2. Selena
Selena
As soon as I get home, I run up the stairs to my third floor apartment.
I’m gasping when I reach the landing. A night of drinking and a serious lack of endurance has me wishing the elevator fucking worked.
Six months and they still haven’t replaced it.
I’m starting to feel like I’m living in the apartment from The Big Bang Theory.
I didn’t make it home until almost four thirty, and my flight leaves at seven.
I’m in a full blown panic. My suitcase lies open on my bed; the only things inside it are my bras and underwear.
I rush over to my dresser and pull out my favorite bathing suit, a few pairs of pajamas and some shorts and shirts to go with them.
My mom’s already told me there are going to be some dinners we will be attending as a blended family, and I am to dress appropriately.
My arms are moving like a mad woman as I absentmindedly toss some sundresses, skirts, and blouses into my suitcase.
I’m not even caring if I fold them or not.
Hopefully the resort has an iron I can use.
The last thing I need is some shoes... I don’t need to worry about my bridesmaid's dress, as Mom has that.
Something about not being able to trust me to remember to bring it...
I zip up my suitcase, and gaze longingly at my bed.
All I want to do is crawl under the comforter and go back to sleep.
But I can’t. A shower would also be amazing, but there’s no time for it.
However, I do need to change. It’ll delay me leaving by another couple minutes, but I can’t avoid it.
Leggings and an oversized sweatshirt are on the menu for today.
I brush my teeth, put on deodorant and throw my hair up in a messy bun, and add just a little blush and some mascara.
Before rushing out the door, I stop long enough to take my birth control and the last dose of antibiotics for the sinus infection I’ve had.
God, I don’t want to go. I promised my mom I’d be there with a smile on my face but I’m not sure if I can do it.
Even with all the issues Mom and I’ve had since my dad died, I want the best for her.
I’m happy she found love again. Losing Dad was hard, especially the way he suffered in those last few months as he slowly morphed from the healthy, muscular athletic trainer he was, to looking like the king from House of Dragons.
There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. He was more than my father, he was my best friend. My ally when Mom would rag on me about my weight, what I was wearing or eating. Now I’m all alone and her belittling of me has only gotten worse.
It makes me long for the time before my father got sick.
Although not the warm and caring mother all my friends had, at least she didn’t treat me the way she does now.
There were no harmful words about my weight or looks and when she did they were never in front of people.
It makes me wonder how she managed to get two men to fall in love with her and marry her.
Do they see a side of her that’s only reserved for them?
Why can’t I, her flesh and blood, get that honor?
I should be happy. Her getting married takes her focus off of me, and gives me space to breathe, but it just seems with her pending nuptials that we’re saying goodbye to the chapter of our life that housed him and ushering in a new one with, what was his name again—ahh, shit, I know it started with an ‘A’.
Fuck me, it’s something I should know. I would if she actually dated him longer than it takes to change her underwear.
I grab water out of the fridge, my phone, keys, and my suitcase and head to the door. I have to make my plane because there’s no way in the world I want to call my mom and tell her I missed the flight.
“Hey Mom, yeah I’m late because I got drunk and was railed by some hot ass stranger last night,” I say out loud, practicing how I’d deliver the news to her. Oh she’d love that. I’d never hear the end of it. It would come up at every family dinner how I ruined her special day.
I’ve just stepped out of my apartment, trying to juggle holding my purse, phone, keys, and water in one hand while I lock the door, when my phone rings.
I let out a groan, knowing there’s only one person it can be.
No one else would be calling me at this ungodly hour.
I pull my key out of the lock and look at my phone, my assumption proven correct when I see her face flashing across the screen.
If I don't answer now, she’ll just continue to call until I do.
So, I might as well rip off the band-aid.
“Mom,” I rush out answering the call.
“Selena Reign Middleton, please do not tell me you’re still at home!” she screams in panic through the line, and I wince. Of course she jumps to that conclusion. It’s accurate, but she doesn’t know that; she just automatically assumes the worst.
“No, Mom. I’m at the airport. Just heading to the gate.” God forgive me for lying, but if I don’t, I’ll never get her off the phone.
“Selena, I may be old, but I’m not dumb.
If you miss your flight, I’m going to kill you.
Abel’s sons are already going to be late, just barely making it for the ceremony.
I need you here,” she chastises me. “Of all the times to be irresponsible, you pick my wedding day. Do you get joy from embarrassing me?”
Here she goes with the guilt trip. I knew it was coming. My head falls back as I hold the phone to my ear, and let out a quiet sigh.
“Mom, I know how important this is to you and I won’t be late.
Well, the only way I would be is if the flight is delayed, so don’t worry.
I’ll see you this evening. I’ll call you before I board my connecting flight, so you’ll know when to expect me.
Now I really have to go or you’ll be the reason I don’t make it.
” I’ll probably regret those words. “I love you. See you soon.” I disconnect the call and order a ride to take me to the airport before awkwardly sliding the phone into my bag.
I pick up my suitcase and rush down the stairs.
God I hate this apartment. I really need to find a new place to live.
By the time I make it to the first floor I’m out of breath.
Stepping outside the building, I sit down on the steps and wait for my ride.
Now that I have a moment to just breathe without being in an absolute panic, all I can think about is my dad.
I miss you, Dad! If you were here, I wouldn’t be going through this. Dealing with Mom’s criticism all on my own. Seeing her marry another man who isn’t you.
It’s not fair.
You should still be here. I won’t get a chance to have you walk me down the aisle. To have the father of the bride dance with you. To see your grandchildren born. You were robbed of the life you still had to live by fucking cancer.
A dark car pulls up to the curb in front of the apartment building and I see the logo for the site in the windshield.
I stand up and head toward it with my luggage as a middle-aged gentleman with graying hair, receding hairline, and a potbelly exits the driver’s side as the trunk of his car pops up.
“Selena?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He reaches out and takes my luggage from me as he opens the back passenger door for me to get inside. I peek out the back window and see him storing my luggage in the trunk. Once he’s done, he closes the trunk, hurries around the car, and gets in.
“Airport?” he asks, confirming my destination.
“Yes, sir.” I keep my phone in my lap, hoping he thinks I’m on it so he doesn’t ask me any more questions. But he doesn’t get the hint.
“Vacation?” he asks, no doubt trying to make idle chit-chat. I loathe conversation for no reason. More so when I’m tired.
“No.”
I take a deep breath and catch the first full whiff of myself and totally regret my choice to not shower. I reek of sex. God help me. Right now, getting a lecture from my mom for missing the plane doesn’t sound so bad.
“Work?” He glances at me in the rearview mirror, clearly intent on keeping this conversation going. Needless to say his review is going down for it.
I purse my lips, not wanting to talk about my life with some random stranger. He continues to stare, waiting for an answer. Guess my silence isn’t an obvious enough clue, so I finally speak up, not really wanting to be rude.
“No,” I tell him, hating that I’m being a bitch but I don’t feel like talking.
I decide to message my mom and hope he gets the picture I don’t want to talk.
Me: Mom, when I get in, I’m just going straight to the resort and checking in.
Mom: No, that’s not acceptable.
Me: Why not?
Why does it matter if I check in without seeing her first? All she wants is to portray the image of a perfect family. I’m doing that just by being at the wedding. Shouldn’t that be enough? It’s best her new husband knows what our relationship is like from the get go.
Mom: I told Abel what time you’re getting in and he wants to meet you and have an early dinner before taking me for a moonlight cruise on his boat.
Mom: His sons will be here tomorrow afternoon, just in time for the wedding. They had to rearrange their shifts at their new job. I’d at least like for one of our children to be here today.
Me: Mom!
Really? People do have to work and this wedding was planned just a month ago. What the hell does she expect? I know. She thinks everyone should be at her beck and call.
Mom: What? It’s the truth. You’d think our children would be here supporting us instead of giving us anxiety on our special day.
Me: Ok, well they’re calling for us to board. GTG.
I hate lying, but listening to her bitch is even worse. She has to be the center of attention, and if I’m made to be the villain, she likes it even more.
Thankfully the driver finally gets the picture that I don’t want to carry on a conversation and he doesn’t try to ask me anything else.
I immerse myself in my phone, scrolling through all my emails, answering the ones I need to, and deleting those that are spam.
A little while later, as we pull up in front of the airport, I’m just finishing clearing out the nearly three hundred emails in my inbox.
I should really get better about doing that.
I never thought being an accountant would require answering this many emails, especially when it’s not even tax season.
I’ve been lucky in my career, starting as a freelance accountant.
Word of mouth spread quickly, and I gained a steady clientele, affording me the ability to work from home, as well as set my own schedule.
The driver gets out and makes his way to the back of the car and gets out my luggage. I don’t wait for him to open my door and get out.
“Here you go, Selena. Have a wonderful trip,” he tells me sweetly.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I turn and head inside.