The Ugly Sister

THE UGLY SISTER

By Penny Blake

Always do what you’re afraid to do.

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter One

Wedding Day

I’m standing in front of a full length mirror while six bridesmaids struggle to stuff me into my gown like sausage into a silky white casing.  We’ve finally managed to get the sparkly sweetheart bodice up over my boobs, but the delicate pearl buttons in back are impossible to fasten.

My cousin Deb grunts, her face a bright fuscia that clashes with her lavender gown.  “This dress fit fine two months ago,” she grits out. “I thought brides were supposed to
lose
weight before the wedding.” 

The only reason she’s allowed to say this is because she’s a size twenty to my size eighteen.  “Maybe we can double-Spanx you,” she says. “I heard that’s what Adele does.”

“I’m already double Spanxed.” I say on a shallow breath as a flurry of yanking and tugging goes on behind me.

“Try sucking in.”

“I
am
sucking in.”

“Suck in more.”

“I
can’t
suck in anymore.”

“Okay, then try holding your breath.”

I take in a deep gulp of air and the next thing I know, my casing is firmly in place.  Cheers go up behind me, and I exhale in relief.

Pop.  Ping.

I cock my head.  “What was—“

Ping. Ping. Ping.

“The buttons!”
 
Deb yells, lunging to unfasten me and save the dress, but it’s too late.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

I stare at my horrified face in the mirror and clutch the slack fabric of my gown over my chest, realizing that the wedding I’ve been painstakingly planning for the last two years has just been seriously compromised, if not ruined completely. 

I have no idea that it’s about to get so much worse.

Chapter 2

Tiffany Blue

We rig up my dress with twine, throw a lavender silk shawl over the whole mess, and Brian and I exchange vows without further incident.  The whole ceremony goes by in a blur, and the next thing I know, my new husband and I are standing side by side in the receiving line while friends and family members shower us with well wishes. 

Brian is thin and lanky and I’m tall and round, and I wonder if anyone notices that when we stand side by side, we resemble the number ten. 

I give my dad a big hug, and then my sister April sidles up to stand between me and our cousin Deb in the receiving line.

April is wearing the most gorgeous tiffany blue dress I’ve ever seen.  With my pale skin and brown hair, any shade of pastel makes me look washed out and homely, but on her, the color is stunning. 

It’s a simple silk dress that shows off her tan, yoga-toned arms and perfect hourglass figure.  Her blond hair has gotten longer, and it falls in golden waves past her shoulders, her bangs framing big blue eyes.

She has a daisy in her hair, and she looks like the sky in summertime.

She smiles broadly and wraps me in a hug.  “I can’t believe my little sister just got married!” she beams.  “This was the best wedding ever, and you look amazing! Seriously amazing—and this shawl is such a cool idea.”

“Better to hide my ham hock arms with,” I say.

She slaps me playfully. “Stop that.  You look incredible and you know it.”

After I’d gotten engaged last year, I’d asked April to be my maid of honor, knowing the role usually goes to one’s sister and not wanting her to feel slighted.

She’d been in the throes of her first real break-up. Well, it was the first time she was ever on the receiving end of being dumped anyway, which hit her surprisingly hard.  She called me late one night sobbing that she couldn’t be my maid of honor because she was so broken up over her own romantic tragedy.

I’d actually been relieved since I knew that standing next to my sister would only make me look plainer and fatter.  It was the story of my life. Now as she stands next to me in the receiving line, I’m a little sad but not surprised that she’s managed to eclipse my shine after all.

My aunt gives me the obligatory congratulations and then moves on to April. “Oh my goodness April, you look gorgeous!  That dress!  You seriously need to get into modeling, sweetie. You could be on the cover of a magazine.”

“Aw, thanks, Aunt Meg. Would you believe I got this at a consignment shop for only ten bucks?  It was a little faded and discolored so I brightened it up with some fabric dye from the craft store.  I wasn’t sure if it was too bright.”

“Oh no, it’s perfect,” another aunt chimes in.  “That’s so smart. You’ve always been creative like that.  Burt, did you know that April bought that dress used for only ten dollars and died it herself?”

“No way,” says our thirteen-year-old cousin.  “Can we go thrift shopping together, April?  Your clothes are always so awesome!”

“Congratulations Ember,” our uncle says, taking my hand in his sticky one. “I’m so glad you didn’t have this thing at a church.  The hotel’s expensive though so I couldn’t give you a gift.”

Uncle Howard is a lifelong bachelor with a drinking problem and a lot of missing teeth.  When he notices my sister, he leans in to give her a full on kiss on the lips. She turns her head just in time and he grazes her check instead.  “Always the family beauty, April.  Boy, if you weren’t my niece…”  He lets out a gross laugh and I don’t bother to hide my disgust.  I turn to Brian to see if he overheard so we can make fun of the incident later.

He doesn’t seem to be paying attention, and his face is oddly flushed. I nudge him with my elbow and he looks at me, but his eyes are a million miles away.  I tilt my head in question, but he merely turns back to the next guest. 

I’m not sure if he’s feeling sick or just nervous, though now that the wedding is over, I imagine he should be relieved.

I glance over at one of my new in-laws.  “That’s a beautiful dress, sweetie.” The woman is saying, then she turns to me. “And yours too Ember. Very sparkly!” She smiles broadly and moves on.

“Congratulations, Ember—beautiful wedding,” our aunt says.  “And April!  Everyone keeps raving about your dress.  Now I can see why.  You look gorgeous, honey.  Tiffany blue is the perfect color for a wedding.”  She puts a hand over her heart.  “Your mother would be so proud—of both of you.”

“Aw, thanks Aunt Joan.  I have a secret, you know.”  April leans in conspiratorially. “And you’re the first one I’m going to tell. Are you ready?”

“What is it,” our grandmother butts in. “I love a good secret.”

“Well…” April smiles triumphantly, clasping her hands together. “I’m in love.”

And just like that, I’m reduced to my usual place in the shadows.  Friends and family gather around April to hear the latest on her love life.  You’d think they’d be sick of hearing about her boyfriend du jour by now, but they’re not.  They listen intently as she tells her story. It’s her passion, excitement and zest for life that gets them going.  The guy is just a minor detail.

This one she met at an art supply store. She was working as counter help when he came in to buy canvas.  She punched out for the day and noticed it was raining. He was leaving too, so he walked her to her car under his umbrella so she wouldn’t get wet.  She wasn’t sure if he had the guts to ask for her number, so she asked for his.  Now they had been dating for three months, and for the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be in love—not fake love, but real honest-to-goodness true love.

“That’s so romantic!” my new mother-in-law gushes.

I roll my eyes.

“Well that explains your glow, honey,” our grandmother says.  “You’ve always been a beauty, but today you look especially radiant.  Now I know why.  Being in love suits you.”

I look over at Brian, who still looks red and weirdly sweaty.  “Bri, are you okay?”

He looks at me again, and this time the emptiness in his eyes is replaced with abject terror.  He shakes his head.  “I think I’m having a panic attack.”

I put my arm around my new husband and usher him outside to get some fresh air.  He sits down on the hotel steps and puts his face in his hands, breathing heavily.  I rub his back in circles. 

“It’s been a crazy day,” I tell him. “You’re probably just relieved to have all the pressure off and—“

“It’s not that, Ember.” He bites out.  He takes off his glasses and rubs them on his jacket.  I wait for him to continue.

Brian and I have been boyfriend and girlfriend since he gave my first kiss in the 6
th
grade. I wasn’t his first kiss—I was his third.  We have a running joke that he was a manwhore before he met me, but I managed to tame him. 

Brian is a gentle guy with bad skin and a kind heart.  He has an intense love for bad horror movies and the band The Misfits (neither of which I share).  But he’s a good listener and my very best friend, so when he asked me to marry him, there was no question in my mind when I screamed yes.

He takes a deep breath and when he looks up, his eyes are wet with tears.  “Ember...I think we’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Chapter 3

Psychos and Slashers

I tilt my head, waiting for him to continue.  He stands up and starts pacing.  “It’s just…we’ve been together for such a long time.  I don’t even know what it’s like not to be with you—“

“Brian,
please
don’t tell me you’re gay.”

“What? No, no.”  He shakes his head and sits down on the step in front of me.  We’re eye to eye, and he leans his forehead against mine like he’s done a thousand times before, but his eyes are sadder than I’ve ever seen them.  He leans back. “Ember, I love you.  But I don’t think I’m
in
love with you.  It’s just…you’re my best friend, and my parents really like you, and they got married young, and at the time, it seemed like a good idea.  We were graduating high school and everything, so getting married seemed like he next logical step. But ever since I proposed, I just—I feel like—like this is all a terrible mistake.  Like I’ve been going through the motions but my heart isn’t in it.  And I wanted to tell you sooner but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to hurt you, and--“

“Wait a minute Brian, let me stop you right there. So you’re telling me this now…
after
we just got married?”

“But we can get a divorce, or an annulment.  I looked it up online and—“

“No, Brian.  This is just cold feet.  It’s normal to feel this way—it usually happens before the wedding, but that’s okay.  We can work through it.  Let’s just give it a week and see where we are once all the pressure is off.  In the meantime, we’ll enjoy the wedding and—“

“I’m in love with someone else.”

“
What
?”

“I met her at the horror convention. You know, the one you didn’t want to go to? Well, I met her at the Psychos and Slashers booth, and we’ve been Skyping non-stop ever since.  I think I’m in love with her.” His eyes go teary again. “I’m so sorry Ember.  I just don’t think I’m in love with you.  I don’t know if I ever really was.”

“I can’t believe this.”  I stand up and throw down my bouquet, then stomp up the church steps and fling open the doors.  “I can’t fucking believe this!” I sob as I run past our friends and family, everyone staring at me in confusion.

I have to get away from them so I blindly rush forward through another set of double doors. 

“Ember!” Brian calls out behind me. “Wait, I need to talk to you!”

I keep rushing forward into the room where the reception was supposed to be held.  “Why couldn’t you just be gay!”  I take in the numbered tables, the lilac centerpieces, the little silver picture frames with “Brian and Ember Forever” engraved on them topping each perfect place setting.

I storm across the dance floor, getting angrier and angrier as I charge toward the gift table.  I pick up a big silver present and lob it behind me, where Brian is coming in the door. It narrowly misses his head.

“Ember, I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.  I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did, Brian,” I say, my voice shaking. “You hurt me really, really bad.” 

A crowd has followed us into the reception room and they all stare at me with pitying expressions.  Brian holds his arms out and walks forward to give me a hug. 

But instead of falling into his embrace, I reach over and grab a fist full of wedding cake, and smear it in his lying, cheating face.

I’ve barricaded myself alone our honeymoon suite, crying and drinking champagne straight out of the bottle.  I’ve been ignoring all the well-meaning guests knocking softly on the door and asking in gentle tones if I’m okay. How could I possibly be okay?  At one point, my dad threatened to call 911 if I didn’t respond.  I sobbed, “I’m fine, just leave me alone!  Please.”

It had been hours since anyone last knocked.  Now 11:30 at night, I’m sure all the guests have gone home or checked into their rooms for the night.

I take a long gulp of champagne and stare sadly out the window, not knowing where to go next.

Before his big announcement, Brian and I had our entire future mapped out.  After the wedding was over, we would move in together.  We were both on the verge of completing our associate’s degrees at the community college, which we’d done to save money.  Our next step was to get an apartment together while working on our bachelor’s degrees in teaching.  Brian was going to teach computer science and I was going to teach English, and we would eventually have our own house, one very spoiled kid, two pugs and a well-tended garden.   

But now that it’s just me, none of that sounds fun anymore. 

I can’t help wondering if Brian would have left me at the altar if I looked like April. No, of course he wouldn’t.  And did this even count as being left at the altar, since technically, he’d broken up with me ten minutes after we were married? And why didn’t I notice that something was wrong with him while we were saying our vows? 

I try to replay the moment in my mind, and I can picture the minister, his podium, the flowers, the bridesmaids and the little red pillow holding our rings.  But I can’t specifically remember much about Brian.  Of course I’d been looking at him, but it was as if I had never stopped to really see him.

I take another long gulp of champagne, and then my mind turns to grilled cheese sandwiches, fried chicken, nachos and cookie dough ice cream.  It’s been hours since I’ve eaten, and I’m longing for some comfort food.

A glance at the clock tells me it’s probably safe to slip out now.  As I walk toward lobby to ask the front desk attendant to call a cab, I’m hit with a fresh wave of grief as the enormity of my loss bears down on me. 

A romantic highlight reel of our entire nine-year relationship unspools in my mind: the note Brian passed me in 6
th
grade that said “Will you be my girlfriend?  Check yes or no.”  Our first chaste kiss behind the shed during recess. Losing my virginity to him the summer before our sophomore year one afternoon when his parents were at the grocery store.  The silver heart necklace he gave me afterwards that said “The One” on it.  The picture of us in the high school yearbook with “Class Couple” captioned below.  Brian kneeling down in front of our whole high school class at graduation and proposing while I tearfully screamed yes.

I burst out crying again, not caring who sees.  But no one does.  The halls are empty and the crowd that was milling around the lobby earlier is now long gone. 

I make my way to the front desk, which is also empty, and wait for the clerk. I feel my nose dripping and wipe it on the corner of my lavender shawl.

“Tissue?” says a voice behind me.

“Thanks,” I reply softly, taking the tissue and making a loud honking noise into it.  “Sorry,” I sniff and looked up.

That’s when I see one of the most handsome faces I’ve ever encountered.