Bonus Epilogue
Dean
There’s always a strong feeling of relief when I come home to my apartment, still and silent and safe, after a day of masquerading as a functioning adult. But this time, there’s something else in the mix. Something that doesn’t taste right.
Envy.
Downstairs, where my cousin just proposed to the love of his life during our twice monthly Dungeons and Dragons game, the room was filled with light and joy, to the point that even I felt warmed by it.
Here, the comforting quiet of my own place also punctuates the difference between the two homes, the two thrown into sharp relief in a way that reminds me of just how much Eli now has that I will never have.
My god, he deserves it, and I begrudge him nothing, I swear it.
But it hurts. This time, it hurts deep inside my chest like a poked bruise.
With a sigh, I put down my keys and glare at myself in the mirror by the door.
What the actual ever loving cherry flavored FUCK were you thinking?
I scowl at the stupid prick in the reflection and turn away, running a hand over my face.
All I can think is that I got carried away in the moment, and felt so happy for Eli that I just..
.well, I didn’t run my mouth, as that’s impossible, but the result is the same. What a stupid pissing thing to do.
There’s no way on this earth I can be his best man.
My stomach churns at the thought. Me, the mute lump of fuck, making a best man’s speech with my hands that no-one except a scant few would even understand.
It would be hilarious if it wasn’t such a disaster.
How can I organize his bachelor party when I can’t stand to be in busy social situations for longer than five minutes without freaking out and remembering the sound of gunfire?
And, Christ, the wedding itself, the responsibilities I’d have, being trapped with all of those people…
I can’t.
Now I’ve maneuvered myself into a position where I have to let him down.
The man who’s been better than any brother could possibly have been, the man who has never once failed me…
I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and now I have to look him in the face and say.
..what? That I was only joking? Or that I’m so much of a worthless chicken shit that I can’t quit being selfish and just swallow my neuroses for one single solitary day in grateful thanks for everything he’s done for me?
He emigrated from the States so I wouldn’t be alone on the other side of the world, and I can’t stand next to him in a registry office for a short while to make him happy?
I slump on my sofa and sigh. How can I disappoint him like that?
How can I not? I can’t ruin his wedding with a meltdown. I shudder as I picture it: Eli having to interrupt his wedding ceremony, asking Leo to pause the service so he can guide me through a breathing exercise. Fuck no. I’d rather die.
OK, so I’ll figure something out to say to him.
He’ll be sad, but he won’t judge me and he will get it, kind hearted as he is and knowing me the way he does.
He might even be relieved. Leo can rightfully take the best man spot instead of officiating, Eli and Em can be married by someone who does it professionally, and I’ll just go to the wedding as a normal guest instead.
Normal, huh? You? That’s a joke.
I huff, irritated. I wish my brain wasn’t so spiteful sometimes. But the chills that prickle over my skin as I picture just being a guest, sitting among all those people, no chance of an exit, no way out as the panic mounts and mounts to a feverish high…
Maybe if I sit towards the back, near the door? So I can slip out if my throat starts to close up?
Valium, my mind whispers to me like a text from an old friend that betrayed you long ago.
I shove that idea away, hard. No. I promised my mother never again, and I’m not breaking my word.
She and I went through a lot to break me of my burgeoning dependency years ago, so I’m not going down that road again, no matter how seductive the idea is.
No matter how great it would be to just take one, and be able to relax at Eli and Emily’s wedding and enjoy the day with them rather than sweat and shiver through it.
I’ll figure something out so I can be there. I’m so happy for them both, and I am not missing out on their special day. I would always regret that.
But god damn if my throat isn’t tightening already, before they’ve even set a date.
Sadie
“Thanks so much for the lift,” I say as Leo pulls up just outside my flat in his new Audi A4.
“Anytime, Pumpkin, you know that,” he says easily, though it’s about a mile out of his way. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early.” I climb out of the passenger side and shut the door, and then poke my head through the open window. “L plates on Em’s chair tomorrow, yeah?”
He grins. “And a copy of The Joy of Sex on Eli’s chair.” I laugh. “I was also planning on going in early with a multipack of condoms and an air pump,” he says.
“Niiiiiiice.” I point at him in warning. “Though don’t be wasting any ribbed ones. That’s some woman’s orgasm down the drain otherwise.”
His eyes gleam. “Really? Ribbed condoms float your boat, huh? Noted.”
I roll my eyes and smile. “Have a good one.”
“Always do.” With a final wink, he waits until I’m walking into my flat before he drives off.
My boyfriend’s shoes are by the door, and his keys are on the side table by the coat hooks.
“Sadie?”
I feel horribly disloyal for the way my heart sinks as I hear Peter call me from the lounge.
Not that I don’t love him or want to be around him, but it’s obvious from the clipped tone of just those two syllables that he’s not in the best of moods.
Talk about harshing my buzz after a fantastic evening where I watched two of my best friends get engaged.
“Hey,” I call back as I shrug off my jacket and hang it up, in no hurry to join him.
Seems like he feels the same. He doesn’t come out to greet me with a kiss, like he used to, and he doesn’t so much as look up when I find him on the sofa with a pile of marking next to him.
I decide to make the effort anyway. “Guess what,” I say with the biggest smile I can muster up, even if he isn’t looking. “Eli proposed to Emily tonight. They’re engaged. It was so sweet!”
“Hmm,” he grunts, still not looking up. “Bit soon, isn’t it? She’s hardly been here five minutes. And with one failed marriage already behind him…”
My jaw tenses. That’s just unnecessary. I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind - I can’t keep making allowances for him being tired and stressed, because that doesn’t give him a hall pass to be shitty when all is said and done - but then I close it again on a sigh.
He’s not in a frame of mind to listen, and I don’t want to ruin this particular lovely evening with a row. “Have you eaten?”
“No.” He finally looks up, only to spear me with a sardonic look. “Your leftover Chinese with your ‘help yourself’ post-it really wasn’t what I was hoping for after a long hard day.”
I tilt my head to one side. “Oh, so what did you make yourself instead?” I hold his eye contact, daring him to continue.
I know what’s coming.
“Oh, don’t start with one of your feminist diatribes.
I’m just not in the mood,” he mutters, throwing his marking to one side and shaking his head at me.
“I can’t see how it’s sexist or unreasonable to hope that someone who doesn’t work the same long hours I do could be considerate enough to leave something a bit more substantial and appealing than the cold, congealed dregs of the takeaway she couldn’t finish last night. ”
“Excuse you?” I bite back. “You choose to work those long hours, and you know every other Tuesday is my gaming night with my friends. One evening every other week you have to fend for yourself. I deliberately didn’t finish that Szechuan chicken to make sure to leave you leftovers for this evening, but you’re perfectly capable of making your own dinner if that wasn’t good enough. ”
He huffs, sneering. “There’s thoughtfulness. My loving girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen.”
“What did you just say to me?” I ask in my ominously quiet voice, the one he knows means he’s pushing me too far.
It seems to cut through the pomposity, because he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry,” he says dully. “I’ve been really up against it lately.
Too many deadlines, that’s all. And, well.
..you used to leave me something like your amazing lasagna, and all I’d have to do was heat it through.
” He gives me a sad smile. “I miss that. Was kind of hoping for something like that tonight. But you haven’t done that for me in a while. ”
My heart clutches slightly. He’s not wrong. I guess I haven’t been going to as much effort as I used to lately. Mainly, if I’m brutally honest with myself, because his behaviour’s been driving me nuts and I haven’t felt like going the extra mile for him for months now.
Guilt hits me once again. This is getting completely bloody ridiculous. We need to sort this out sometime.
But tonight just isn’t that night.
I squirm uncomfortably. “I’ll make you something else. How about a Spanish omelette?”
“That’ll do. Thanks.” He offers me an approving smile, a faint shadow of the beaming Pete grin of old.
It makes me feel a little queasy as I wander through to the kitchen and realise that, although I felt a pang of envy watching Eli get down on one knee in front of Emily, I’m also relieved that it wasn’t Peter proposing to me tonight.
Leo
I’ve been looking at this from every angle as I drive home, and I still can’t tell if she was just putting on an act for her friends and pretending to be happy for them rather than envious, or if she genuinely didn’t mind. It’s driving me fucking crazy.
Peter was apparently internet shopping for engagement rings earlier in the year. Her birthday has been and gone. Why the bloody hell hasn’t he proposed?