15
Ella
August 2018
“I ’m sorry, what?” Lily demands, looking at the wedding invitation in her hands. “So… hold on, you’re telling us you’re getting… married in like, five weeks?”
I sip my wine. “Kind of.”
“You didn’t listen to her, did you?” Hannah scoffs. “She’s saying that everyone but us thinks she is. She’s going to run away before this happens, you idiot. This piece of shit invitation means nothing.”
“So, so, wait. How did we not know about this arranged marriage? As far as we knew, you and Matt were, like, in love with each other,” Cate pipes up. “Young love’s dream and all that.”
“Because I kept my family and uni lives separate. I only told Matt about the marriage because, you know, we love each other,” I answer with a shrug. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner, but I thought if I could find a way out of it before now, I wouldn’t have to. But it’s got to this point, so I kind of have to tell you.”
“I get it,” Lily answers. “So, this Dean was the guy at your graduation, right? Because he is hot .”
“Yeah, that was him. You can have him.” I snort. “He’s like my brother. I don’t, and never will, see him as anything more.”
“So… they all pushed you two together since you were born, and not once stopped to think one of you would view the other as a sibling?” Cate asks. “That’s fucked up.”
“Dean said, and to an extent, I agree, that they did what they thought was the right thing. They just didn’t look at the bigger picture,” I say, and in response, they all nod in a sort of agreement. “Either way, this is what it’s come to. I just can’t go through with it. I can’t find any other way to have everyone win in this scenario, so Matt and I are going to run away and elope.”
“Cute!” Lily claps like an enthusiastic seal. “Nothing is more romantic than eloping.”
“Unless that’s your only option rather than be in a forced marriage!” Cate hits her arm, and I laugh.
“We won’t say anything to anyone,” Hannah says.
“So, they don’t even know about Matt, I would assume?” Cate asks.
“None of my family, or Dean, or his family, knows anything about him,” I answer. “All they know is that I don’t want to go through with this. Dean and I went for dinner last week and I tried to breach the subject of an open marriage. He gave up a girl for this contract and I kind of tried to go down that route, but he wouldn’t really say anything other than ‘We’ll discuss it when we’re married.’ That’s not really good enough, and I’m not taking chances. He knows why this is happening, but he refuses to tell me, just like my parents won’t tell me.”
“There’s more to it than just your family losing everything?” Hannah questions.
“I’ve always known there is, but no one will tell me why,” I sigh. “But as Matt said, they’ve controlled me for my whole life. They’ve not given me anything in return for this. Other than money, of course, which isn’t that important in the grand scheme of things.”
“What’re you gonna do for money, Ella?” Cate asks.
“We’ve both got some stashed away. This place is in my name. Dean says they want the profit from this, but they won’t get it,” I answer. “They can’t control me anymore.”
“This is… just… wow , this is intense shit,” Lily says.
“Welcome to the wealthy life! I mean, I’d like to think this isn’t the norm in most people’s lives.”
“I better go, I’m meant to be at work.” Cate checks her watch and stands up. We all engulf each other in a hug, and they take their separate invites. “If we don’t see you before you go, good luck. Contact us!”
“I will, I promise!”
“We love you, Ella!” Lily waves to me as they pile out of the front door. I watch as Dean turns the corner toward me just as they leave my sight.
∞∞∞
I look at the dress Dean picked out for me, and I groan. A black dress with long sleeves and no plunging neckline in sight. Luckily, the sleeves and the top of the neck are see-through, so it still has parts of it that are more ‘me’ but it’s still not what I would pick – to put it lightly. The silver embellishments on the cuffs and the top of the neckline are nice. I’ll give him that.
“Tell me again why the hell I can’t pick my dress?” I demand.
“Because this is a company party, Ella. I mean, the last time you met my parents in a social setting, you had your cleavage on show,” he points out, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a bit of a patronising tone going on.
“Oh, really?” I snort. “Well, I’m sorry, I must have been mistaken because I thought I was a human being.”
“I never said you weren’t.” He’s deadpanning me, and it makes me even angrier.
“No, you didn’t, but you’re acting like I’m not. I am twenty-one, Dean. I can make my own clothing choices,” I retort. “Oh, no I forgot that I can’t, in between being told who I have to marry when I have to marry them, oh, and which fucking wedding dress I have to wear.”
“Ella don’t take this out on me.” He waves his hands in the air. “I’m the one that picked this, if my mother had her way, you’d essentially be wearing one of those maxi dresses you wear on the beach. At least this one shows your legs and has, like, see-through parts.”
“Why, so you can stare at me all night?” I scoff and shake my head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll wear something else.”
“Ella, come on!” He sighs and we stand opposite each other. The tension is like marzipan on a gross wedding cake, hatred fuels and swirls in the air when our eyes meet.
“To show you some respect and to show a compromise, I will wear something that doesn’t show my cleavage, how about that? But I choose my own damn dress. You can send this one back for a refund.” I give him a sarcastic smile.
“I know after what we discussed last week that this is the last—”
“Dean, please.” I put my hand up. “I’ve just had to tell my friends about this whole thing, and let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. The very last thing I want to do is discuss my impending doom, thanks.”
“Is that what you think, Ella? A life of doom?” he questions, and I can physically see the hurt in his eyes and the way they dull; the way he partially looks winded.
“Dean, we’ve been over this,” I remind him, and I want so much to tell him about Matty, but I know for a fact that it’ll put both Matt and our plan in jeopardy and I can’t do that.
Knowing Dean as I do, I’m sure the thought has crossed his mind that I must love someone to be so against this. But if he did, he would have asked me by now.
“I don’t view this as torture. I view this as something we have to do; it’s our duty, Ella,” he mutters ever so quietly, I could have been excused if I hadn’t heard him.
“Duty? Dean, we are not the royal bloody family!” I exclaim. “I’d at least understand if I was a princess! He owns a fucking catering company, Dean, not the Commonwealth.”
“Ella, this is—”
“If you tell me not to overreact, I wouldn’t,” I warn him. It physically makes me cold to think how I could be so cruel to him, but I feel like a Barbie doll, forced to dress and act the way they want me to like I’m plastic to be moulded into who and what they want me to be, and they’ve forgotten that beneath the contract and their moulds, I still have a heart and a soul, and I deserve so much more than this.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Wear what you like to the party. But please, all I ask is that you wear the engagement ring and act as if we’re happy.”
I let go of my anger at his words, watching them turn into bubbles around me. They pop all at once and I feel quite sorry for him. “Of course, I will. Look, I’ll wear the damn dress, okay? Give it back.”
He smiles sadly. “Thank you.”
I take it from him, hang it on the wardrobe door, and turn back to him.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” I apologise.
“No, Ella, I get it. I… I’m sorry,” he whispers. He stands in front of me again, and all too quickly I feel the tension rising like it did that day I nearly kissed him.
For a single split second, I wonder if I hadn’t met Matt, whether I could’ve done this. Maybe if I hadn’t fallen for Matty, I could’ve fallen for him.
Does love work like that? I see it as a living, breathing thing that grows with you. I fell deep and quickly with Matt, but it’s grown and changed as we have, like a flower. Flowers might wilt, but they have so many days and conditions in which they blossom. Bees spread flower pollen so the same flower can grow somewhere else. Love changes and spreads just the same.
So maybe I wouldn’t have fallen for Dean. Maybe I was always destined for Matt.
Dean sighs, and I can see it’s hurting him, that he can feel the tension too. “Look, I better get going. I’ll text you about the party, okay?”
“Sure. Bye, Dean,” I say as he walks out. Things are now so fractured between us that we can’t even talk like we used to. I wish we could, but anything I say to him just comes out wrong and awkward. I suppose it’s the same for him.
I used to tell him all about my favourite books or shows, things I learnt at school, but now it all seems to not even matter. Anything I tell him will sour in comparison to our future because somehow my hatred and anger at our parents has manifested to him. He’s not even the enemy, but he acts like it.
I flop myself on the edge of the bed and stare at the Tiffany box on the bedside table and feel the wave of entrapment come over me. The day for Matty and I to leave cannot come any quicker.
I imagine what would’ve happened if I had kissed him that day. I was so heartbroken, I wonder if it would’ve taken the pain away, if it would’ve made me feel less trapped, if I could have got used to it.
I grab my phone as it buzzes. Matt’s sent me a picture of a packet of bluebells: ‘Just been to Nick’s place with some stuff. Thought I’d tell you now, but a month ago, I gave these to Nick, and he’s planted them for, well, you. I thought they could be our wedding flowers, and your something blue. Bluebells for my Ells Bells xx.’
I smile to myself as I message back: ‘Before we get married, you’ll have to try and turn one inside out, otherwise, you won’t win the one you love xx.’
He texts back immediately a picture of a bluebell inside out: ‘Does this count?’
I scoff and shake my head. ‘I can tell that’s a picture from the internet, Matty. Luckily for you, you won the one you love without turning a flower inside out xx.’
My phone buzzes again, but this time the smile instantly gets wiped when my Mum’s name appears. I open the message: ‘Your father and I have ordered the flowers for the wedding! Seeing as it’s September, we’ve gone for white and blue. This also sorts out your something blue!’
The anger seeps through my veins, threatening to overtake and unleash the truth on her. How dare she choose blue when that’s the colour Matty picked for me. That’s our colour, not hers, not Dean’s.
To be fair to her, she has no idea a man exists that threatens her perfect vision for the day that she and Amelia have in mind for me. Little do they know, there won’t even be a wedding day at all because I’ll become the Runaway Bride – except I’m nothing like Julia Roberts, and I’ll only be running away from one wedding.
∞∞∞
My phone buzzes later on, and I immediately want to throw it when Mum’s name pops up.
“Hello, Mum,” I answer her call with an annoyed tone I know she won’t like.
“Darling, you didn’t answer my text. Please don’t use that tone,” she responds in her usual breezy manner.
“I’m a bit busy, Mum, so I’m sorry. I got your text, yes,” I answer.
“You should come over later and I can show you the pictures of the flowers we’ve chosen. You’ll love them! Blue is a lovely colour for a September wedding, and it’ll suit your dress so well!” she enthuses.
I roll my eyes at the mention of the goddamn dress she went and bought two weeks ago without even letting me see it or try it on.
“Mum, I’m coming to try on the dress on Friday, you can show me then,” I suggest through gritted teeth.
“I haven’t seen you in so long, darling!”
“You saw me a week ago,” I remind her. “I will see you on Friday.”
“Well, if you’re sure, sweetheart! Not long till the wedding now! It’s so exciting!”
“Yeah,” I chide back.
“You don’t sound sure; are you having cold feet, Ella?”
I chortle out loud. “How could I be having cold feet for a wedding I was forced into, Mother? How indeed?” I don’t even know the words have left my mouth until I hear Mum sigh.
For a full thirty seconds, neither one of us says anything, but I can hear her shuffling into another room across the phone.
“Ella, I know this is not how you envisaged your life, sweetheart. This is not what I would have wanted for my children, I can tell you that. But this is the life we must lead,” she hisses down the phone. She doesn’t want Dad to hear this. That is obvious.
“Mum,” I choke, the tears clouding my vision. This is the first time she has ever voiced her distaste for this situation. “Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to marry a man I see as my brother.”
“Oh, Ella!” She’s choking on her words now. “I wish I could make this go away for you.”
That’s all she needs to say. We both know how trapped I am and how she can’t do anything to make it better. Mums are supposed to be the ones to kiss it all better, to hug you when you’re crying and magic everything bad away. What life doesn’t prepare you for is the disappointment when your own mother tells you that this is one hurt that she can’t kiss away.