A/N: Just a silly something I dreamed up a little while ago :)
This could not be happening. No way.
Rachel looked at the dress in Melissa's arms. It was huge, puffy, pink... ARGH! She couldn't believe the woman had been stupid enough to actually buy the damn thing. If she wore that, she would look like an eighties throwback. She had to do something, but what?
Melissa grinned at her, the glint in her eyes suggesting she knew exactly how awful that monstrosity she had christened a gown really was. Rachel wanted to slap her into next Wednesday, wanted to shake her and let her know exactly what she thought of it, but she couldn't. It was, after all, Melissa's wedding, and therefore, her choice.
But it was awful.
Melissa beamed, although fake worry contorted her features. 'Well, aren't you going to try it on?'
Hell, no! Rachel wanted to scream at her. 'Maybe later.' Later meaning when she'd had a stiff drink – well, many drinks – and couldn't see properly.
'Aw, come on, Rach! Mum's here; she wants to see it.'
Gah! The mother! Rachel wanted to just hit something. She settled for gritting her teeth as she remembered the awful, slightly demented woman's comments.
Rachel is such a common name. I named you Amanda and that is what I shall call you.
Oh, dear. You're still single? The old biological clock is ticking, you know. You need to get a move-on before you're barren.
No, Amanda, we own a car. You don't need to get into the first one that pulls up.
As if on cue, her mother walked through the door. 'Amanda, Melissa! There you are! I just wanted to let you know there are some flowers outside. They must be for you, Melissa.'
Rachel wanted to throttle the woman. She'd been told that Mum couldn't possibly stay with Mel and Eddie, that as a loved-up couple, they needed their privacy, and besides, she was a light sleeper and couldn't be doing with hearing them at it all night. When Rachel had implied that the same thing would be happening at her house – she was perfectly content to have her mother thinking she was a whore if it meant she got rid of her – the silly cow had smiled smugly and said, 'You wish. The years haven't been kind to you, have they?'
She was trapped. She had the human embodiment of the devil staying at her house and there was nothing she could do about it.
And now this.
That god-awful dress and flowers for her pretty little sister reminding her that her mother was probably correct.
'No, they're for Rachel,' said Melissa, looking as shocked as her Mum did.
Rachel felt a slight swooping sensation in her stomach as she wordlessly accepted the flowers from Melissa. They were quite simple, white roses with a couple of dashes of some purple kind of fern, but elegant, and she couldn't help but grin as she searched for the card inside.
'Well?' demanded her Mum. 'Who are they from?'
'It doesn't say,' she replied, finally locating a small piece of card with 'For Rachel, hoping you're still alive x', written on it.
'Don't be silly, Amanda, no one would buy such a beautiful bouquet and not say it's from them.'
'Well, they have,' snapped Rachel, a little more harshly than she intended, swinging the flowers back as her Mum attempted to grab them. 'Now, if you don't mind, I think I need a drink.'
'But you haven't tried on the dress!' exclaimed Melissa, looking hurt. 'Please, I need Mum's opinion.'
Rachel rolled her eyes. 'Look, Mel, I'm really not in the mood. Another day, okay?'
'Typical,' muttered her mother as Rachel brushed past her.
'What?' asked Rachel sharply, sick of the constant jibes.
'I said it's typical you. You always have to spoil things for Melissa.'
Rachel felt thirteen again – not a good sign. She wanted to call the damn woman every name under the sun, to tell her that Melissa had stolen her man and that as far as she was concerned, Melissa was spoiling things for her. But she couldn't. She wouldn't rise to her mother's rude comments. She wouldn't let the woman see that even after all these years; she could still make her feel like the broken gingerbread man, the one that was always the last choice.
So that was why she meekly agreed to try on the dress, kept her mouth shut when Melissa – still with that dreadful conceited smirk – and her Mum cooed over how beautiful it was, and let the woman stay an extra night.
After all, it wouldn't do to let them know that the flowers were from Eddie, would it?
Hope you all enjoyed!
Lola x