Chapter 7
She didn't ask if I wanted to leave the ballroom. She just put her hand under my elbow and said, "Come on."
The standing bridesmaid — Jenna, light brown hair pinned up, that light blue one-shoulder dress — had been holding the back of my chair since the glass broke. When she moved, I had to move. My knees had locked from standing there trying not to sway, and every slow step toward the double doors felt like I had to remember how to breathe first and then step.
The hallway was cooler. The chandeliers out there were dimmer, and the carpet swallowed sound. I could hear my own breathing finally, labored and thin, like I couldn't get the bottom half of air. Jenna matched my pace and didn't pull. Her grip stayed light on my arm, just enough to steady me if I tipped.
"Slow," she whispered. "We've got time."
I nodded. The bandana had slipped when I'd jerked forward. I felt it sitting crooked, the edge damp against my temple.
We passed the gift table and the sign with the seating chart. No one followed us. I could still hear the DJ's microphone crackling in the ballroom behind us, and then the doors thudded shut.
Jenna pushed open the restroom door and checked it first. Empty. White tile, soft yellow lights, a vase of white flowers on the counter that matched the ones inside. She locked the outer door.
"You can sit," she said, and pulled over the small upholstered bench from beside the vanity. "Just for a minute."
I sat. The relief hit so fast my eyes watered. I put my hands on my knees and focused on breathing out longer than I breathed in, the way the nurse had shown me.
Jenna crouched beside me so we were at the same height. Her dress rustled. She didn't look in the mirror, she looked at me.
"I have to tell you something," she said. Her voice was quiet and fast, like she'd been holding it. "Before the ceremony, she pulled me aside. She said if I kept hovering, she'd cut me from the formal photos."
I looked at her. She swallowed.
"She said it would ruin the line," Jenna said. "That you were making it about you by sitting down and I was making it worse by helping. She said I needed to choose."
The air conditioner kicked on over us. I watched her hands — her nails were painted the same pale blue as our dresses, and she was picking at her thumbnail.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have told you right then. I kept holding the chair anyway, but I kept thinking she'd actually do it."
I reached for her hand. My own hand was pale and a little shaky.
"You stayed," I said. My voice sounded rough.
She nodded and squeezed. "I stayed."
I pushed myself up slowly and went to the sink. The mirror was wide and bright. I saw what the guests had been seeing all night.
My complexion was gray-white under the lights. The light blue strapless dress hung loose where I'd lost weight, and the bandana — light blue, patterned, tied to cover my head — had slid back so the edge of bare skin showed at my forehead. It was crooked and damp at the corner where I'd sweated. I tried to straighten it, but my fingers fumbled with the knot. Jenna stepped behind me.
"Let me," she said softly. She retied it with quick, careful hands, smoothing it so it sat even, not too tight. She met my eyes in the mirror.
"Better?" she asked.
I nodded. I looked like myself again, just tired. Just pale. Just a girl in a bridesmaid dress who needed a minute to breathe.
I turned the faucet on cold and pressed damp fingers to the back of my neck. The tile was cool on my back when I leaned against the counter.
Jenna leaned next to me. "We don't have to go back right away," she said. "We could just wait here till toasts are over. She wouldn't even notice."
Part of me wanted that. The bench. The locked door. Hiding felt safe, and safe felt like the only thing my body wanted. But I thought about the chair they took away, and the glass still on the floor in there, and the line Jenna was afraid of being cut from.
If I stayed hidden, she got to write the story — that I was too sick to be there, that I'd made a scene and left.
I took a breath that finally felt like it filled my lungs. Then another.
"I'm going back," I said. "But not to sit on the floor or stand where she tells me to. If she wants me in photos, I stand. If I need to sit, I sit. She can figure out the line."
Jenna let out a laugh that was mostly air. "Okay."
"And you don't get cut," I said. "If she says anything, we both step out of the picture. Together."
She looked at me for a second, then nodded hard. "Together."
I pushed off the counter. My legs still felt heavy, but the shaking had eased. Jenna unlocked the door and held it open, her hand finding my elbow again — not pulling, just there.
May you like
We walked back toward the ballroom doors. Each step was slower than normal, but steady now, my breathing even enough to count. I could hear the DJ starting to talk again on the other side.
I wasn't rested, not really. But I was ready to go back on my own terms.
