Don’t I know!

“So it seemed the perfect place to tell you…” My sister pauses for effect. “Are you ready?”

No!

Can I say, no, run out of the diner, and never see them again?

I swallow, grimace, and nod.

Julia takes a deep breath and says, “We’re engaged!”

Something pulls tight in my chest, and I blab the first thing that comes into my head, “T-to each other?”

“Of course to each other, silly.” Having thus handed down my death sentence, Jules launches into a wedding planning rant. “No need to say, you’ll be my maid of honor. The main color scheme for the ceremony and reception will be cream and peach. But I’ll need your visual expertise to make sure everything is perfect.”

“I-I produce commercials,” I manage to stutter. “I don’t plan weddings.”

“Yeah, but you have an eye for setting, wardrobe, photography… You’re the ace up my sleeve. We’re still debating over two different wedding planners, but as soon as we pick one I’ll let you have their contact so we can all coordinate…”

I don’t interrupt her a second time. I let her blab on and on about all her wedding ideas while I nod and mmm-hmm every now and then whenever I feel a pause in the conversation requires it. Conversation… more like a monologue. I should be glad my input isn’t needed. There’s too much of a strong buzz inside my head for me to be able to communicate anyway. Something like the loud ambient interference of a microphone standing too close to the speakers. I’m the microphone, and Jules and Paul’s engagement is the amplifier making my brain explode and taking my heart with it.

Two

Blue Christmas

“You think I’m making a mistake?” Jules asks.

Her voice drags me out of the haze I’ve been in since my sister dropped the bombshell that she and Paul are engaged. I stare up at her, surprised to see we’re both in my office. That I’m sitting behind my desk while my sister is perched on it and is eyeing me expectantly. I don’t remember paying for lunch, or even if I said goodbye to Paul. Did I congratulate them? I hope my strict, uptight education kicked in at some point, and that I managed to be at least polite, if not overenthusiastic.

I’m not sure why Julia came back uptown with me after we left Big Mama. Or why she followed me all the way to my office. Or why she’s now seated on my furniture asking very stupid questions.

“A mistake?” My words come out in a hiss. Julia is marrying Paul; how dare she not thank her lucky stars? “What do you mean, a mistake?”

“Only that Paul is so predictable sometimes, don’t you think?” Jules doesn’t let me answer before she continues. “Take the way he proposed. He made a romantic dinner at home with candlelight and roses and popped the question after dessert.”

Red. I see red, and I’m not sure I can keep the anger out of my voice as I ask, “And what would a worthy proposal have entailed?”