The Truth of the Matter - Chapter One
Summary: For Serena, life is perfect. With a "small" exception. However, life soon takes a turn for the better--at least that's what it looks like. But what will she do when it comes down to a choice between dangerous passion, and painful stability?
"Oh, my gosh." Mina fingers her beautiful wedding dress. I don't think beautiful even begins to describe it. A striking Vera Wang creation, the dress cost more than half my annual salary. But it is way, way worth it. Every time I look at it, I fall in love all over again. Its simplicity just brings out more of its spectacular design.
"You are so lucky," I say enviously, staring hungrily at the dress. We are in Mina's room, all unrecognizable with her wedding clothes, cosmetics, and other clutter scattered around it. I can't even see her bed, buried as it is under her clothes. Expensive, designer clothes, might I add. Ever since Mina started going out with Jamie Lastman, a rich volleyball champion, anything she wanted was at her fingertips. Luxurious trips to exotic places, weekend retreats at the spa, endless shopping sprees, all within her grasp. Can you blame me for being just a teensy bit envious when she gets the dream life while I struggle with my crappy one?
OK, so not entirely crappy. The one thing I would never want to change about my life right now would be my fabulous boyfriend, Michael. Sure, he's no millionaire with extraordinary athletic ability, but he's the kind of guy who you settle down with, and have a few kids. And what more could a girl want?
Mina runs toward the long mirror and bounces on the balls of her feet, striking various poses. She runs her long, manicured fingers through her golden mane and I consciously look at my own ragged nails with chipped nail polish. I have to buy polish remover on the way home. I make a mental note to stop at a drug store on the way.
"Wow, I'm so nervous," she admits, pausing half-turn and staring at her reflection. I shoot a sympathetic glance her way. I know how hard it is for Mina to admit something, since she always strives to achieve perfection. When we were in high school, our junior year, Mina told me how she, whenever nervous or edgy, stood in front of her full-length mirror and tried out different ways to sit, walk and stand to see which one made her look more graceful and slim. We have never spoken of that again, because I knew that Mina had trusted me with her insecurities, so in return I was there for her. In a quiet way, I guess.
I stand up from her antique chair and walk over to her. I look ahead into the mirror and see the two of us standing side by side; Mina, more beautiful and confident than ever; me, a pale comparison. I sigh and pout at the mirror, shifting my eyes to meet Mina's.
"Starting tomorrow, you, Mina Aiko, are going to be a married woman," I say seriously. Then my lips lift into a smile. "Be sure to tell me how it feels. So wherever you are in Rome, call me, OK?"
"All right, maybe I can break away for a few moments in between having passionate sex with Jamie." Mina's laughter fills the room.
I roll my eyes and retort, my voice glazed over with mock, "Stop. You're making me jealous."
Mina smiled and steps away so I can't see her in the mirror anymore. I turn around and catch her looking at the dress. She turns to face me and smiles. "Oh, please. You probably won't even think about me. I'm sure Michael will take care of that." She winks with hidden meaning, and I can't help but roll my eyes.
"We can't all have hungry warrior-types in bed, Mina, so the rest of us have to make due with what we have." Oops. Did I say that out loud? Shock paralyzes me as I see Mina's eyes widen to impossible size. Someone call a doctor, we have a seizure sighting. "No, no, I did not say that," I chant quietly, looking gazes with Mina. I promised to myself that I would never--not in a million years, not even with any sort of punishment, or torture, involved--tell a living soul about Michael's, um, in bed.
"Oh, you poor baby, was it really that bad?" She comes over and puts her arms around me. Her perfume invades my nostrils, but it's not overwhelming, Mina wears just the right amount.
I wiggle out of her embrace and look her in the eye, mentally wincing. "Not was, is." Having said that, I lower my lids and cut off any eye contact. Just in time, too, because I can picture Mina's reaction in my head.
"Wait a minute, Serena. You don't--no way, you mean..." she trails off, and I nod my head. She places her hands on my shoulder and I can tell she's trying to suppress shaking me. "How many times have you two had sex, exactly?"
I finally look up at her to find her thin, just-waxed-for-the-wedding left brow raised as high as it would go. Maybe it was not a thought I should be having at this time but I'm unbelievably glad Mina doesn't think she needs Botox injections to complete her already perfect appearance. I don't think I could talk to a face void of any expression.
"Serena?" she asks again and I become aware that I've been staring at her blonde eyebrow. Mina has known me long enough to be fully aware of all my quirks, such as spacing out, so when I do she does not yell in my ear (unlike some other less sympathetic people) but patiently brings me back to earth. Mina is too calm and collected to throw a fit over something as trivial as that. A trait I've come to love and hate over our long years as best friends.
"Uh-huh?" I say, dreading her next question. I break out of her hold and walk to the door. I know escape is futile since leaving today would only mean delaying the confrontation until tomorrow. I can hear Mina tapping her leather boots against the plush white carpet, the sound almost muted by her gentle strength and the thickness of the long rug: the first sign of her impatience.
"Serena." The word floats through the air and I plant my back to the door, facing Mina and her compiled composure. Damn, how does she manage to look so in control? Another mystery of life left for me to figure out.
"OK, OK. Four time, but what was I supposed to do? Tell him he didn't know to do it right?" I wail hysterically. Why must I always lose my wits whenever I'm in a panicked frenzy?
I can see Mina visibly relaxes, her shoulders sink and her face softens a considerable amount. Shaking her head, she begins to laugh. "You are hopeless, you know? God, I think if the guy proposed to you, you'd actually say yes and put up with his sex troubles for the fear of hurting his feelings and telling him to take his dick and go to hell."
Wow, that was harsh. Since when did we go from sex troubles to dick? "Look, Mina. You're going to have to admit that not all men can be Jamie Lastman so hopefully you'll understand when I don't base someone's skill in bed as a reason to either marry them or dump them. And it's not that... bad," I say defensively. Besides, so what if Michael isn't really that great at sex? How many times are we going to have to sleep together, anyway? I can endure it, and we'll have a happy life together. I can get pregnant the first time after we get married--if we do get married, Mina, you relationship tycoon-- and that'll be all. Plus, I can think up of some way to dodge any intercourse by coming up with some clever technique like bribing my doctor into writing a slip that any sexual action could turn fatal, or even faking one myself. Besides, it's not for a couple of years, so I still have time to think.
It's all figured out, then. We'll get married, I'll get pregnant as fast as I can, find out some way to not have sex for all nine months, and welcome my new fantastic life as a great wife and mother. I do not have to worry about anything. Now, let's get back to that fabulous dress.
I momentarily forget about Mina as I gloat over my great mental power but those glaring circles are hard to avoid for long. I brace myself as I sense her getting ready to lecture me about my missing the point, again. "Serena, sex is a very important part of any relationship so don't start telling me bull about it not being bad. You may think that now, but what about after ten more years? Do not deprive yourself of pleasure you deserve just because of some idiot who can't use his own prick--"
Before I can stop myself my mouth is open and I'm full out defending myself against the Mina's remarks. I can't just stand there and take it, especially when Michael is involved. It's like unwritten relationship rule that I have to follow. "I think I know myself a bit better than you so you'll have to excuse me if I do what I think is right versus what you do, Mina." Abruptly I stop and shake my head. "You know what? Let's not say things we will regret later, OK? I'm staying with Michael; you're staying with Jamie. Everybody wins, everybody's happy."
"Fine, whatever you say." Mina walks back to her white dress and runs her hand down the delicate skirt.
"Knock, knock!" Mom's head appears as the door edges open. "How's it going, girls?"
"OK," we reply in unison.
Mom smiles adoringly at us and fully steps into the room. She always thought of Mina and me as sisters since we both have basically the same features, but that's where our resemblance stops. "Great! Oh, Mina, honey, everything looks so spectacular. I'm so jealous." She giggles and looks at the dress. "Oh, my, it looks so surreal. I just--I still can't believe you're getting married." Mom walks over to hug Mina. I can tell she's getting tearful. Mom is like that, expected to cry at anything event. I remember watching Legally Blonde with her one afternoon and she started to wipe her tears the minute the credits rolled. I didn't get that; the movie had a good ending--too good, in my opinion.
Or during our high school's production of Legend of Yuri, a play written by one of the students (and my unofficial rival), Becka King. Imagine being the only member of the cast whose mother started sobbing hysterically after my lousy (and small) performance as The Person Who Stands Beside the Maid, chanting, "That's my girl! We love you, honey. We're so proud." Mrs. Knoggle, the principal, told her to either sit through the rest of the play quietly or wait outside until the end. I was mortified, and completely and utterly embarrassed. I actually considered buying white powder because it looked like my horrible red-the-color-of-a-tomato cheeks were never going to return to normal.
"So, Serena. How are things going with Michael?" Mom asks as soon as she realizes I'm still in the room. She's been so busy helping out with the wedding that she hardly even has time to properly question how my life/job/relationship/health is going. But don't call me ungrateful. I've been attempting to dodge every invite as much as possible ever since Mom discovered the Diet, which consists of eating nothing but grapefruits and drinking herbal tea. And since she got it into her head that she had lost five pounds upon going on said diet, it's been her mission to put me on the torture lifestyle as well. Not that I don't appreciate her efforts--it's nice that she cares about how I look--it's just that I'm really dubious of the Diet, which is how Mom refers to it as if it has become her deity, and if it actually works.
And I'm not willing to miss out on great desserts and fatty foods just to suck on grapefruits and sulk for a sweet treat for something that may not do anything to me. I don't have that much will. Besides, herbal tea tastes nasty.
"Oh," I say, stupefied. Mina shoots me a dirty look from behind Mom's back and I gulp. Intimidated by Mina. Talk about embarrassing. "Well..." I chew my lip, not sure what to say. Mom's expression changes, and worry fills her brown eyes (or are they green?).
"Nothing happened, right? You didn't break...up? Oh, Serena, please tell you did not break up with Michael." I'm a bit shocked by Mom's tone of voice. I never thought she liked Michael that much. In fact, the first time I've brought him over for dinner for Mom and Dad to meet him, they didn't really go out of their way to make him feel comfortable. They were really... dismissive, making lame conversation to make the time pass faster. That sure wasn't the brightest night of my life, especially since I had to make up for my parents' weirdness. Hmm. Best not to think about that.
Remember, I love Michael.
I am happy with Michael.
Michael is great.
"Oh, don't worry. Things...are still going with Michael," I finish lamely. I focus on Mina's dressing table and all the tubes and bottles displayed on it. Does she really need that much stuff? The only make-up I have is my brown gloss/lipstick, eyeshadow compact and black mascara. Mina has offered countless times to take me out shopping and stock up my supply of necessities, but I refused every time. Make-up isn't my thing.
"Actually," I begin, glancing at Mina. "I have a date with him tonight."
"Really?" Mom squeals, all hope restored on her face. "That's wonderful! But won't you be tired? I mean, the wedding's tomorrow. You could always go out sometime after the wedding," she suggests with a thoughtful look on her face. That's what I thought, too, but Michael insisted.
"I'll be find," I say and shrug. "OK, well, I think I better get going. Have to get ready for the date and all." I walk over to Mina, pushing aside our argument. It's not that important, anyway. "Now, you going to be all right? Do you want me to stay with you instead? Because I can call Michael and cancel if you need me."
Mina smiles and rolls her eyes. "When have I not been fine? Come on, this is me we're talking about. You go and have fun..." Mina pauses and looks over at Mom who is busy pretending not to be listening. She lowers her head closer to mine and whispers, "And don't let him take out his tool. I don't want you to remember that nasty experience during my wedding..." She raises her voice and chirps, "OK?"
"Um, OK. Well, bye." I give Mom a wave and walk through the door. Descending down the stairs I think about something I had to remember. The something, the something. What was it? Oh, well. I'm sure I'll remember sooner or later.
Ten Things I Would Never Tell Another Living Soul
- Michael has a small penis. (An exception.)
- Michael is a horrible lover and everytime we have sex, I feel all gross. (An exception as well. It's Mina--what can I say?)
- I had a huge crush on my grade 11 English professor, who was thirty-nine at the time. He wrote unbelievable poetry.
- I made out with Bobby Ingris so he could take my SATs. (It was the first time I did it--made out, I mean.)
- I got my period on a field trip in seventh grade. One of the Tour Guides exclaimed, "Whoa, thar she blows!" and pointed at the back of my pink skirt. I went home wearing a pair of shorts I found at the Lost And Found.
- I tried on Mom's over-the-head expensive high heeled boots and broke the left heel. She couldn't get a refund and was out of five hundred bucks. (It was self-preservation, really--if she knew, she'd kill me. Plain and simple.)
- After Willain Conmana broke up with me--my first boyfriend--I was so angry (and hurt) that I took a tennis racket and put a dent in my Dad's car.
- I blamed it on the neighbor's sixteen-year-old son, who just got his license but was horrible behind the wheel.
- I accidently waxed off my eyebrows and had to draw on ones with a lip pencil, but when I went out it started to rain and my lack of eyebrows reared its ugly head.
- At exactly that moment, a gorgeous hunk of a guy walked by and said, "Missing something?" But I--not being aware that my face was completely hairless--swooned and said, "No, why?"