Chapter 7
Elle
“Ow,” whined a young teenage girl.
“Ivy, stop pulling on the strap like that, you're hurting your cousin,” a mother scolded.
“Oof,” complained a bride, being knocked off her balance.
“Angelica, you're pulling her over!” Shouted the mother again.
“Mom! Stop yelling at us!” The complaint came from an older teenage girl.
Elle was being pulled back and forth as her aunt Viviana and her children Angelica and Ivy helped her to put on her wedding dress. It was the same one her mother wore, and while she was otherwise more slender than her mother had been, her hips were wider and her breasts bigger.
After much grunting, tugging, pulling, and angry sighing, the women finally worked the slim dress over her hips. While Elle had always wanted a poofy, princess style dress for her wedding, there was no time to commission one that would fit correctly.
“Oh, don't you just look beautiful,” Aunt Viviana began to sniffle. “You look just like Selena did when she married your dad. You know, their marriage was an arranged one, too.”
Elle's mouth dropped. “No way. They always told me they met while on vacation in Alaska!”
“Well, that's true too. They met there completely by coincidence, but after they found out that they were to be married, they realized it must have been fate.”
Elle felt sick. So her mother had known about the arrangement, probably. “So their marriage was a fraud.”
“No, dear. You can't say that. They came to truly love one another. It took time, and many fights, but their marriage was real. It was as real as my marriage to Blaine. Perhaps more real, since your parents didn't have to solve things with drinks...” She wiped away an unhappy tear then. “And if they hadn't loved each other before then, they loved each other once they had you. They became pregnant with you before the one year stipulation was up. Once you were part of the equation, they became the perfect couple you remember.”
“I can't believe this.” Elle sat down on the couch helpfully put into the room by the priest. Viviana sat down with her, taking her hands and holding them, looking into her eyes earnestly. Her daughters looked on, watching them.
“You must believe me. It wasn't the perfect start to a marriage, but it's good enough. Don't just push your new husband away for no reason. He might surprise you, and you might surprise yourself. And, anyway, every marriage is the smallest component of civilization. When a marriage collapses, so does a small part of civilization.”
Great, so now I have the continuation of civilization on my shoulders. Elle took a few deep breaths. “I'm going to need to take my anti-anxiety meds for this. Could you grab them for me from my purse, Ivy?”
Her cousin nodded and brought them to her, plus her bottle of water. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the couch. Viviana shooed her daughters out to go sit in the pews while Elle waited for her pills to take effect.
There was so much to think about. So much to process. She couldn't believe that her parents, with their perfect marriage with so few fights, had started off with a forced wedding. Had they been blackmailed with money, too?
It all seemed so incredibly unfair. Not just the marriage. Not just the chance of losing her house. It was unfair that she had to change everything she knew about her parents. She wanted to scream and cry, stamping her feet, but Angelica had done so nice with her makeup and she didn't want to ruin it.
So she kept quiet, silently furious.
The wedding went as few weddings do, though it followed the same steps. She walked down the aisle. She didn't cry. There was no father to walk with her, so she walked alone, her chin high and her back straight.
One thing did knock on her stubborn confidence, though. The way that Troy looked at her. It was like his eyes were filled with awe, devotion, pure love… even though their marriage wasn't real. The wedding wasn't real. She was flattered at first, but then hatred took over. She hated him for looking at her like that, mocking her pain. Elle seriously considered punching him in the face.
Their vows were short:
“I'll do my best,” she said.
“I'll care for you, protect you, as long as you allow me,” he said.
And then they were off, like a whirlwind, forced into the back of a limo their Grandma Rosa had insisted on. Even Grandma Ina had hated the idea, calling it gauche. The ride was awkward and silent, with both of them staring out of their windows.
Finally, the silence was too much for her. “I'm glad this will be over soon. I hate being the center of attention. My anxiety medication is going to wear off soon.”
He looked at her, again with that sappy look in his eyes. His hand shot out and took hers, squeezing it. “I had no idea you were dealing with anxiety. I'm so sorry. If I can –”
“You can't do anything about it. I've had it my whole life.” She felt bad for cutting him off. “Thanks for asking, though. I just… want to go home as soon as I can.”
“Got it. I'll look for a way out, even if it's rude.”
Gratitude washed through her. She smiled, looking out her window again with a small, “Thanks.”
Italiana was Elle's mother's favorite restaurant. It was also the only restaurant that would allow such a small group reserve their room for parties. It was a small, family owned restaurant near to Elle's house.
“Is the food here good?” Troy asked, helping her out of the limo. Her shoes had given her blisters after walking around in them for the wedding.
“It's not bad. It's not authentic or anything, but it's authentic Americanized Italian food. My mom liked it.” She smiled at the memories of Sunday dinners with her parents at that restaurant, where all of the staff and most of the customers were members of the same church as her family. The restaurant was like family, for a while. Until she stopped going to church when her parents both died.
He nodded, holding her hand as he led the way into the restaurant. She tried her best to keep her fingers from trembling. Inside, he blocked the restaurant's view of her with his body, taking most of the attention from her.
She was so thankful, so incredibly grateful for that tiny mercy.
In the room, Aunt Viviana and Uncle Blaine were both already working on getting drunk. Rosa and Ina had also had some champagne and were thoroughly getting on each others nerves.
“Are you going to drink tonight?” He whispered to her.
She shook her head. “No. I don't want to make things worse.”
“Then I won't, either.”
They all sat at one table, since their party was so small, and were served huge plates of spaghetti and pizza. Elle ate timidly, listening to Troy and Jack chat with one another but never really talking to anyone else.
Then the ritual started. Troy's aunt Stephanie started to clink her glass, encouraging the bride and groom to kiss. They looked at one another, both like deer in the headlights.
“What do we do?” Elle squeaked.
“I guess we kiss. Take a deep breath.”
She did, and he moved in close. His warmth was upon her before his lips touched hers. It was a brief, but sweet, kiss. Aunt Stephanie and Aunt Viviana both let out a happy sigh.
“So sweet.”
“What a beautiful couple.”
“They'll make beautiful babies!”
Elle tried to eat more, but she had completely lost her appetite. The glasses clinked again. Troy waited for her, but she couldn't do it. Not even once more.
She stood from the table, running to the woman's bathroom. The room behind her was silent as she left.
Get it together, Elle, she thought. Looking at herself in the mirror, her eyes didn't show half of the pain she was feeling inside. Her heart thumping. Her hands shaking like an earthquake. Her chest hurt, her throat tightened.
The door opened, and she expected it to be one of the aunts. Or one of the grandmas. Hell, even Troy.
She didn't expect it to be Jack, looking like a predator as he stepped closer. His big shoulders seemed tense, his hands reaching towards her slightly. Every step he moved closer to her made her more sure that she didn't want him anywhere near her.
“Um, this is the women's...” She whispered, meekly. He grinned, licking his lips.
“I know.” He stepped closer still, pressing her against the wall. Taking her arms, he pinned them above her and pressed his rough lips against hers. “You taste so sweet. You don't have to be scared. I know that wedding was a fraud, so it's fine if you want to have some fun with me.”
“I don't!” She said, trying to pull away. He was too strong for her, though, and held her in place with only one hand holding her wrists. The other reached down and tore the sleeve of her dress away from the body, revealing her bra.
“Oh, you don't have to lie when we're alone. Come on. Give in.” His leg pushed between hers, pressing up against her mound. “Let me fuck you.”
“No!” She screamed. “Get the hell off of me!” She struggled in vain to get away until they were both shocked by a loud crash.
Troy
Troy had a bad feeling as soon as Jack stood up. “Where are you going?” He asked.
“Gotta piss, dude.” Jack gave him a flippant grin and left his sight. That feeling wouldn't go away, though. It grew in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to doubt his friend, but his gut was screaming at him to follow! Go see if Elle is okay! Make sure Jack isn't doing something horrible!
Maybe he was just being paranoid because of their weird conversations about women. Troy just never saw Jack as that guy. The kind of guy that uses women like they're sex toys more than people.
After the wedding, Troy knew he probably wouldn't be spending much more time with Jack. Which was sad. They were really close, really good friends, but this wasn't something he could overlook.
It was one thing to be addicted to sex, to have one night stands and never settle down. It was another thing entirely to expect them to want to be used by you, to basically see them as toys that could be bent to your will.
Troy was drinking away his rage when he heard the shout.
“… Off of me!” The words were quiet, just barely able to be heard over the loud laughter of the drunk old women. It was immediately obvious to him that it was Elle's voice, though. Her scream, plus Jack being gone. He shot up, running towards the sound. The women's bathroom.
He kicked the door in with his powerful legs and saw Elle pressed up against the wall, with Jack looking over his shoulder at Troy.
“Troy! Help, please!” She cried. Elle was struggling to get her hands free, but Jack had her pinned hard.
With a deft grip on his friend's collar and a quick twist, he threw him to the ground and was on him in a second, his fist hitting its mark every time. Right in Jack's fucking nose, then his cheek, then his mouth. His first blow broke his nose.
“She wanted me, man! You shouldn't have come in!” Jack coughed between punches. A waiter ran in then, thin but with some muscle on him.
“You,” Troy said, pointing at the waiter. “Get this piece of shit out of my wedding. Now. And then clean up his blood from the floor.”
He stepped away from Jack, who was nursing his face and groaning in pain. Looking behind him, Troy saw Elle cowering on the floor, still pressed against the wall. The top of her dress was torn, revealing her breast. “I thought today couldn't get any worse,” she cried through hiccups and sobs.
The comment stung. What was so vile about him that made her hate him? But it wasn't the right time to address that. He went to her, pulling her into his arms after covering her breast.
He couldn't hold it in anymore. “Why do you do that?” He whispered, watching the waiter pull Jack to his feet and then from the room.
“Do what?” She asked, her voice miserable. Troy didn't know if he wanted to slap her to bring her to her senses, or kiss her in the hopes that it would heal her emotional wounds.
“Why do you shut people out and sabotage yourself? I'm not here to hurt you, and yet you're still insulting me.” He truly felt hurt. Pissed, yes, but also hurt.
“I'm not,” she protested, looking up. Her eyes were read, her nose running.
He sighed. “Then you must really hate me, if the insults are unconscious.”
She pulled away. “I don't hate you!” Then, more quietly, “I really don't. I just don't know how to act around you.”
“Then prove it, Elle. I don't like playing this game with you. You have to choose, you're either going to be hot or cold. Not alternating every day, based on some whim that even you don't understand. It's not fair to me, and I don't think it's fair to you, either.”
She looked into his eyes for a long time, then inched slowly closer to him. She pressed her lips against his, and unlike the kiss during the wedding, or the one the aunts coaxed out of them, her lips weren't tight across her face, cold. They were warm and inviting, soft and sweet.
His tongue slipped between her lips. She allowed it, sliding hers against it with a giggle. “I've never done that,” she said into his mouth.
“Let's do it again, then.” So they did. For a long time, they sat in that bathroom and kissed. Then Troy pulled away and stood up, scooping her into his arms. She giggled again.
“What are you doing?” She asked, smiling. Her tears were gone.
“We're leaving early. Let the old ladies get drunk. We're going home.”