3. Clarissa

I fluffmy curls around my head, beaming at my new style. A few weeks ago, I decided to get bangs and cut all my dead ends. It was the best thing I could have done because since then, my twist-outs have come out perfect every time, and my mass of curls lasts so much longer.

I take a sip of apple juice as Tyree runs around the apartment as though he doesn’t have the same schedule every day. He always manages to be late in the mornings. Darting across the room, he pecks me on the cheek before he grabs his keys and jogs out the door while tightening his tie.

“Love you. Bye!”

I shake my head and take another sip of juice. Tyree works as a regional manager for a chain of boutique hotels. One of the perks is we stay at some of the best resorts and hotels when we travel. The downside is we don’t get to travel too often between the demands of our current jobs.

I check my watch and take the last sip before I wash my cup and get my purse. My job isn’t quite as glamorous as Tyree’s. There isn’t a specific career goal that I have—I’m one of those people who would be happy doing anything. I work in the IT department for a tech company. Mostly, I handle support tickets all day. If you’re locked out of your computer or your Outlook is on the fritz, I’m your girl.

Did you restart your computer?

No shit, you’d be surprised how often that resolves the issue. For anything else, Google is my best friend.

I lock the door and walk to my car. As I’m driving, an idea pops into my mind. “Siri, call Marissa.”

“Calling Marissa…”The phone rings as I drift into the turning lane.

“Hello.”

“Hey, boo. How are you this fine morning?” I ask, smiling hard.

“Uh-uh, it’s too early.”

“Come on, Rissa. The sooner you go shopping with me, the less we’ll have to do later.” I hear her shuffling over the car speaker, and I smile when she huffs.

“What time?”

“After work. It’ll be quick, I promise. In and out, twenty or thirty minutes, tops,” I say with a grimace. I think, while I would love for my words to be true, we both know they’re not. It’s not that I enjoy long shopping outings, especially after work. It’s just I will find something that’s not on my list, and we will be sidetracked. I’ll say, “Just a few more minutes!” and drift down a new aisle, and before we know it, we’re in a Target time warp. Is it Monday or Saturday? The popcorn will delude us into having a snack, which will inevitably prolong the trip. I know this is true, and so does Rissa, yet she humors me.

“Thirty minutes. That’s it.”

“Yep,” I say with a smile. The conversation shifts to her travels. She finds any reason to jet across the country. Almost every quarter, she’s off to a new place and adding more stamps to her passport. I envy that about her, the ease with which she picks up and spends a few weeks learning a new culture, cuisine, and fashion. A horn beeps in the distance, snapping me out of drifting off, and I tune in just in time to say goodbye.

Our office space is small, but we’re the only ones in the building, so I make quick work of getting set up at my desk. I’ve worked here for three years, and I like it enough. The people are pretty cool. Nobody steals my lunch from the refrigerator, and I can watch movies at my desk. To be fair, that last one isn’t quite a sanctioned pastime, but literally our entire department does it when there’s downtime. As long as I don’t have a pile of tickets going unanswered, what I do with my free time is my business.

“Clarissa, good morning.”

I turn to see Bobby coming up to my desk with a coffee in her hand and a smile on her face. Bobby is what we call a lifer. She’s been here since the inception of the business, going on twenty years.

“Hey, Bobby.”

“Did you ever decide on Lavender 324 or 325?”

I must have asked the entire office if they could tell the difference. These aren’t for my main colors, they’re accent colors for thank you cards and napkin choices, but those choices are just as important as any other decision I have to make for this wedding. Lavender 324 has a bit more of a gray-blue undertone, while 325 has a pinkish hue.

“I’m still debating it. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe all my plans are coming together,” I say, dancing in my seat. There is something so exciting about having a vision and slowly seeing it come to fruition. I think that’s going to be the best part, as well as seeing my real-life floral arrangements in person and the sparkle of the rhinestone-encrusted tapestry banners. All those little details coming together to make my day perfect.

“Wow, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” Bobby says, and the smile I was sporting slips from my lips.

“Not like that! It’s just I’ve never met someone who actually dreamt of their wedding as a kid. You have every detail laid out, and I can’t imagine the pressure.”

My face drops, and I’m shaking my head. I’ve heard this before, and while I won’t deny the planning is stressful, like when I thought the fabric for my dress was out of stock, I still crave it. This feels like my Superbowl, my Heisman moment, you know? My actual dreams are being realized.

“Oh, there’s no pressure. I just can’t wait until the big day. It feels like it’s taking forever, but at the same time, it’s moving fast.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Bobby says, patting my shoulder before she’s off and I’m left at my cubicle. Most of my day is spent on Google troubleshooting issues, snack breaks, and adding notes to my phone of things to review for the wedding. We had a late afternoon meeting for our department, but it’s a distant memory as I park my car and hop out. The meeting ran a little bit over, so I’m a few minutes later than the time we said we would meet.

Marissa is standing with her arms crossed under her chest at the front entrance. I run up to her and give her a hug.

“Is the baby tired?” I ask, swaying us from side to side as she resists my embrace. She groans and tries to get away, but I’m stronger, and I hold her in place.

“Ugh, okay, Lis. Dang, you’ve already wasted five minutes.”

I straighten up and smooth down my pants. “Oh, you’re right. I promised no more than thirty minutes.”

Rissa cuts her eyes at me with a smirk, and I return her smile.

“Man, I can’t stand that I love you. The lies you tell taste so sweet.”

“It’s giving poetry. That was cute,” I say, pulling her arm into mine as we walk into the store. She breaks away with a head shake and grabs a basket. “So, how was your day?”

Rissa stops and lets out a breath. While my day can be repetitive and mundane at times, Rissa’s life is all fire and flames. Her new seamstress cut a hole in some important chiffon fabric. This created a need to rush around the city to all her small, hidden gems around town to find a replacement.

“Girl, I wanted to strangle him, but I remember what it was like when you’re just out of school and you’re still learning. I do have an ‘ask before using the scissors’ policy now, though.” She laughs, and we make our way down the aisle. “So, how are you feeling? I still can’t believe you’re planning this all by yourself.”

I look over at Rissa with my eyebrows creased. “What? Technically, I’ve worked out all the details, and I have friends like you to help me pick out gift bags and put together all the goodies for my guests.”

She pushes my shoulder, and we laugh.

“Anyway, did I tell you Derrek called me yesterday?” Rissa says so smoothly, I trip over my feet.

“Derrek? Wait, are we excited or still playing it cool?”

She stops pushing the basket and bites her thumbnail, an old habit she picked up in seventh grade and has yet to drop.

“What? Little baby could never be pressed,” she says, smoothing down her eyebrows and moving to the next aisle.

“Okay, got it. We’re very pressed. We’re extra starch button-down pressed, but it’s a secret.”

She cuts her eyes back at me, and I hold my hands up with a grimace.

“Ugh, I hate this part.” She frowns, and I pull her into a side hug.

“I remember when Tyree and I first met. He asked for my number while I was walking back from the library, and I swear sparks flew, but of course, because of the pressure of social norms, I had to pretend like I wasn’t taking mental measurements to see if he could handle a pleated suit. You know, not everyone can pull off pleats. They seem so simple, but it’s a short road to him looking like he works for the metro system or some form of security with thighs looking thicker than mine,” I say, and that gives me the laugh I was expecting. Rissa is sweet but aloof at times. I know she likes this guy, but if you let her, she will never sink into a relationship and instead play this back-and-forth game of will they, won’t they.

“Okay, so he’s cute or whatever.”

“Finally. Girl, it’s a wonder we ever became friends the way you close yourself off.”

“Well, that’s easy. I met you in third grade before I learned from Brian Grady why wearing your heart on your sleeve is detrimental to your well-being.”

The name pulls me back to ninth grade when she cried her eyes out because Brian showed up at the game with Tanya Roberts on his arm after Rissa told him she had a crush. It wouldn’t have been so bad for him not to be interested, but they’d talked on the phone for two weeks leading up to that, and then it was like a switch flipped. My girl was heartbroken, and I don’t think there’s anything worse than seeing someone you care about hurting when there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Two hours later, Rissa is staring at me over her popcorn, and I’m smiling while avoiding eye contact. She knew what this was. I wish I were better, but alas, I am who I am, and drawn-out shopping trips are a part of me.