Ambivalence

Something Borrowed and Blue

Camila

"Why! Why am I like this?" I cried, trying to wiggle myself out of the damn dress. The zipper was broken, and it was not budging for anything. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I sighed. "You're an idiot, Mila," I whispered as my phone rang. "Lauren, this isn't a good time," I answered.

"If you ever beg me for my book, or any of my wine again—"

"Wait!" I tried to move to my door, but I tripped slightly on the hem of my dress, knocking my desk over.

"What are you doing?"

Lifting it up at the bottom, I quickly walked out of my bedroom. "Just put the book and bottle by the door—"

"You want me to what?"

Urgh. "I'm having a moment. Just put—"

"Are you crying?"

"No, I'm not crying!"

"Karla—"

Annoyed, and without thinking, I pulled open the door. "Lauren, I'm not crying."

Her emerald-green eyes wandered down the strapless mermaid wedding dress I wore, then back up to my face.

I wanted to slam the door in her face I was so embarrassed, but I knew that would only make it ten times worse.

"Go ahead, laugh." I sighed, waiting in the doorway as Thunder went up to Lauren, placing both paws on her legs.

"I don't see anything funny," she replied, handing me the wine bottle and medical textbook I'd asked for before stroking thunder's head.

"I would prefer if you laughed." It would make me feel less pathetic. "Thanks for these, I'll return the book tomorrow."

I was about to call Thunder back inside when I remembered. "We're friends, right?" I asked, though it felt odd for me to call him just a friend.

She looked up from Thunder. "I guess."

"So we can help each other without judging, right?"

 "Just spit it out girl."

"This is so embarrassing..."

"Karla, you are standing in front of me in a wedding dress. What could possibly be more embarrassing for you?"

She just had to ask.

"I can't get it off."

"You what?" she asked slowly.

"The wedding dress. The stupid wedding dress won't come off, and it's getting harder for me to breathe!" I placed a hand on my stomach. The goddamn thing was like an anaconda wrapping tighter every time I took a breath.

She covered her mouth to stifle a chuckle, but she couldn't take it and laughed outright.

"I am sorry for laughing but you are hilarious"

"I thought you said it wasn't funny!"

"It wasn't, until you told me you were stuck in it! How does that happen?"

"I gained a little weight, okay..." For some reason, she stopped laughed, the better I felt. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Nodding, she came in along with Thunder and put the things she'd brought on the kitchen counter before closing the door.

I turned around, brushing my hair to the side. I jumped slightly when her hand brushed back.

"You okay?"

"Your hands were cold. I'm fine. Is it coming down?" I asked, feeling her tug harder.

"This is really stuck." She braced a hand on my waist, trying to pull the zipper down. The dress had to be cursed because I didn't feel it getting any looser.

"Can't you just rip it?"

"With my hands? Are you serious right now?" She paused in her attempts.

I grinned, trying to hold in my stomach. "What, you aren't strong enough?"

"If any person rip a wedding dress off you, please consult a physician before continuing your relationship." Her hand shifted onto my shoulder, and once again she tried. "Karla, I don't know what to say to you, but this thing isn't coming off."

Lightheaded, I had to brace myself against the kitchen table.

"Karla!"

"I'm fine, just felt dizzy for a second—"

"You're turning blue, you are not fine. Hold on." she let go of me and reached toward my knife set, taking the scissors.

"What are you doing—"

"What does it look like? I'm cutting you out of it."

"No—"

Ripppppp.

I took a deep breath, holding the dress up and turning around to face her. "You cut it."

"Can you breathe now?"

I nodded, but looked back down at the gown. "You cut it," I repeated, almost in shock.

"Didn't you just ask me to rip it?"

"I knew you couldn't... Thanks?" I wasn't sure what else to say.

"You're welcome." she put the scissors back and headed to the door.

"Wait."

"What now? Are you stuck in your bra . I can rip that?"

I clutched the dress back up to go to my bedroom. "No you idiot, I just need to ask you a few questions about the hospital real quick. Give me a minute."

After running back into my room, I let the dress fall to the floor after I closed the door, donning jeans and a basic t-shirt before coming back out. When I did, she was already opening the bottle of wine.

"No!" I rushed out, but it was too late.

She poured both of us a glass.

"What? Did you want to drink the whole thing yourself?" Her eyebrow went up and she held out the glass for me to take.

"No, Ari's wedding is tomorrow and I was going to give it as a gift." I sighed, taking the glass from her.

"You didn't think of anything else?" She followed me into my living room, taking a seat with me on the floor near the window again.

"I did, but Ari or Mrs. Ariana  soon to be , might not like it. I was thinking of something more sophisticated, so I was going to give the wine to Nathaniel, and give her some earrings," I said, handing her a pillow.

she placed it behind her back as she drank. "Do you mean Nathaniel Van Allan?"

"You know him?"

"New York's elite only mingle with one another. My mother's been 'friends' with Mrs. Van Allan for years. We were both invited, but she just said she would go on her own."

The way she said friends made me wonder how she, from one of the elite families, could be so down-to-earth and relaxed. Yes, she always dressed well, and yes, she owned expensive things, but she never came off as being a snob, at least not anymore. Even in the beginning, when I'd seen her as Dr. Asshole, I still understood that she was acting that way because she was angry and hurt. she genuinely did care about others; I could see it the day I was at the hospital.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

I shrugged, drinking before speaking. "I was just thinking that you aren't like them. You don't care what other people think. Shawn—he..."

"You can say his name, Karla. He isn't Voldemort."

I giggled. "Well, Shawn cared a lot. He wanted everything to be...high class. When I was dating him, I knew he liked finer things, and he liked to show off his body, his abs  or  how well he was doing. That he wasn't 'just a trust fund baby'. I felt awkward and a little put on display sometimes, but the good outweighed the bad."

Or at least, I had thought it did.

"Was he the one who picked out that dress for you?" She gazed at the city outside the window.

"How did you—"

"A tight, sparkling-with-crystals wedding dress does not seem to fit your style at all."

Even though I agreed she was right, I was a little annoyed. "He didn't really pick it out. He knew the owner of the bridal store I went into and had them bring out the very best and most expensive dresses. We had gone to other weddings before, and I knew which dresses he thought were ugly. I tried to pick one I knew he would like...wow, that sounds awful. But I can be girly, too."

"Never said you couldn't. It isn't awful, just meant you really wanted to look nice for him. There isn't anything wrong with that."

"I'm glad you cut me out of it." I smiled into the glass. "I would have held onto it like it meant something. I should have thrown it out weeks ago, or at least sold it to someone else, but with Ari's wedding tomorrow, I just...I don't know. I just wanted to wear it one more time." I was sure there was someone out there that would have fallen in love with it.

"The answer to your non-question about me not being like them is: my father," he replied.

It took me a second to remember where the conversation had started.

"I don't care what they think because they don't matter to me. When my father died, I learned how superficial a lot of them were. Sure, they came to the funeral, held my mom's hand and whatnot, but I remember someone asking, Who is he again? What did he do? Where did he live? A few months later, some of the wives even tried to set my mother up. I guess to them, she should have moved on already. I just...I just wanted to hear stories of my father from them. Things they remembered as friends. But then I realized they never did anything more than go to the same parties. It was only the patients he helped that talked on and on about him. I think that's one of the reasons I wanted to become a doctor so badly."

"If your father saw you..." I started.

She turned to face me.

"If he saw you the way I did when I came to the hospital, I bet he would be more than proud. For a second, even I was like, 'Wow, so this is what she does every day.' I thought I wanted to do it, too. This coming from the girl who failed chemistry three ways to Sunday."

She snickered. "Really? I thought I was only 'kinda cool'."

"I scratched it out, didn't I?" Damn note.

She laughed, and so did I.

"So, your father was a surgeon. Your mother is a surgeon and chairwoman of the hospital. You are a surgeon, and your brother's working on becoming one, too. I'm almost too intimidated."

She raised her head high.

 I rolled my eyes.

"What do your parents do?"

"My mother teaches African American & African Studies and history at the University of Alaska. She immigrated to California from south Africa when she was four and worked her way up the coast."

"And your father?"

"My father is an astronomer. He teaches at the university, too, but during campouts and bonfires, he becomes the chief Native American storyteller. He's half Inupiat, half English. So technically I'm part Native American, English, and South African."

She nodded her head, thinking for a moment. "I always tried to trace where our family came from, but as far as I can tell we've been in America for generations. I suddenly feel the urge to look into it more."

"You should."

"So both of your parents are scholars and you're the artist...the rebel. You don't have siblings?"

I wished she hadn't asked that. Spinning the glass in my hands, I drank the rest of it before answering. "Not anymore."

Thankfully, she didn't pry.

Lauren

Taking off my shoes when I got back into my apartment, I fell back on my couch. I couldn't stop wondering...I wanted to know more, but I knew I couldn't press, not when she was trying so hard to smile about something that was obviously hard. I was starting to realize she had two smiles: her genuine one she gave when she really was happy, and then the other one, her shield. If she felt hurt or upset, she smiled and tried to push it away.

She looked so beautiful in that wedding dress—what am I thinking?

"Obviously, I had too much wine," I muttered to myself.

"Where?"

Sitting up quickly, I watched my little brother come out of my bedroom wearing dad's shirt, even though the sleeves were too long.

He just rolled them up his arms.

"What are you doing here, and why are you wearing dad's t-shirt?"

"I spilled beer on mine," he replied, walking into my kitchen and grabbing my last beer. 

"First question, you still haven't answered it."

"Mom's having the Van Allan's over. You know I hate those people." He pushed my feet to the side and took a seat on the couch.

I hit him upside the head with a pillow.

"Hey!"

"Have you thought about getting your own place?"

He looked at me like I had lost it. "And leave Mom all alone in the house? Aren't you the one who told me to take my time leaving? Plus, I like it there."

Saying nothing, I shifted, placing my feet on the coffee table instead.

"So why were you drinking Dad's wine? You usually save that for special occasions." He lifted his legs up as well.

"Karla needed a bottle for the Van Allan wedding tomorrow. Apparently, she's friends with Nathaniel's bride. But we ended up drinking together, again." I took the controller, turning on the television.

He kept staring at me.

"What?"

"I'm just processing."

"You do that," I muttered, leaning back.

"Okay, so you drink Dad's wine with someone outside of the family not once, but twice? What is this thing I see between you two?"

"Friendship, that's it. The first time I was a jerk and trying to apologize, this time she asked. I thought it was the least I could do after she bought me shoes—"

"She bought you shoes? Ren, come on, don't lie—"

"We are just friends. We don't see each other in any other way than that. It would be odd if we did. We are the only two people who understand what it feels like, so we talk. Get your head out of the gutter."

He pursed his lips, drinking slowly.

"I mean it, Chris."

"I didn't say anything. I was just thinking how, when I was trying to be friends with her, you told her to stay away from me—"

"Just watch TV and shut up."

He did, but only for about two minutes. "So...does that mean you're coming to the wedding? She is going to be there."

"No. Why would her being there matter to me?"

He shrugged. "I mean, you aren't going because it will bring up memories, but she has to go. It sucks that she's going to have to go through that alone."

"She's a big girl, Chris, but if makes you feel better, you can dance with her if you'd like."

I am not going.