Fourteen

Fourteen

31 days until the wedding

"Lane twelve got another ball stuck."

"Seriously?" my groan receives a sputtering laugh not only from my coworker, Josh, but also from the woman that he's helping at the counter. I normally would begin laughing myself, but since this is my third rescue of the day, I continue to grumble incoherently to myself instead.

Every once and a while the bowling balls like to rebel, but since today's rebellion stems from a two-lane birthday party that has been wreaking havoc for the past two hours, my own patience is now slowly rolling into the gutter.

Balance also isn't my strong suit, and it's as if the world wants to remind me of that fact when my foot slips off the plastic buffer and slams on the extra shiny wood that makes up the lane. The extra shine makes the lane extra slippery, and it steals my sneaker covered foot for an extra second before I'm back to balance beaming my way to the end of the lane. I disappear behind the cubby that holds the pins and grumble out a random number of baked goods when I abruptly hit my head.

I so desperately want to be bitter. It would be easy to go into auto pilot and wish away the rest of the day, but that would also be a waste. Especially, when I'm instantly greeted by cheers when I return. I hop off the end of the plastic buffer and give the twenty kids a little bow. My smile is genuine even though the few high-fives I'm coaxed into giving are halfhearted, but the notion is only solidified when the parents in charge of the little gremlins send a mouthed "thank you" my way.

Their game starts up again as I walk away, and I only shake my head when the kids cheering ensues at an even higher octave. I make my way back behind the counter and swiftly begin helping the influx of people that emerged in my absence. The clouds outside must be the reason for the popularity of the bowling alley today, but I'll admit, I prefer the movies.

Another hour rolls by with a revolving door of customers, and just as I hand off another pair of shoes my left butt cheek starts vibrating.

It's against the rules to use your phone at work, but my boss wasn't born yesterday, and he knows that on slow days the world isn't going to end if someone wants to check one of their social media pages. I prefer to keep my phone in my bag because it's refreshing to not constantly check it for nonsense. It's nice to live in the real world for a few hours, and it's only a boost that I'm getting paid for it.

But today is different.

Today, my cell phone has remained in my back pocket and everything up until now has only been a temporary distraction.

This phone call holds all the potential for today.

"I'll be right back," I tell Josh as my legs carry me out from behind the counter and my hand plucks out my phone.

"What?" The word is laced in the distress I internally feel, and has me quickly glancing back up to meet Josh's wide eyes.

"Just two minutes." I hold up the number with my fingers while his expression darts between me, the seemingly never-ending line of customers, and the large pile of shoes on the other side. "Two minutes!" I shout as I continue to take large steps backwards, but that's when his wide eyes land on me again. The sheer terror on his face only makes me laugh, but since I know how he feels, I continue to reassure him. "I'll be right back, I promise. I just really have to take this." I scurry outside as my finger finally presses the button to answer the call. "Hello?" I curse myself for sounding breathless, but that's when I realize just how fast my chest is moving up and down.

"Ms. James?"

"This is she." I've luckily calmed my breathing by taking in a few slow inhales, but the rapid pace of my heart still won't let up. I just hope whoever's on the other line can't here it.

We exchange pleasantries, but I'm barely listening because I already know who they are, and why they are calling. The words are only redundant until the woman on the other end finally starts saying the words I've been waiting to hear

"I'm calling to inform you that it was a hard decision, but we've decided to go with someone else."

My body sags against the wall behind me and everything goes quiet again. I'm still breathing and my hearts still beating, but it's no longer an incessant pound. Everything is still except my mouth. It opens and closes as I debate letting the two premediated words fall out, but instead I close it.

"Okay," I finally respond as if my pride wasn't just smashed to pieces. "Thanks for letting me know."

I don't wait for a response. I just end the call.

A few months ago, I would've chided myself for sounding so rude. For letting one little phone call dictate my mood.

But today is different.

Today, I've officially run out of "I understands"

Today, I've officially run out of options.

****

For once I'm happy I had an early shift because it means I can go home at the end of the afternoon and have the rest of the evening to myself. That's my plan as I walk through my front door and routinely head to the bathroom. After doing my business and scrubbing extra hard at the bowling alley germs on my hands, I head back out of the bathroom only to do a double take at the sight of my sister.

"Aubrey," I gasp when my brain registers that I initially didn't notice her presence.

"Hey, Avery." She greets me without looking away from the television screen.

"What are you doing here?" I hesitantly ask the question because this is our parent's house, and Aubrey has every right to be here. My surprise only stems from the fact that nobody else is home to promote her random visit.

"Ben went golfing with Dad and I got out of work early, so I decided to wait for them here instead of at my apartment."

"Okay..." Once again, my tone is questioning, but now it's only because her eyes still haven't strayed from the television screen.

My eyes continue to move around her form, but a smile immediately tugs at my lips when a bang from the screen makes her jump back and drop the piece of popcorn that barely had a chance of making it into her mouth.

For a split second, I can fool myself into thinking teenage Aubrey is currently sitting there on the couch. Dressed in sweatpants I'm sure she's had since high school with a small bun on top of her head, and the television screens reflection in the corner of the big glasses she wouldn't dare wear in public.

"Oh, actually"—my sister starts as she reaches for the remote—"it's good that you're here."

I hold back the sarcasm that immediately wants to tumble past my lips. The sentence 'I live here' burns on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back. Aubrey, on the other hand, turns off the T.V. without missing a beat, and places the large popcorn bowl in her lap on the coffee table. She twists her body so she's facing me and just like that the allusion is gone. Adult Aubrey stares back at me with those dark brown eyes we inherently share.

"I wanted to ask you something." Her shoulders lift as she crosses her legs, but now, like the T.V., her gaze doesn't stray from mine, and the thought only makes me laugh.

"Glad you waited until I wasn't naked this time."

I receive a sputtering laugh for the second time today, and it erases whatever tension coiled around my sister's spine. "When are you going to let that go?" Her amusement sags her posture while I drop my purse onto the one-person couch in front of me.

"When you stop teasing me about my pasty white butt!" I plop down in front of my bag while my sister throws her head back on another laugh.

"But it's true!" My sister starts making grabby hands at me. "Your butts just so little and squishy and white and—"

"Please, stop!" I hold my hand up, but this time we both laugh.

"Okay, okay." Aubrey takes a second to push her glasses back up her nose before piercing me with her eyes once more. "I wanted to know what your plans are for my bachelorette party."

My muscles stiffen despite the lazy position they are in as my brain scrambles for something to say, but before I can even open my mouth my sister is laughing again.

"Your face!" She wheezes out before she's laughing so hard that she's doubling over.

"I'm sorry," I eventually blurt out. "I swear I've thought about it, but I just haven't—"

"It's okay." My sister cuts me off with a wave of her hand. She lets out a few more chuckles before straightening back up and facing me with her smile. "I'm only asking because I decided I don't want one, but I didn't want to make you feel bad if you already planned something."

"Oh." My lips form the word.

"Well, you know how I've always thought the bridal shower was more important, and we're not really into drinking and stuff, and..." My sister continues to justify her point even though she doesn't have to. I get it.

That's why I also stop listening as I stand up from the couch because, after working all day in jean capris and one of my work polos, my brain reminds me of my desire to go upstairs and change my clothes to mimic Aubrey's comfy attire.

I'm not purposely ignoring Aubrey. My worn-out brain has only turned on its selective hearing and is masking it with a couple nods. Since we are nearing the end of the summer, small wedding blips, and a change of plans is nothing new, even though annoyance still courses through my veins when given the news. I can live with the unexpected, but not with the "you were expected to know, but we forgot to tell you" unexpected.

"So, I already checked with Sasha and Brenna, and we decided next Saturday would work since they both have off from work."

I freeze just a few steps away from the stairs upon hearing Aubrey's words. As if noting my soon departure from the conversation, my sister reaches for the television remote.

"Next Saturday?" I clarify, and with the remote now in her grasp, Aubrey sends me a smile and a nod over her shoulder. I take the few steps back over to the one-person couch and begin digging through my bag for my phone. "Do you know what the date is?" I finally ask when my phone seems trapped in the abyss that is the large teal bag.

"Um..." My sister drags out the word before swiping up her own phone from the coffee table. "I'm not sure."

Once my phone finally appears, I check the calendar. "I'm actually working that day."

"That's okay." My sister waves her arm in my peripheral vision. "You can just take off."

I glance back over at her only to watch as she raises her arm up, positioning the television remote in the right position to turn the T.V. back on, but before she can even press down on the button, my lips part.

"No, I can't."

Aubrey's arm falls back down as her eyes fall on mine again, and she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose once more. "You're always there for them, and you've been working there forever. I think they can give you at least one day off."

"You're right, but"—I pause, but still can't bring myself to accept her idea— "I've already been on the schedule that day for weeks. I can't bail on them now."

She raises her arm again, but this time in a dramatic wave of question. "Don't you always say that all the younger people bail all the time?"

My eyebrows furrow. "Yes, but—"

"So, you should be allowed to."

The bewilderment still doesn't leave my face. "But I'm not like that. I'm not that kind of person."

My sister's attention falls back down on her phone after it chimes in her lap. "One day is not going to kill you."

"Aubrey." I pause in hopes to regain her attention, but since she only continues to tap away at the text message I can see in the reflection of her glasses, I continue. "Can't we do it this week Saturday? Or in three weeks? Or if you want to do it soon, then maybe one day during the week after you guys get home from work?" I may not of heard her entire ramble, but I did hear that she just wants to have a casual spa day sort of thing. "I just can't bail next week," I add, "because my boss actually has an important family thing to go to that day, and specifically asked me to cover so he doesn't have to worry."

"No one else has off any other day." Aubrey doesn't even look up as she responds to the only part of my ramble she chose to hear. I want to yell at her for it, but I can't since I did the same thing only minutes before. However, I only hear what I want to hear when I have a case of tired brain. Everyone else seems to do it every time I open my mouth.

"Just because I don't work in a tall building with a fancy office doesn't mean it's not work."

Aubrey's eyes snap back up to mine. "I never said that."

"Then why didn't you ask me about my schedule when you were making these plans?"

My sister's face contorts in confusion as she tosses both her arms out to the side in question. "Why are you turning this into an argument?"

"I'm not—" I seethe before clamping my lips shut and tossing my phone aside. I quickly dig my fingers into my scalp and attempt to run them through my hair, but I drop my hands back down on an exhale. "I'm not trying to. I just think it's a little unfair that you assumed I'd take off."

My sister's lips form a thin line before she tugs at the big sleeves of her t-shirt. "I just thought it'd be easier for you."

My mouth drops before I can stop it, but when my sister only raises her brow at me, I throw my hand out and let it dramatically slap against my leg. "There you go again, not taking my job seriously."

My sister's eyes roll back along with her head. "You work in a bowling alley for crying out loud." A gasp escapes me, but my sister lifts her head back up at the same time she lifts her finger. "The same bowling alley that you've been working at since you were sixteen."

"It's still a job," I huff like a pouty little kid.

"Yeah," my sister huffs back before flicking away a strand of hair that fell from her bun. "It's the only job you've ever had."

A cold laugh escapes me. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not you. With your perfect job paired with your perfect degree, living in your perfect apartment with your perfect boyfriend." I stop flinging my hands around for a second to meet her gaze once more. "Or should I say fiancé."

Her face scrunches up again, making her glasses slide off her face for a second, but she quickly fixes both them and her posture. "What's that suppose to mean?"

Another growl like gasp escapes me before I'm flinging my hands up once more. "It means that, in this so-called game of life, you've always stepped on the green, never hitting any stop signs, while no one's ever even passed me the dice!"

My sister's legs untangle from the pretzel position they are in, and her sock covered feet fall on the ground. "Are you seriously comparing our lives to a board game right now?"

"Yes!" I hiss. "Because it's true!"

My sister springs up from the couch. "Well, if you are so unhappy with your life, then why don't you do something about it? Start by getting a real job!"

"I've been trying!" I'm panting for breath, but my shouting never ceases. "All summer I've been applying to places and going to interviews, but you know there's always some problem with the florist, or the venue, or even just a problem with Aubrey, and there's no longer a car for Avery to take, or even a person left to take her!"

My words continue to hang in the air for what feels like an eternity. A small part of me wishes to take them back, but a larger part of me is relieved to finally have them out in the open. I've never been one to rush life, but I've been silently brewing with ideas of change, time, graduation, adulthood, and the future these last couple of months. I've never been one to want pity, or to be a burden, but holding all the rejection in has taken a toll on me, my sanity, and the way I see myself. Although I'd do anything to avoid becoming an official adult, I just wanted someone to notice that I've been trying.

Yet, at the same time, I wanted to do it all on my own. I wanted to prove to myself that I could. That's why my anger is only fleeting. It's a defense to my wounded pride. An outlet for all my pent-up annoyance. Some of what I said is true, but I don't live my life based on my anger's logic. My hopeful rationale is what always gets me through. It's what keeps me going. It's what keeps me sane. It's what keeps me thankful for what I have, and it reminds me that time always has a way of working out. And I know that if it's not working out now, then it's not my time.

"This isn't even about you." I finally say as exhaustion weighs me down again, and has the sadness over everything, and the way everything spilled out, bubbling in my throat. "I'm not even mad at you, or the wedding, or anyone. I just... I just wish time would stop moving so fast. I've always wished time would just—"

My sister's scoff stops any other word from falling past my lips. She leaves me with just that puff of air before she flops back down on the couch. "I'm sorry the world is too real for you. That it's not all sunshine and rainbows. That you're an adult with actual responsibilities."

The air gets caught in my lungs for an extra second. It's not like when we were younger, and we'd physically knock the wind out of each other. Whether we'd push each other on the couch, kick each other in the stomach, or even punch each other in the boob.

This is different.

It's not that I got hurt and now I can't breathe.

I can't breathe because it hurts.

Her words pierce every inch of my skin, scrape against my bones, and burn inside my veins. They shatter the last of my rationale and diminish what was left of my hope.

The air in the room is suddenly cold. Too cold to breathe in and too cold to breathe out. Too cold compared to the humidity hanging in the air outside, and too cold compared to the sweat that slicked my skin earlier today at work.

When I finally try to take in a small breath through my nose, my chest stutters on the inhale, barely able to hold the heavy lump that is still beating around in there. My eyes sting as the words continue to echo within my mind, but my gaze remains on the slumped figure of a person I can't even bring myself to recognize.

"Is that really what you think of me?" The question is covered in the tears that begin rolling down my cheeks.

My sister lifts her head, and although she looks like a blurry mess, I know she's staring directly at me. I know she's staring directly at the hurt that's written all over my face. I continue to stand there, purposely, letting everything that was said sink in before finally swiping my purse off the couch and running up to my room. The slam of my door is the only sound that echoes throughout the house, and it echoes in my head until I pathetically, but wholeheartedly cry myself to sleep.