Battered Not Broken (17 page)

“Are you sure we’re welcome to attend?” Ally asked. “I mean, it’s not family and close friends only, is it?” Melissa had only invited her and Maria to the party the day before.

“No way.” Melissa shook her head. “You know my sister – she loves big parties. If a lot of people don’t show up, she doesn’t feel important.” She laughed, the sound carrying down the street, rich as always.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Of course I am. Besides, you’ve known Trisha for a couple years now.”

More as an acquaintance than a friend, but Ally didn’t point that out.

“And nobody would turn you two away as long as you’re in possession of those enchiladas, trust me.”

Ally had helped her mother make them that morning in preparation for Melissa’s sister’s bridal shower. Most of the guests had volunteered to pitch in by bringing dishes, since the party was as last-minute as it could get. Trisha had gotten engaged to her long-time boyfriend before he’d deployed and they’d promised to marry when he returned from a tour of duty as a soldier in the Army Reserve. They planned to tie the knot in a couple days with a simple ceremony that only a few close family members would attend.

“Plus, the actual wedding is going to be so small that she’ll need this to balance it out. Simple isn’t really Trisha’s style – that’s how we know she really loves Mike. She wouldn’t be so excited about their plans if she didn’t.”

Melissa knocked at the front door.

Almost immediately, it was answered by her sister. “Come on in,” Trisha said, beaming. “The party’s just getting started.”

Inside, the house was full bordering on crowded. Music blasted from a stereo in the living room – the kind it was almost impossible not to dance to.

“I’ll take care of this for you.” An unfamiliar woman swooped down on them like a hawk, scooping the enchilada dish out of Ally’s arms. “Ooh, still nice and warm. Good – we’ve got about half a dozen dishes already waiting to be heated in the oven. I’ll put this one right on the counter.”

The front door opened directly into the living room. In one corner, there was a folding table piled high with gifts. Maria made a beeline for it and added the giftwrapped box she’d been carrying to the stack. Inside was an appliance that cooked rice and steamed meat and vegetables – a gift from her and Ally.

“How about some punch?” Melissa asked, gazing in the direction of the kitchen.

Ally didn’t see a punch bowl, or any sign of drinks, really, but Melissa was so much taller that she could probably see everything.

“Sure.”

Melissa made her way into the kitchen, obviously familiar with its layout, and began to navigate her way through the maze of harried women jockeying to get their dishes warmed up in the oven or the microwave. A minute or two later, she emerged carrying two cardboard cups.

“Mamá, did you want some?” Ally turned to find herself talking to empty space.

Melissa caught Ally’s eye and tipped her head in the direction of the living room couch, where Maria had settled down and was obviously in conversation with Melissa’s mother.

“So.” Melissa took a step toward Ally, closing the space between them. The music was loud enough that at that distance, they’d be able to speak to each other without being overheard by anyone else. “Tell me about your night with Ryan.”

The punch lingering on Ally’s tongue tasted doubly-sweet at the sound of Ryan’s name. She swallowed it, a wave of nervousness rippling through her middle as it slid into her stomach. “How did you know?”

“I tried calling you on Saturday morning. You didn’t answer, so I called your home phone. Your mom told me you were with him.”

Ally hadn’t answered because she’d been having sex with Ryan at the time. She’d left her phone in his kitchen and had seen the missed call later. When she’d called Melissa back later that day, Melissa hadn’t said anything about her and Ryan’s night together. Now, it was obvious that she’d been waiting to get the scoop in person.

“It wasn’t what you think,” Ally said. “Well, it was. But not at first.”

Melissa raised one finely-shaped brow, holding her punch cup to lips that looked ready to smile.

“He got sick while we were out – really sick. A migraine. I drove him home and ended up staying the night at his apartment because I was afraid to leave him there alone, especially after he fell and cut his head open on a counter corner.” Her blood ran momentarily cold at the thought of his wound and the feeling of helplessness that had besieged her when she’d realized he’d been hurt.

“Was he better in the morning?”

“Yeah, thank God.”

“And then…”

Ally swallowed another mouthful of punch. “We slept together.”

“So, you took care of him and then the next morning you got together when he was better. Sort of like a wounded soldier scenario.” Melissa waggled her eyebrows up and down suggestively.

Something sharp sliced through Ally’s memories of her and Ryan’s morning together. “Not soldier, marine.”

“Huh? I didn’t mean to pry
that
far. I mean, if you two want to role-play that’s fine, but—”

Ally fought the sudden urge to laugh – a surprise, given the stab of melancholiness remembering Ryan’s scars had caused. “No. I mean, he was a marine up until nine months ago.”

“Wow. You know… I bet he looked amazing in uniform.”

“Probably.” The thought of him in dress blues or fatigues was a turn on, until she thought of him getting caught in the blast of an IED. She’d rather see him safe in gym shorts any day – not that that wasn’t sexy as well.

“Hey, you two.” Trisha appeared behind Melissa, laying a hand on her sister’s shoulder. Her bright pink lacquered nails stood out against Melissa’s grey sweater, almost as loud as the music. They were synthetic – years of expertise made it easy for Ally to tell, though they’d been applied well. “We’re about to start a game while we wait for the food to be ready.”

Everyone gathered in the living room – quite a feat considering the fact that nearly a dozen more people had arrived while Ally and Melissa had been talking.

Melissa and Trisha’s mother ran the game – a version of bingo that promised to launch the party into new levels of noisiness. Everyone was given a card with squares that were marked with phrases like ‘cousin’, ‘highschool classmate’ or ‘fellow shoe connoisseur’. The object of the game was to mingle and find attendees who matched the description, then mark the corresponding spot on the card.

Ally and Melissa worked as a team.

“Look,” Melissa said, pointing slightly to the left. “Shoe connoisseur right there. Her feet have got to be killing her.”

The woman she was pointing at wore strappy high-heeled sandals in a glittering shade of midnight blue.

“Right.” Ally nodded, knowing Melissa shared her feelings toward shoes, which were that if they weren’t comfortable, they weren’t worth wearing. The pain caused by narrow stiletto heels like the type their target was wearing was just too much to put up with, except for maybe on very special occasions.

When they approached the woman, she gladly spent several minutes showing off her footwear, rattling off the name of a designer Ally didn’t recognize.

Melissa nodded, assuring the woman they were gorgeous. She probably recognized the brand name, thanks to Trisha – an incurable shoe collector.

“Okay, cousin is easy,” Melissa said. “There are at least eight in this room.”

Despite their teamwork, neither Ally nor Melissa reached bingo.

The winner was one of the cousins Melissa had identified. She gladly accepted her prize of scented body lotion, lifting it into the air like a trophy.

“These are going to be the most intense bridal shower games you’ve ever seen,” Melissa spoke into Ally’s ear. “We’ve got four cousins who are the exact same age as Trisha – they used to fight like sisters all the time when they were younger. And they’re all competitive.”

The signs of heated competition were already in the air – several women that must’ve been the aforementioned cousins teased the winner, vowing to defeat her at the next game. Trisha was egging them on, wearing a broad grin.

Melissa shrugged. “I’m not getting caught up in that. Better to buy my own lotion than go head-to-head with them.”

The rivalry was suspended when the food was declared ready. The kitchen counters had been converted into a giant, winding buffet, and it was almost surprising that the table didn’t cave beneath the dozen or so dishes and platters that had been spread across every inch of its surface.

When everyone had eaten, the games resumed.

“Time for our toilet paper wedding dress challenge.” Melissa’s mother turned to Ally and Melissa. “Will you girls help me fetch the toilet paper? I stocked up on about two-dozen rolls.”

“Sure.” Ally did her best to mask her confusion. Toilet paper wedding dress challenge?

“I know it sounds weird,” Melissa said, as if she’d read Ally’s mind. “But it really is fun seeing what people come up with. We played it at my cousin’s bridal shower last year.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Melissa’s mother led them to the bathroom, opened the closet and began pulling down extra-large packages of toilet paper. “Triple-ply,” she said with a wry smile. “Last year Trisha and one of her cousins got into it because one claimed the other stepped on the hem of her team’s dress, tearing it on purpose. I was forced to declare a draw.”

Melissa shot Ally a sardonic expression as her mother handed her a package of the stuff. “It’s true.”

When Ally was given her own package, she tucked it under her arm and filed out of the bathroom behind the other two women. She was nearly to the end of the hallway when she glimpsed movement beyond an open bedroom door – Trisha.

She was sitting on the edge of what seemed to be her bed, her back to the door.

“Hey, Trisha.” Ally ducked inside the room, balancing her triple-ply burden against her hip like she would a laundry basket. “What are you doing in here? We’re getting ready to play a game.”

“Huh?” Trisha turned, seemingly snapping out of her own little world. There was a half-finished plate of food beside her on the bed – she must have slipped into her room after visiting the buffet. “Oh, are we getting ready for the toilet paper wedding dress competition?” A brief glimmer of something – competitiveness, maybe – passed through her eyes, but her expression was unusually somber.

“Yeah. And I’ve been told the paper is triple-ply this year.”

“Good. Last year we had the thin economy stuff and my cousin pulled a cheap trick – stepped on the hem of my team’s dress accidentally.” She used one hand to make air quotes, rolling her eyes and smiling as she placed emphasis on the last word. She clutched something else in her other hand, her brightly-lacquered nails practically glowing against the duller colors of glossy pamphlets.

Trisha rose, laying them down on the bed and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Is everything all right?” Trisha was shorter than her little sister – just an inch or so taller than Ally. As they stood nearly eye-to-eye, it was easy to see that Trisha’s expression wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as it had been at the beginning of the party.

Trisha shrugged and waved one hand, gesturing toward the bed. “I guess I picked a bad time to take a look at those pamphlets. They’ve got me a little nervous.”

Ally’s gaze drifted toward the pamphlets. One featured a picture of a man in desert camo fatigues – an army uniform, it looked like. On impulse, Ally picked it up, her thoughts skipping instantly to Ryan and what he might have looked like in a similar uniform.

“Someone gave those to me the other day – the wife of one of Mike’s buddies. I guess things might be harder than I thought. I mean, not that I didn’t know, but… I guess I’m just not sure what to expect.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I came in here to grab something and ended up reading instead.”