11. Sunny
H e didn’t fight for me.
I spent the entire day after the wedding crying in my bed and waiting for Dex to ring the doorbell. To call me. Email me.
I would have settled for an AOL Instant Message.
But nothing .
I couldn’t believe it, honestly. I know that I shouldn’t have ended things with the expectation that he would make some grand declaration of love for me and everything would work out perfectly…
But I’d be lying if I said that’s not exactly what I wished for.
When my mom came home from work later that evening, she found me still teary-eyed in bed.
“Sweetie, what’s the matter?” she asked, her voice brimming with concern. She hurried to my side and felt my forehead first, then put her fingers on my wrist to check my pulse. When she was confident I wasn’t dying, she asked me again. I couldn’t find the words.
“Did something happen at the wedding last night?” She sighed heavily as she rubbed my back. “This has to do with Dex, doesn’t it.”
I didn’t say anything. I just wept in her arms.
I couldn’t remember the last time I sought comfort from her. Since I met Dex, I’ve only ever wanted to cry on his shoulder. Now I couldn’t. And it was torture.
“Oh sweetheart, I tried to warn you about him,” my mom said tenderly, despite the biting nature of her words. I continued to sob. “You’ll get over him,” she added, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
At least she left for a work conference in Chicago the next morning, so I’ve been able to spend the past few days grieving in peace, without her judging me.
But today is going to be rough; I’m meeting Mia to look at wedding dresses.
She’s been asking me all summer, and I kept putting it off.
Now I have to go, when it’s literally the last thing on Earth I want to do.
“Hey!” I say when I meet her at the bridal shop, giving her a massive hug.
I figure if I take a page from her playbook and squeeze her extra-tight, she might believe I’m actually okay with this breakup—like I’ve tried to tell her on the phone already, twice.
No. Three times. I didn’t give her many details.
All I said was that Dex and I called it quits because of the distance.
Mia pulls back to look at me. I’m wearing white shorts and a bright yellow halter top. It’s the sunniest outfit I own. No broken hearts in this bridal store.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. If I take control of the conversation, maybe she won’t ask me how I’m feeling .
“I thought your mom, or maybe one of your brothers might be with you,” I say. Mia’s the oldest of four, and the only girl in a big Italian family. I look around, but don’t see any of her relatives.
Mia laughs sheepishly. “I’m driving them crazy. I dragged them to five or six shops already this summer, and I still haven’t found a dress I love. My mom says I can keep looking, and if I find something good, to put it on hold.”
“Got it,” I say with a chuckle. “Have you settled on a style you like?”
Mia tilts her head. “I was thinking something fitted, that doesn’t swallow me up.”
“I agree,” I say with a smile as I envision my beautiful friend walking down the aisle.
Maybe this won’t be so hard for me after all.
Once Mia starts trying on gowns, it might actually be fun.
I start browsing through a rack beside me.
“What about this one?” I ask, pulling back a dress for her to see.
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” Mia asks the minute I let my guard down. She looks so worried about me. Her hazel eyes are laced with pity.
“Believe me, I’m fine,” I lie. “I knew things wouldn’t work out with Dex. It’s hard being long-distance. We’re probably both a lot better off.”
Ugh. Is there a bathroom in here? I feel like I might throw up.
Mia eyes me skeptically. “Have you talked to him at all since the wedding?”
I shrug. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Sunny, what if this is all some big misunderstanding? Don’t you think you should at least call Dex before you go back to Evanston? I remember this one time, Evan and I?—”
She’s always comparing our relationships. I really wish she would stop.
Thankfully, the store clerk joins us and cuts her off. “So, which one of you is the lucky lady getting married?” she asks.
Mia turns redder than her sports car.
“ She is,” I say, nodding toward her.
“Wonderful!” the clerk says, clapping. “Follow me to the back of the shop. Our petite collection is small, and it’s selling out!”
Mia turns to look at me. “We really don’t have to do this today, Sunny.”
“Mia, I want to. You’re my best friend. I can be happy for you and sad about Dex.
Yes, it sucks that we broke up. But I’ll be going back to school soon, and partying with my friends, and I’ll forget all about him.
” I need to quit while I’m ahead. “Now let’s find you the world’s most perfect petite wedding dress! ”
Mia laughs. I make sure I’m smiling as we head to the petite section.
Back at school a few weeks later, I tell Sam every heartbreaking detail I was too embarrassed to share with Mia. And Sam does not mince words.
“Well, fuck him!” she declares emphatically.
I look up at her, my eyebrows raised over the enormous mug of ashwagandha tea she made to help me “mellow out.” We’re seated on the couch in her new off-campus apartment, which is very bohemian chic, just like Sam.
There are lush plants and spice-scented candles peppering the living room, a gorgeous Middle Eastern tapestry on the wall, and an expensive-looking Moroccan leather pouf that she insists I can rest my feet on.
The room smells of incense—and maybe just a hint of weed.
I don’t smoke but, regardless, it’s the perfect sanctuary.
“Well, don’t actually fuck him. You know what I mean—just let him go,” Sam clarifies before modeling a full inhale and a long exhale in a sweet attempt to help me.
I manage a shallow inhale followed by a dramatic sigh, and she continues. “I know it’s hard. But you’ll get over him. You deserve so much better,” she says, squeezing my hand.
My eyes fill with tears. “There isn’t anyone better for me than him, Sam.
And I messed everything up. Instead of having a mature conversation with him about our relationship, I panicked.
I let my insecurities get in the way and sabotaged the best thing I’ve ever had.
” I take in a deeper breath this time and exhale slowly.
Maybe Mia was right. I need to talk to Dex.
“I should call him,” I tell Sam. “This is all my fault, and if I’d just been honest with him about how I feel?—”
I can tell by the way she’s wincing that I don’t need to finish my sentence. “Sunny, you told him you needed more than casual sex, and all he said was, ‘I understand.’ I mean, that’s barely even a response!”
“I know how it sounds,” I say wiping my eyes. “But Dex wasn’t acting like himself when he said that. It actually worried me. I mean, I’ve known him my whole life, and I’ve never seen him act that way. He was so distant, so withdrawn. It felt like he was…dissociating.”
“Maybe,” Sam says slowly with a furrowed brow. “But if something had been going on with him, don’t you think he would have called you once he snapped out of it?”
I shrug. At a loss for words, I take another small sip of Sam’s special tea and scrunch my nose. It tastes a little bit like dirt and, perhaps not entirely coincidentally, my eyes start watering even more.
“Look, actions speak louder than words,” Sam goes on to say. “And you haven’t heard from Dex at all in three weeks. I’m sorry, hon, but I think that’s all you need to know.”
I nod despite myself. “You’re right,” I agree, sniffling. “God, I’m surprised I still have tears left. I haven’t stopped crying since the night of the wedding.”
Sam grabs a tissue and hands it to me with a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I feel like an asshole. I’ve been told that I have a hard time sugar-coating things.”
I laugh through my tears. “It’s okay. I like that you have no filter.”
She smiles with relief. “Okay, good. And don’t worry. I’m sure there are plenty of other guys out there who can make you come so hard you?—”
“Sam!” I shriek, setting my gigantic mug down on her coffee table and hiding behind my hands. She’s quiet, so I peek at her through parted fingers.
“What?” she says with a devious smile.
“I’m never telling you anything again.” I toss a mustard-colored throw pillow at her and we both laugh, and it feels so good that, before I know it, we’re having a full-blown pillow fight.
It’s the happiest I’ve felt in weeks. We’re giggling so much we don’t even hear her roommate walk through the front door.
“Just so you know, this is very cliché,” she says out of nowhere, which startles the hell out of me and Sam.
“Oh my god, Claire!” Sam exclaims, clutching her chest and resuming her laughing fit as she hops off the couch to give her roommate a hug.
“Well, you just missed the pillow fight, but you’re right on time for braiding each other’s hair and prank-calling cute boys,” she jokes as she joins me back on the couch.
“Claire, this is my friend Sunny I’ve been telling you about. ”
Claire’s deadpan expression shifts instantly, and she’s beaming as she leans over to give me a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you, Sunny! I’m excited to finally meet you!”
“Same here!” I say, suddenly self-conscious about my tear-streaked cheeks. “I don’t usually have mascara running down my face like this, but I’m kinda going through a breakup…or something,” I explain with a wry laugh as I pat my eyes with a tissue.
“Hence the pillow fight,” Sam chimes in.
“I’m so sorry,” Claire says to me with a tilt of her head.
“Yeah, she’s been hung up on a total player and deserves way better,” Sam elaborates. Then she cranes her neck to see if I need more tea—I don’t.