The Wedding Dress
“Addie, is it true?” That was the first question Sofia asked me when I answered her Skype call.
“Is what true?” I asked, hoping she was alluding to something else.
“Some girl from my humanities class just came up to me and told me you were marrying Daimon Evans. She said he does business with her dad and they received an invitation and that I was mentioned in the announcement in the New York Times,” Sofia rambled nervously. I watched as she chewed at her bottom lip waiting for me to answer.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. I should have told you sooner, but with all that has happened, well, it kind of slipped my mind.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say to her. What could I tell her? Daddy just got an operation and I had no money to pay for it? Or should I have told her I sold myself? What?
“Addie! Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t like him!” she cried out. That makes two of us.
“Sofia, I wouldn’t be marrying him if I thought he was a bad person. You have to give me credit for knowing what I want out of life,” I snapped at her, not realizing I was losing my temper. If she only knew she was one of the main reasons why I was marrying him.
“What else are you keeping from me?” she asked angrily.
“Why?” I asked, worried the girl from her humanities class might have told her more than I did.
“The diner and Dad? Tell me, Addie, is everything okay?” Sofia asked anxiously as she fidgeted in her seat.
God, this girl was too observant for her own good. Why couldn’t she be self-absorbed like most girls her age?
“Dad got worse, and well, he had to have an operation. Everything is okay, better than okay. He’s no longer sick. Sofia, you’ll be so happy when you see him. He even gained weight.” I attempted throwing as much information at her before she completely lost me.
“What do you mean, Dad had an operation?” she began to cry, her eyes widened and lips quivered. Not exactly the response I wanted.
“Dad collapsed a while back, and well, the doctors said he needed the operation desperately. Once he got the operation, he became a million times better,” I smiled, trying to reassure her. Ever since Sofia left for school, I tried keeping most of it from her, wanting her to focus on herself and her studies.
“The diner?” She sniffled a little.
“I had to sell it. I needed to pay for Dad’s operation,” I lied. Sofia’s mind was at work; she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and straightened up.
“But the diner was in debt. How could you—? Never mind, are you seriously marrying Daimon next week?” she asked again. Sofia wasn’t the least bit pleased by anything I’d told her. I loved my little sister to death, but she drove me crazy with her constant questions, but like me after our mother’s death, we changed. The way Sofia dealt with things was with direct questions or complete avoidance. If she didn’t like the answers, she avoided it vehemently.
“Yes and you have to be there. Daimon said he’d drive you in and out so you won’t be missing school,” I smiled. Yale wasn’t far and I would need her to be here with me.
“Just be happy for me, please?” I wanted her probing to stop. I was worried if she pushed any further, I might just tell her everything. “Dad’s here. Do you want to speak to him?” I knew she’d want to see him, and it was a perfect excuse to get away from her and this conversation.
“Yeah, I want to see him,” she replied, choked up.
I smiled and called out for my father. He waved the moment he saw her and started asking about Yale, but Sofia wasn’t having any of that; she wanted to know how he was doing. He pointed at his belly and smiled. “Don’t I look great? I'm finally fat.” He smiled and I laughed.
My phone chimed. I picked it up but didn’t recognize the number. Opening the text message, the sender introduced herself as Jessica; apparently, my wedding planner. She asked to speak to me as soon as possible. I looked nervously at my phone not fully knowing the whirlwind events that were just waiting for me on the other side. I left my room and the conversation that my father and Sofia were having and let out a heavy sigh. Pressing the number attached to the message, it rang out.
“Yes, Ms. Sakis, this is Jessica Somer. I’m your wedding planner extraordinaire,” she gushed. She sounded like a take charge type of person.
“Yes, how are you?” I asked shyly, wanting nothing more than to run and hide away from the call and all it entailed.
“Well, at the present time, pretty swamped by your wedding details. Mr. Evans is pretty demanding and very specific. He said this wedding must be exactly the way you want. He instructed all that matters is you being happy and that money isn’t an issue.” Jessica sounded out of breath; I could hear her shuffling papers from the other side of the phone.