6. Clarissa

I rollover in the bed and groan. The curtains are pulled open, and a sing-songy melody of “Good morning!” has me shoving my face back under the pillow to stop the noise.

“Turn off the TV, Tyree,” I groan into my pillow.

“Girl, you better move. I can’t believe I’m up before you. Look at your dress. Tell me I didn’t kill this design. My friend gon’ be so cute.” Rissa’s tone is sugary sweet.

“Rissa?” I ask, pulling my head from the pillow.

What the hell is Rissa doing in my bedroom?

“Where is Tyree? Girl, how did you get in here?” I blink against the light.

“Wow, I see those drinks got to you. First things first, Tyree has been relegated to his hotel room with all his people to get ready. And I’m here to get you ready for the big day.”

I can hear the words, and my brain pulls in the information, but it still makes no sense.

“Big day? My wedding is in six months.”

“Oh, shit, what did you drink last night? Look at me,” Rissa says, pulling me up and holding my face between her palms as she stares into my eyes.

“Hmm. I love you, but let’s go brush our teeth,” she adds, pulling back with a scowl.

I cover my mouth and narrow my eyes. “You’re the one in my face. What is today’s date?”

“July 18. Your wedding day.” A rush of panic floods my veins, and I hop up.

“My wedding day?” I press my fingers into my cheeks. “Today?!” I screech and run to the bathroom.

“Calm down, makeup and hair won’t get here for another hour. I didn’t think you would sleep at all, but it looks like you slept too well. Who forgets their wedding day?” Rissa shakes her head and eyes me from the bathroom door as I brush my teeth.

Only now do I notice the black marble backdrops that are definitely not in my bathroom at home. With Tyree’s job in hospitality, he got everyone in the wedding party rooms, as well as extended family. I remember picking this hotel because it reminded me of a spa with its black marble and white accents. I wanted to feel tranquil on the morning of my wedding. I drop my head and crease my brows.

How is today the day? I was just at home…wasn’t I?

“Babes, you sure you’re okay? I can’t believe you aren’t jumping for joy.”

I finish brushing my teeth and rinse my mouth. “It’s not that. I don’t understand how we’re here already.”

“Ahh, yes. See, time is this thing that keeps ticking forward. Every hour, more time accumulates until bam! It’s your wedding day.”

She claps loudly as I give her a blank stare before she sticks out her tongue.

“I really can’t stand you.”

“I love you too,” she says, blowing me a kiss before she’s out the door.

The last thing I remember is going to sleep with a headache. I shake off my thoughts and stare at my reflection. Today is the day—the first day of the rest of my life. My smile spreads slow, and excitement floods my system. Today is the day that I’ve been imagining since I was five. I turn into a ball of energy, fluttering around the bathroom and getting into the mood.

“Where is my mom?” I ask Rissa as the makeup artist contours my cheekbones and brows.

“She’s around here somewhere. I heard her asking about the flowers you ordered. She’s down there making sure it looks like your wedding bible design.”

I keep still but acknowledge her with a hum as my bridal party whips around me, half-dressed and in various stages of hair and makeup. The hours go by as quickly as the months, and before I know it, my mom and dad are standing in front of me in the perfect dress that Rissa made me, and I’m fighting back the tears.

It’s a sweetheart neckline that hugs my body and then sprouts out around the knees to trail behind me. The fabric is a soft, pale lavender that’s almost white, which matches the bridesmaids in their darker lavender dresses in styles that fit each person. I didn’t want a bridal party wearing styles that aren’t flattering to their shape all for the sake of me having a uniform look—big bust, no hips, big hips, or small bust, I wanted everyone to be comfortable. The color scheme is the same, but the cut is unique to the woman wearing it. I hug my mom and fight the tears as she wipes my eyes.

“You look beautiful, Clarissa,” she says, giving me another hug before I hear the music playing. My dad looks down at me, and I really might lose it. He’s blinking and moving his attention to the ceiling.

My father is a big teddy bear—a larger-than-life figure who always knows the right thing to say. I’ve never seen him emotional, so his tears make mine swell, and I blink rapidly, waving my hand in my face to keep them from spilling.

“You are your mother’s twin,” he says with emotion thick in his words.

“Come on, Dad. Don’t make me cry.”

The sting tingles in my nose, and I take a slow breath. He pulls me in for a hug while rubbing my back. “Your mother and I are proud of you. I can’t believe my baby is all grown up. I still remember when you would dress your dolls in toilet paper and have ceremonies between them.”

I laugh under my breath, thinking of a time that feels so long ago. I would steal my mom’s magazines and circle all the things I wanted for my day. She finally got tired of seeing her things defaced and got me my own scrapbook. That’s where it all started.

“We can still run out the back. Are you sure about this?”

“Of course, I am, Daddy.”

He smiles down at me and adjusts the veil before he takes my arm, and we march down the aisle. The music is sweet and soulful. I knew I wanted a live band for the ceremony for this reason. You can feel the electricity in the air, and the smooth vocals are beautiful as we walk to the beat.

At the end of the aisle is Tyree. His face is down, so I can’t see his expression, but by the way his shoulders shake, I think he’s crying. I always thought the videos with the groom crying as the bride walked down the aisle were amazing. My chest grows tight, and my feet are moving, but I can’t feel it. It’s almost like I’m floating down to meet him. I try to blink past the emotions threatening to take me over.

My breathing is slow and shallow as I walk, and I’m doing my best not to crumple in a heap of fabric and tears. I would be a gorgeous heap, but that would ruin all my pictures. We reach the front, and my dad turns to me with tears streaming down his face as he kisses my temple. I know if I try to speak, I’m liable to lose it, so I bite my cheek and take a deep breath.

“You look beautiful,” my dad says before he moves me up and walks to sit next to my mom in the front row. Tyree’s mom and dad are next to them, and they give a small wave.

I turn to Tyree, and I freeze.

His eyes are deep-set, framed by thick lashes. The irises aren’t the usual amber brown that sparkles in the light but a deep-roasted coffee color, an espresso with nothing added. They’re so dark I lean forward with confusion. His nose is wide-set and perfectly aligned with lips framed by a thick beard. His hair is cut low, and I lose my breath while scanning his face.

“Issa, are you okay? You don’t look so good,” he says, but the voice is different. It’s all molasses mixed with an accent I can’t quite put my finger on. I take a step back and shake my head.

“What? What is this?” I ask, taking another step back and scanning the audience. A gasp flows over the crowd, and Rissa is by my side in an instant, gripping my shoulders.

“Lis, are you okay? Girl, is this some kind of performance?” she asks with her eyes darting down my face and back to the crowd.

My mom and dad rush to my side, and I grip my head. The room isn’t quite spinning, but I’m no more focused.

“Clarissa? Clarissa, what’s wrong?” my mom asks, pulling my face forward and looking back at my dad. I look at each person and then back to Tyree, but his face is the same.

I whisper with my eyes on my feet. “Who is that standing at the aisle?” Maybe if I focus on my sparkling white heels, this will all make sense.

Riss looks over her shoulder and back to me. “That’s Tyree. Your fiancé and soon-to-be husband.”

Her tone is matter-of-fact. It’s secure without question. My stomach drops like I’m on a roller coaster, and I lean to the side. I change my view from Rissa to the groom standing at the end of the aisle with his groomsmen lined up behind him.

“But—but it’s not. I don’t know what this is. Where is Tyree?” I ask, looking to see if he’s playing a joke on me.

“Pumpkin, what’s wrong?” My dad takes my arms and stares down into my eyes. I lean over again, and the man at the end of the carpet throws up one hand with a smile I’ve never seen before. It’s boyish and sweet, with a hint of mischief tucked just underneath.

“Where is Tyree, and who the hell is he?” As the questions slip past my lips, my vision gets blurry. The edges are peppered with a haze before the entire picture is black.