Chapter 7: An Ending, A Beginning

I dragged Patrick through the snow, clutching his gloved hand with my own. We were going to be late.

“Are you sure we really have to be there?” he called from behind me.

“Patrick!” A snowflake caught on my eyelash and I rubbed it away, likely smearing my mascara and eyeliner everywhere. “You are such a fucking devil.”

“I’ll probably erupt into flames when we walk through the door.”

“Probably,” I agreed. My boot stuck in a crack on the sidewalk and I nearly fell, but Patrick caught me just in time. “Thanks. Now maybe God will give you a minute before setting you on fire.”

Patrick grinned and kissed me. I had to pull away after a minute.

“Stop trying to distract me! We have to go.”

We couldn’t be late for the wedding. Number one, I didn’t want to be late, and number two, I didn’t want to be a spectacle. People were already going to be watching for us. It had been a year, but we were still interesting specimens.

It appeared Chloe could love again. She met Greg shortly after our whole terrible fall-out. A few months later she started emailing me back. She invited me over to dinner once to meet him—only me, and only once. He was kind but a bit plain and mild-mannered. Not at all Chloe’s type, but it seemed she was trying something new. And it worked. Shortly afterwards she was engaged. I tracked most of their relationship through Facebook (once she unblocked me) and I felt unbelievably relieved Chloe found someone new. Perhaps even a bit selfishly.

My parents still weren’t thrilled with me. They invited me back to Sunday dinners but I didn’t go; Greg and Chloe were typically there, and Patrick was never invited. I understood and hoped that, with time, things would change.

My mother kept in touch with me. I didn’t speak much to my father. He hadn’t forgiven me.

Some friends stopped talking to me, too. Family members united with Chloe. There seemed to be more repercussions to my relationship with Patrick than I originally realized.

But Patrick and I stayed together. It shocked everyone. If I were being honest, it shocked me, too. Some mornings when I woke up before him and looked over at him, painted with morning sun, he didn’t seem real. None of it did. Then he’d wake up and call me a creep for staring at him while he slept, or he’d drag me over to him and fuck me, proving he was very real, indeed.

Then I received Chloe’s wedding invitation. We did share emails, and sometimes even texts, but I didn’t know if I’d be invited to her wedding. It was even wilder that she invited Patrick, too.

And so we were racing to get to the church on time.

We ran up the slippery steps and slipped inside the dark church. My nose burned from both the frost outside and the incense burning inside. Some of the people in the last few pews turned around to glance at us with disapproval. We rushed into our seats and panted, holding and squeezing the other’s hand.

We made it just in time, too, because the music began to play. The bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way up the aisle. I obviously hadn’t been asked to be a bridesmaid, and while I’d decided at the time it was a fair decision, it still hurt a little. But I was just glad to be a part of Chloe’s day.

People were watching us, I noticed. I’d expected it but I couldn’t help fidgeting under their stares. They probably thought it was rude we’d shown up. I tried to remind myself it didn’t matter what they thought. Chloe had invited me, had extended an olive branch, and I happily accepted it.

Then the music changed. Chloe and Dad appeared. She looked absolutely beautiful. She gave my father a little grin when they started walking up to the altar.

When Chloe reached Greg, I saw the look he gave her and felt a bizarre sense of relief. He really loved her; it was all over his face.

The actual ceremony was long and a bit boring. I stopped paying attention and stared at Chloe. My sister.

Time had changed us. We didn’t get along when we were kids, we became best friends when we hit our teens and now we were polite but distant relatives. Chloe still loved me, of course, in her own way. But I knew with a sad sense of finality we would never be close again.

The ceremony was finally over. Chloe burst down the aisle with a giant grin, Greg smiling beside her. She caught my eye and her smile grew softer. Then her eyes shifted over to Patrick. Her expression froze. I couldn’t imagine what that moment felt like to her—to be arm-in-arm with her new husband, faced with her ex-husband. Then she nodded at him and continued on down the aisle.

It had to be so hard for her. A rush of affection came to my heart when I again realized what a big deal it was that she invited us.

The crowd flooded back out into the snow. I tugged my gloves back on while Patrick watched me.

“You okay?”

I wanted to kiss him, but that would have been in bad taste. I only nodded.

My mother drifted over to us. She tried to ignore Patrick but she failed, tossing him a reflexive smile. You couldn’t really ignore Patrick; I’d tried. “Will we see you at the reception?”

“We’re going to come for a bit,” I said. “Chloe mentioned she wanted some pictures with us.”

Mom swallowed. “Really? Good. I’ve missed you. It will—it’s nice to see you.”

Dad walked over and took my mom’s arm. “They’re waiting for us in the limo.”

He didn’t look at us. We didn’t exist.

Mom looked back at me. “There’s room if you two...”

Patrick stepped in. “We’ll take a cab and meet you there.”

Mom looked at him with an almost thankful expression. She probably regretted her offer as soon as she made it, but I appreciated it.

My parents disappeared and most of the relatives and friends had gone, as well. Patrick’s arm wrapped around my back.

“You sure you want to go?”

I took a deep breath. Chloe wanted me there, even if was just to take a few stupid pictures. “Yes.”

And so we went to the reception. Chloe and the wedding party were taking pictures outside when we arrived. She waved me over and we started posing.

At some point, my mom pulled me away. She looked upset. “Will you come over to dinner this Sunday? Chloe and Greg won’t be there.”

I opened my mouth to say no. Not without Patrick. I wanted my parents to understand he was a part of me. But at the same time, I missed Mom and Dad. They were a part of me, too, and I couldn’t blame them for needing to adjust.

I nodded.

Mom was thrilled. “Really?! Oh, wonderful. I’ll make your favorite, okay?”

“Make whatever you want,” I laughed. “I’ll still come.”

She was called by the photographer and rushed over. I looked for Patrick and spotted him a good distance away, talking to Chloe.

I watched them talk. Chloe wasn’t crying or saying anything cruel. Patrick was polite. I wondered what they were saying. Then I decided it wasn’t any of my business.

He came back to me a little while later. “Closure,” he said. I took his hand.

Chloe glanced back at me and I waved at her. She smiled and waved back before disappearing into the banquet hall.

Patrick and I had decided we wouldn’t go to the actual reception. It didn’t seem fair or appropriate. It was Chloe’s day. We didn’t want her to feel sad or uncomfortable, and we didn’t want others to be focused on us.

So we hailed a cab and went back to my apartment.

We were both in a somber mood, lost in our own thoughts. Neither of us said much as we took off our coats and pulled some leftover take-out from the fridge. Rufus was mellow, too. He sleepily joined us on the couch, curling up into a ball in the corner.

Patrick put his arm around me and turned the TV on.

After a while, I felt an urge to say something. “I wish I cooked for you. I never make you anything.”

Patrick turned his head to give me a bemused smile. “Thank God. I’ve tasted your cooking. I don’t want to be poisoned any time soon, thank you.”

I didn’t really want to cook, either. I just didn’t know what else to say, and I hated the silence.

Patrick sensed this and put his hand on the back of my neck, massaging me with his fingers. “I prefer take-out.”

“It’s expensive.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes studied me. “What’s really bothering you?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “It was a big day, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” He stroked my hair. “I’m sorry you couldn’t stay for the reception.”

I snorted. “I’m not. God, can you imagine?”

His lips lifted into a smile but he didn’t seem particularly amused. “No.” His other hand came to my face. His thumb caressed my lips. “I just know it’s hard on you being exiled from your family.”