The Difference Between Getting and Needing

t w e n t y

a circus ain't a love story
and now we're both s o r r y . . .

〰️〰️〰️

Cyclone Sutton blew through my bedroom at approximately two minutes past nine o'clock on Friday morning. It was a nickname my family had given her when we realized how much power she held.

She was carefree and assertive, and that was a deadly combination. It meant she was eloquent, headstrong, and able to demolish anything in her path. Not literally, although she could if she wanted to.

I had survived and been washed up in the remains of Cyclone Sutton before. It was never pleasant. While she'd get her way with whatever it was she wanted, the rest of us as casualties were left to salvage ourselves.

This time, I wasn't prepared for it.

She barged through the door and her mouth was already moving at the speed of light as she circled my room like a personified twister. I sprung up at the turbulent wake-up call, gasping for air and sweating bullets, staring wide-eyed at her in both shock and animosity.

"Oh, you're awake," she commented as she stopped pacing. "We're leaving in an hour for brunch."

"What?" I croaked, my body having not adjusted to being awake quite yet.

She stood in the middle of my room, a pink blur from what I could see through the sleepy film clouding my vision. Salmon-colored paper bag pants with a silky white blouse tucked into the waistband and porcelain pumps on her feet. Dewy skin, fluttery lashes, and a low loose bun with tendrils of golden hair framing her face came into view once my eyes registered her figure.

She looked more put together than I could ever dream of being in the morning. Perhaps more than I could ever dream of within the last month.

Sutton rolled her eyes and rested her freshly spray-tanned hands on her hips. "Brunch, remember?" She irritatingly articulated the first word. "We have the final dress fitting at noon but we're all going out to eat first. Don't tell me you forgot."

"I didn't forget," I said, then cleared my throat when I heard how gruff my voice was.

False. I forced myself to forget about it. The idea of spending the entire day with Sutton, my mother, and the bridal brigade made me want to tear my hair out.

It was just another thing on the pre-wedding checklist; nothing fancy in the slightest. It was the final dress fitting to make sure no one in the bridal party had severely gained or lost weight since the last time we'd tried our dresses on a few months prior. There was no reason for it to be turned into this elaborate function that my sister was making it out to be, but because it was all for her, I had no other choice but to get swept up in the storm.

"Alright, well, like..." Sutton trailed off, frantically waving her hands around like that was going to do anything. "Get ready."

"With what? Sutton, I've literally been wearing the same black jeans for the last two weeks straight," I spat, and she flinched. "I have leggings, this t-shirt I sleep in, the outfit I wore on Christmas, my leather jacket, and whatever clothes I left here when I moved out that definitely don't fit me anymore."

Pathetic, but true. Since I avoided going back to the apartment to get the rest of my belongings as much as I avoided questions about my breakup, what I listed was the extent of my closet. If being newly single didn't wreak enough havoc on my life, having no clothes certainly did that.

"That's why I came prepared," she told me as if I should have already known that, followed by another eye-roll. "I will help you. I have my curling iron, my makeup, and some spare clothes. I know we don't have the same style, but please let me do this for you. You need it."