Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“Hi Mom,” I say in a chirpy voice with a smile plastered on my face. “Good morning.”
Amity doesn’t even notice my slightly watery eyes and the waver to my voice. Instead, she rushes into my bedroom and begins digging through my closet.
“Goodness, I didn’t know when you were going to wake up. You came in so late last night, and we didn’t even realize you were home until we saw the mud you tracked in. I swear, Amy. Some things never change. You were a dirty child, and now you’re a dirty young woman. But never mind because it won’t be our problem for much longer. It’s good that you’re back because today’s your wedding day, Amy! Your fiancé is out of rehab, and it’s time to tie the knot.”
I stare at my mom. Events are happening at light-speed, and I have no idea why. I just got back from a long hike where I encountered a handsome, mysterious man, and now my parents are dragging me to my wedding?
“Wait, what?”
My mom’s voice is muffled as she digs around in my closet.
“Don’t say that you forgot, Amy. What girl forgets about her own nuptials? Ah ha, here, I found it. This will work.”
Amity reappears with a light pink ballgown in her hands. She bought it for me two years ago when we went to her client’s daughter’s quinceañera, which is like a Sweet Sixteen party for Latinx girls. It’s a gorgeous dress but something that Belle would wear in the Beauty and the Beast movie, with a huge poufy bottom that goes to the floor, lots of bows and frills, and a sweetheart neckline. I could be Cinderella dancing at the palace, and I wouldn’t look out of place. But as a wedding dress? No.
“You must be kidding,” I say in a flat tone. “There’s no way that I’m wearing that, under any circumstances whatsoever. Besides, it’s not going to fit because I’ve gained about fifteen pounds since we bought it. It’s way too small.”
But Amity ignores me. She nods approvingly at the puffy ballgown, admiring the intricate lace.
“I know you didn’t love this dress, but it was perfect for the quinceañera, don’t you agree? A lot of times dresses like this never get a second wear, but in your case, the timing is perfect. Of course, we didn’t realize it would become your wedding gown, but all’s well that ends well. Try it on, Ames,” she says, holding it out to me.
I stare at the layers of frills and bows, shaking my head. Then, I try to change the subject.
“Hold on, Mom. Slow down about the outfit because I want to find out more. I’m so confused! Let’s talk more about logistics. I came in last night from my hike. What time did I get back? Where did I go?”
My mother shrugs, still admiring the frothy mass of tulle and silk in her hands.
“I don’t know, Amy. You told me and your father that you were going on a short hike to “get away from it all,” and we let you go because your fiancé was in rehab. Your absence wasn’t going to be a problem. But we found out yesterday that he’s just gotten out, and we were beside ourselves with worry. You weren’t picking up your phone, and we had half a mind to call the Parks Service to see if they could fly a helicopter out to do a search. But everything turned out okay because this morning, your boot tracks were on the kitchen floor. Sure enough, you’d come home! It’s perfect, Amy. You’re getting married today.”
“But … but…” I stammer.
“But nothing,” Amity says, holding out the pink gown to me. “You’re tying the knot with a wonderful man this morning! You should be happy.”
I stare at my mom.
“But…”
“Stop stammering,” she scolds. “It’s very unbecoming. You should be happy you’re having an arranged marriage because what husband would take you if they knew you had such diarrhea of the mouth? Chop chop, Amy. I’m already dressed, and your father’s waiting downstairs. We need to go.”
Sure enough, Amity’s clad in a pink Chanel skirt and blazer set, with a big pearl CC broach pinned to her lapel. The rosy color sets off her fair skin, and somehow makes her red hair look even more beautiful, instead of clashing with its fiery tones. I scrunch the silk fabric of my gown with one fist, still shocked at this turn of events. Amity merely looks back at me, her blue eyes calm, as if nothing’s wrong.
“Are you going to get dressed or am I going to have to do it for you? You’re not a Barbie doll, Amy, nor a child. Surely, getting dressed should be doable?”
I jump into motion because I don’t want my mom touching me. Quickly, I slide out of my sleep set and into the pink dress. It’s tight across the bust, and the bodice hugs my torso like a glove before flaring out in a giant cupcake shape. Who wears these things outside of quinceañeras? I can’t believe this is happening and clench my fists with frustration.