The Jackass boys will be in the next chapter, I promise. Also, the end, I know, seems awkward and forced, but it'll be explained later.
All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out
faces. Bright and early for the daily races, going nowhere,
going nowhere.
I wake up to the smell of weed flooding my room. I didn't have a bedroom door, just a long hallway and a turn. The other basement bedroom was the same, and it belonged to my twin brother. And before you get any ideas in your head, we're not the classic movie pair, best friends who could read each other's minds. We hated each other. Putting us both in the basement was an attempt by my mother to get us to love each other, get along like Tatiana and I usually do. But he was annoying, popular, and had dad's dark hair that never looked unwashed, even if it went so for a week. He acted more like a six year old than a nineteen year old. I lived at home because I was going to college – he lived at home because he would be on the streets otherwise.
"Alexei!" I yelled, rolling off my mattress onto the floor – a drop of about six inches. "You're not allowed to smoke in here, you retard!"
"Fuck you!" was his brilliantly articulated reply.
I take my time getting dressed, even putting together a few outfits, mixing and matching, trying to look good. Usually I'd just throw something on, whether it matched or not, or if my jeans were two sizes too big or my shirt rode up when I lifted my arms. But I was trying my hardest to hold onto the dream I'd been woken up from, and dressing like a hurricane wasn't going to help.
It'd been my wedding I was dreaming of. My hair had been soft and silky, curled into ringlets, and my makeup made me look like a beauty queen. I'd been taller, my skin tanned, and my dress had been even better than Tatiana's, though I couldn't remember why. I hadn't gotten a glimpse of my groom, but when he kissed me, it was like fireworks. I'd felt the tingling through my body when I woke up in the middle of it – although, that could also have been the pot smoke.
My black and blue Samsung Infinity – a total piece of shit – violently vibrated on the TV tray beside my bed. I had my text reminder on, set to every two minutes. No wonder I'd woken up. It sounded like the devil.
The text message was from Tatiana. 'I'll be over in twenty minutes, so get up and get dressed. We're gonna find you a dress if it kills us.' Seeing as the text was received thirty minutes ago, I figured I'd better pick up the pace. I was surprised that she hadn't come downstairs to wake me up earlier. Maybe she was late.
But, alas – as I came into the kitchen, a very angry looking Tatiana was sitting at the table, drinking tea out of one of mum's favourite pink, floral-patterned tea cups. It became apparent as I got closer though, that she wasn't mad at me, but at the e-mail she was reading on her iPhone.
"I can't believe this," she said, not even bothering to say hello.
"What?" I asked, pulling a bowl out of the cupboard and filling it with Nesquik cereal and milk.
"Auntie Olga says that Michaela, Ariana, and Maria can't make it. Apparently they just can't miss that much school!"
Last week Tatiana and Johnny had decided to have their wedding in one month – October. They were keeping details secret, but mum told me that it was going to be bigger, better, and more expensive than the Queen's.
"That's not fair," I said, not only because that's what my sister wanted to hear, but because it was true. They'd only be missing two or three days, and it was for a wedding, for God's sake. "Auntie Olga is probably just pissed because Uncle Thomas is leaving her."
"Is he?" she asked, surprised. "No one told me. That's still no reason to punish me or the girls. They were so excited."
"I'm sure she'll come around," I said between mouthfuls. "It's not for a month, after all, and Ariana whines like a champion."
That made Tatiana smile. "Hurry up and do your hair and make-up, so we can get going, 'kay?"
The tears are filling up their glasses, no expression, no
expression. Hide my head; I want to drown my sorrow,
no tomorrow, no tomorrow.
Tatiana was talkative the entire half-hour drive to the bridal store. It was new, just opened a few weeks ago, and apparently had some pretty great styles, according to Tatiana's self-proclaimed best friend (who was "still waiting for her invite, and getting a little worried that it might have gotten lost in the mail!"). She told me things about Johnny, about his friends and their movies and TV show (I'd never seen either, but they sounded really stupid); she talked about things we did together when we were little, names for babies she liked, and how many kids she was hoping for. She also told me about her sex life – way more information than I needed – and asked me about mine.
"I don't even have a love life, Tati," I said, grinning. I don't know why, but I found it almost amusing. My lack of any sort of romance had never really bothered me, even though I wouldn't mind having one. It'd been five years since my last boyfriend, and no interest since – but who could blame them? I wasn't really a catch.
"Well that will change," Tatiana said positively. "Once everyone sees what a knockout you are at the wedding, you'll have boys calling at all hours of the day."
I didn't want to disagree with her and sound like I was compliment fishing or something, so I just laughed. Thankfully, it was around the same time that we pulled up in front of Dresden Dresses.
"They better be from Germany, or this store name is really bloody stupid," I said. Tatiana either didn't hear me or didn't agree, because she led the way into the shop without a word.
I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw as I walked in behind my sister. The store was huge inside, with a very open floor, lit with smooth, yellow light. Dresses lined the walls and circular, spinning racks spaced apart enough that you weren't crammed up trying to look at something. The dresses were cute, too, all different cuts, colours, styles – not one old fashioned or ugly.
I was too busy looking at the dresses to see what Tatiana was doing, until she cleared her throat for my attention. I looked up to her, hand in hand with a tall, tanned man in Aviator shades, Chucks, and a faded gas station tee shirt.
"Stasia, this is Johnny." Then to him, "Johnny, this is my little sister Anastasia."
"Tatiana said you were pretty, but – wow," he said, grinning. I shook his hand, looking at my sister's face, which was almost splitting from her smile. I was far from flattered, but I appreciated his effort. I knew he just wanted to make my sister happy, because no one in their right mind thought I was attractive, especially in comparison to Tatiana Israel Rasputin.
Soon to be Tatiana Israel Clapp. I felt my stomach turn unexpectedly.
"I'm gonna go look over there," I said, pointing behind me then following suit. I'd pointed, miraculously, to the petite section, which were pretty much the only dress sizes that were close to fitting me.
"Okay," Tatiana called after me, a little put off. "Call me over if you find something!"
And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams
in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. I find it hard to
tell you, I find it hard to take, when people run in circles it's a
very, very mad world.
I recognized Tatiana's husband. I knew the name had sounded familiar – Johnny Knoxville. Who didn't know that name? He'd been in The Ringer, in the remake of Dukes of Hazard, both of which Tatiana, Alexei and I had gone to see at the theatre. How did she even end up meeting him? How do you just casually meet a guy like that?
I was having trouble concentrating on dresses, so when Tatiana called me over, I went immediately, hoping that she'd found something for me. Johnny wasn't with her.
"He went back home, but we're invited over after we find you a dress. He says he has a surprise – for both of us."
"Weird," I muttered, but I don't think she heard me. With a flourish, she was pulling a dress off a rack.
"Isn't it the cutest? Go try it on!"
I didn't see much of it as she shoved it into my hands, but I examined it on my body in the dressing room. It was similar to her wedding dress in design, tight at the top, loosening at the hips, but this one covered only a few inches of thigh. It fit me perfectly, even in the chest. It was stunningly white, whiter than the bridesmaids', with a thin blue trim line around the top. The bit that got me was the bottom, though. On the white netting, overtop the silky-feeling material (it wasn't silk, but I had no idea what it really was) were a few pale blue, delicate flower designs twisting through the netting.
It struck a chord in my memory, but I had no clue where from. I did know, however, that I had to have it. Even though, according to the price tag I checked when I took it off, it was almost as much as Tatiana's wedding dress.
"It's perfect," I told her, handing it back to her.
"I know, right?" She sounded so excited. "Come on, I have mum's MasterCard."
It wasn't until we were in the car on the way to Johnny's house that I realized I had seen the dress before. It was the same dress that, five years ago, our little sister Calina had been buried in.
I wondered if Tatiana remembered too.
Children waiting for the day they feel good, happy birthday,
happy birthday. And I feel the way that every child should,
sit and listen, sit and listen.