, as we wait for our food to arrive, I broach the subject of my wedding. “So, uh, did you get the card? I mean, the invitation.”
Sarah was about to take a sip of her water but she pauses now and lowers the glass to the table. For some reason, her cautious action puts me on alert.
She looks at me. “Yes, I did.” A hesitant smile, something I don’t expect to see from my sister; she’s always been so confident. “Thank you. For sending that. I wasn’t expecting it.”
I’m taken aback.
