Chapter Thirteen
Eight Months Ago
Now that I had someone to do things with, my weekends didn’t seem quite so bleak. After months of planning with Luke, we had settled into a comfortable routine. So much so that it felt like we had known each other for much longer than we had. That said, there was still a lot he didn’t know about me. And, if I was being honest, I preferred that it stayed that way.
“I don’t like the outdoors,” I said on a Sunday afternoon while we were sitting in the tented patio of Bar Willow looking out over the glittery, snow-covered landscape of Wascana Park. I had just gotten design approval from Kate, and Luke was in the process of sending the final invitation proofs to the printer while I composed an email requesting a block of hotel rooms at the Hotel Saskatchewan. An accomplished multi-tasker, he was also trying to convince me to go hiking.
“We’re basically outdoors now.” He gestured towards the gorgeous winter wonderland outside the tent’s plastic windows. “And look how beautiful it is.” He was right. From where I was sitting, I had a clear view of the hundred-year-old Saskatchewan Legislative Building, its stately dome poking through soft, fluffy clouds.
“I like this kind of outdoors.” I pulled my winter jacket tighter around my shoulders. “The kind where there are heaters so you can enjoy the beauty, be cozy and exert as little effort as possible. This I can do.”
“What about walking?”
“If it’s not freezing, I could give you a slow stroll.”
“Possibly a meander?”
“Anything over and above a saunter and I’m out.”
He laughed. “You sound like Hannah. Despite begging me to take her camping this summer, her love for outdoor activity is marginal at best.”
“Sounds like a smart girl,” I said as he passed me his iced virgin margarita so I could have a sip. “I don’t know how you can drink something like this in the winter. I know we’re basically inside, but it’s still cold.”
“I’ve always run hot,” he said, unzipping his jacket to reveal a pale blue T-shirt underneath. He patted his stomach and grinned. “I’ve got a lot of insulation. I’m basically like a bear.”
“Like Winnie the Pooh?” I picked up the drink he had set down in front of me and smelled it.
“I was thinking something more manly like Baloo, but sure, I’ll take Pooh.” He raised his eyebrow. “Are you going to drink that or just smell it?”
“You know this is pure sugar, don’t you?” I stirred it with his straw.
“Yes, I do, that’s why I offered you some.”
I looked at him with suspicion. “I don’t know if I should pretend to be offended or legit be scared because you already know my greatest weakness.” I finally gave in and took a long sip from his straw. “Mmmm…pure sugar….” I slid the drink back with a contented smile on my face, sugar craving satiated.
Luke laughed. “You look like you’re high.”
I answered in the form of a delicate burp and then giggled. “I feel pretty good actually. This is the first time I’ve been here when I didn’t look at the wine list. When I didn’t imagine what I’d get if I were drinking. This is the first time I didn’t need to do that.”
“I’m glad,” he said and drained the rest of the margarita. “It must be hard to be around temptation all the time. Sticking to your resolve takes a lot of courage. I admire that.”
“I’d hold my applause until after I’ve made it more than four months,” I said, brushing off his compliment but touched that he’d said it.
One of the things I liked about Luke was that I could be myself around him. I didn’t have to pretend to be put together and in control of my life. I loved Kate and Ben, but sometimes, because I knew they worried about me, I had to hold things back. With Luke, I could let everything hang out. There was no one to impress. Nothing to lose. I didn’t have to be perfect, put-together Julie. I could just be Julie, swears, scars and all.
“Okay.” I flipped a page in my notebook. “Let’s talk cake tasting.”
He sat up, ready to get back to business. “All right. So, the last time we talked”—he searched through his notes—“was right after you ate all the cake at the first tasting, angering both Ben and Kate.”
“They weren’t angry,” I clarified. “They were more….”
“Disgusted?”
“Definitely more accurate.”
He laughed. “Did you want me to go to the next one?”
“That’s probably for the best.” I stretched and groaned. “So, do you want to do this stupid walk around the lake in the snow or what?”
His eyes lit up, clearly surprised at my willingness. “Sure!”
“I should probably start fitting some exercise into my schedule.” I wrapped my cream-coloured scarf around my neck and hiked up my jeans. “The older I get the harder it is to walk up the steps in my apartment.”
“I could always introduce you to snow shoeing.” He pulled a green woollen hat out of his pocket and pulled it down over his ears.
“Nope, I’d rather be wheezy.” I zipped up my puffy blue coat.
He laughed. “I do have a question before we leave though,” he said.
“Go for it.”
“Will we need to budget for a security guard for the wedding to make sure you don’t eat the cake before the couple has a chance to cut it?”
“Hilarious,” I deadpanned as I laid a twenty on the table. “Next time, drinks are on you.”
I was up early on Sunday morning, ready to power through my to-do list. Thanks to planning this wedding, I could use my newly non-hungover self to do something productive. Now I was surprisingly eager to get out of bed on the weekends, knowing there was something to do; knowing I had a purpose. I was so eager, in fact, that I barely acknowledged that the nausea I usually felt when I woke up had subsided; the craving to have a drink barely there. I was finally turning a corner again. I had almost made it through the remnants of withdrawal.
I would keep my mini-celebration to myself though—today was an even bigger day than most. Kate had texted to say the alterations to the bridesmaids’ dresses were complete and we—me and her twenty-five-year-old cousin Marnie—were going to meet at her place to try them on at noon. I had just enough time to put in a few solid hours researching party favors for the wedding guests before I left.
I arrived at Kate’s apartment at 11:45 a.m., Tim Hortons coffee and muffins in hand, to a wide-open door and an alarming high-pitched squeal coming from inside. Kate’s cat, Mittens, was sitting in the hall, clearly not impressed with the noise level.
“Hey buddy,” I said as I scooped him up under my arm and closed the door behind me. “I’m here!” I yelled. “I found your cat outside.”
“Oh shit.” Kate ran up to the door to greet me, her dark curls bouncing. “We must not have closed the door properly when we brought in the dresses.” She grabbed Mittens out of my arms and murmured sweetness into his furry neck. “Come see your dress!” She grabbed my arm. “It’s gorgeous.”
I put my purse on the kitchen table and followed her down the hall. I was looking forward to trying it on again.
“You both look stunning,” Kate had said when Marnie and I had tried the dresses on two months ago. I hadn’t argued; some dresses fit me better than others and this one actually fit pretty good. I’d turned around in front of the three-way mirror, admiring how the clingy fabric hugged my curves in all the right places. Kate’s colours were going to be rose and gold and the smoky rose colour of my dress went perfectly with my blonde hair and green eyes. If I couldn’t drink at the wedding, at least I could look good.
“I might even wear this again after the wedding,” I’d said and turned to Kate. “Thanks for letting us pick dresses that are functional.”
“I look so hot,” Marnie had said as she’d piled her caramel-coloured waves on top of her head, puckered her lips and snapped about twenty-five selfies. Despite how much she got on my nerves, I had begrudgingly smiled in agreement.
Marnie personified everything I disliked about women her age. She was young and perky, entitled and opinionated and, above all else, incessantly online. Every time I saw her she was either scrolling through her phone or taking a selfie. She was never present. She never paid attention. And the only thing she talked about was herself. I knew deep inside that I probably disliked her because she embodied everything I’d taken for granted when I was in my twenties—minus the online part—but more often than not, I pushed that logic away and continued to treat her with disdain, like the sullen, cynical Gen-Xer that I was.
I was greeted by her giggles as I walked into the bedroom. She was sitting on Kate and Ben’s bed, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone, sipping on a mimosa.
“Julie!” she shrieked and jumped up, sloshing the drink so it came perilously close to escaping the glass. The sharp tang of champagne and orange juice tickled my nostrils and my brain buzzed with the anticipation of dopamine.
Excellent. The cravings are back.
“Hi Marnie,” I said through gritted teeth as she gave me a tight, boozy hug. I shot Kate a “Please get your cousin off of me” look but she just smiled and shrugged, taking the champagne flute out of Marnie’s hand so she wouldn’t slop the rest down my back.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Marnie said, blue eyes dancing, plucking the glass out of Kate’s hands and taking a slug. “I can’t wait to try our dresses on.” She thrust a half-empty champagne bottle in my direction. “Want some?”
I was about to politely decline when she interrupted me with an aggressive “Shit!” causing Mittens to jump off the bed and sprint out of the room. “Shit, sorry,” she said again. “Oh my God, I totally forgot you don’t drink anymore. Unless….” She raised her eyebrows.
“Still no.” I wrestled one of the coffees out of the cardboard take-out container and held it up. “I’m good though. I’ve got coffee.”
“Do you mind if I still—” she started.
“Of course not,” I said, used to people asking, knowing they were rarely sincere. “Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t.”
She breathed a noticeable sigh of relief and took another sip. “Phew! I don’t think something as momentous as this could be celebrated with just coffee.” She turned to me. “No offence. I’m going to go get more juice. Want a refill, Kate?”
“No thanks,” Kate said. “Sorry,” she whispered after Marnie had flounced out of the room. “I told her you were getting coffee and she brought champagne anyways. I’m glad I had orange juice to mix with it or she probably would have finished it off by now.”
“Out of all the people on the planet you could have chosen to be your bridesmaid, why did you have to pick someone I don’t like?” I sat on the edge of the bed.
“To be fair,” she said, “you don’t like a lot of people.”
“True.” I opened the plastic lid on the coffee and took a sip. “But I dislike her the most.”
“I know,” she said. “Sorry. I thought if I asked Marnie, her mom would do my flowers for free. And she is. So it’s kind of worth it.” She sat down beside me and put her head on my shoulder.
“I guess.” I sighed. “I’m going to have to keep my distance at the Stag and Doe. Since I’ve stopped drinking, I have a very low tolerance for the innocence of youth.”
Kate laughed as Marnie came back into the room. “What’s so funny, chickees?”
“Nothing.” I got up, put my coffee on the dresser and, for my best friend Kate, plastered the biggest, most excited smile I could muster on my face. “Let’s try on the dresses!”
When would I learn not to get my hopes up?
It turned out my bridesmaid’s dress didn’t fit. I guess eating what amounted to handfuls of sugar to try to temper the effects of alcohol withdrawal hadn’t been the best plan after all.
“Suck in just a bit more,” Marnie grunted as she tried to force the zipper over my newly acquired additional curves, my breasts pushing up against the not-as-generous-as-I-thought V-neck. “I almost have it.”
“You don’t almost have it,” I snapped, swatting her hand away, irritation camouflaging embarrassment. “It’s no use; we’re fighting a losing battle. If you pull any harder, you’re going to wreck the dress.”
“Do you have your period today?” Marnie asked, hands on her hips, looking slim and stunning in her dress, all of her parts inside of it. “Maybe you’re, like, retaining water.”
Shut up, Marnie, I wanted to say, but instead I said, “No, I don’t have my period. I must have gained some weight.” I peeled off the dress and covered it back up with the garment bag, pressing my lips together, trying not to cry.
“It’s okay!” Kate said brightly. “We can get it taken out. I’m sure the seamstress will be able to make it work.” She smiled.
“Let me take care of it,” I said and grabbed the dress. “Or maybe I just won’t eat for seven months,” I joked.
“Ha!” Marnie scoffed. “It takes longer than seven months to lose weight when you’re in your thirties.”
“I’m in my forties.” I glared at her.
“Yeah.” She took another sip of mimosa, peering at me over the glass.
I opened my mouth, ready to tell Marnie where she could shove the champagne glass, when Kate wisely steered her out of the room, asking her to go check on Mittens.
“It’s okay,” Kate said again, her eyes full of sympathy. “It will all work out.”
I sat on the bed in my slip and sighed. “I know. I’m sorry for losing it on Marnie. This should be an exciting day for you and I’ve, once again, made it all about me. I’m really sorry, Kate.” My eyes filled with tears, but this time not because of the dress. This had been my first big test to show that I was getting better. That I could be unfazed and completely in control. My first chance to show Kate that she didn’t have to worry about me anymore, and I had failed.
“It’s a good thing all the champagne is gone,” Kate joked, shaking the empty bottle, trying to make me laugh.
She had no idea how right she was.