Happye - Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Life sometimes throws a curveball. Tell me about it. I’ve just been thrown the biggest curveball of the season. Here I am on my way to Elgin, Illinois to one of my sister’s useless parties, in a luxury sports car driven by Chicago’s most notorious playboys. It that’s not a curveball I don’t know what is.

“So, Dennis tells me you’re an event planner.” Is he talking to me? He is actually trying to make conversation with me. I guess it would make the drive seem less long and dreadful if we didn’t endure most of it in silence. “What is that like?”

Say something cleaver, say something sophisticated. “I don’t know. It’s just a job.” Great job, Happye. You’ll easily make his list of the most interesting people he ever had the privilege to share time with. “I mean, it is kind of exciting, meeting new people.”

“You must go to the raddest parties in the state.” Did he say ‘raddest’? Is that even a word? “I can imagine all the connections that are right there at your fingertips.”

“I don’t really attend the parties that I plan. Yeah, I show up to make sure that everything is okay, but I mostly stay in the kitchen. I don’t socialize at them.”

“Why the hell not? I know they don’t make you spend the evening with the servants?”

“No, they don’t. I just feel more comfortable doing that than making small talk with people I don’t know.”

“So, you are the quiet type.” The man’s smile should be considered a crime in forty-eight states. It was positively lethal. “I like you more and more.”

It has been so long since a man told me that he liked me, my face redden with embarrassment and delight. I can’t find anything coherent to say, so I say nothing. I am still reeling from the fact that he likes me. Maybe this won’t be so bad afterwards.

“Dennis is right. You will make a good wife.”

I assumed a little too prematurely. I have a feeling that this is going to be worse than I thought. “Wife? Ww…..www…wife for whom?”

“For me, of course.”

“I’m a little confused.

“I know that it will be an adjustment in the beginning. I had to adjust myself. I mean, you’re not my usual type. When Dennis told me that you were on the heavy side, I was completely against it. But, now that I’ve had time to talk about it; I agree with him. You will be perfect.”
Did I slip and bump my head? I must be dreaming, please let me be dreaming.

“Perfect? What am I perfect for, exactly?” I still can’t believe this is happening to me. What kind of freaky ass twilight zone did I wake up in?

He has the nerve to give me a look as if I’m the one that have lost the use of my mental facility. “You’re a little slow, huh?” Son of a bit….. “That’s okay. We can work on that.”

I grab hold to the door handle so tight my hand is starting to spasm. He has to be driving 100 miles per hour, but everything is going in slow motion. I let out a long breath and try to get a hold on my emotions. The last thing I want to do is overreact.

Okay, Happye, what is going on? On the surface, it seems as if your brother-in-law pimped you out to this slick playboy. What does that mean? He wants me to be some type of trophy wife? I may be a little ‘slow’ (his words, not mine), but I thought that one of the qualifications of being a trophy wife is to actually be a trophy. There has to be more to this.

“You are exactly what I need right now for my image. Advertisers only want the ‘family man’ type. If I want the good endorsements, then I will have to clean up my image a bit. That is where you will come in.”

I wish he would shut up. The more he talks the sicker I become. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe my sister, the only person in the world that I thought truly cared about me, would do this. Why would she do this?

Don’t cry, Happye; just don’t let him see you cry. ‘Too late’ I say to myself as I feel the tears threatening to spill out of my eye sockets.

He catches my lip quivering and the glistening of tears in my eye. At least he had the decency to look sympathetic. “Don’t worry. I will be completely discreet with my affairs. I won’t embarrass you.”

Astonished, all I can do is stare at him. There are no words; I can’t say anything because there are no words. My mind is completely blank. This jackass has stunned me into utter silence. If there ever was a time to disappear, it would be now.

“Oh, and I will save some of the Whitmore lovin’ for you too. I don’t have a problem doing fat chicks. More cushion for the pushing, you know what I’m saying.”

‘Shut up, just shut up right now before I take off my boot and bludgeon you to death, you jerk.’ Okay those are words, but why can’t I say them out loud. ‘Speak up, Happye. Open your mouth and take up for yourself for once.’

No matter how many inspirational speeches I give myself on the ride over, I don’t say anything. I sit there like a crying stone statue while this man keeps sprouting off how much my life will improve once I married him. He doesn’t even know me and he is talking about how many kids I think we should have to further his career. And, I say absolutely nothing. I sit there, with tears streaming down my face and unable to breathe, and try to hide within myself. ‘Please make me invisible.’

We arrive to my sister’s two-level brick home. He gets out and is heading around my side to open the door for me. I give him no time to get there before I bolt out of the car and speed-walk to the house. I hear him laughing behind me and all I want to do is hit him over the head with a shovel and bury his beautiful body in this foot of snow. I’ll probably need more snow for his enormous ego. ‘Where is a snow storm when you need one?”

I press on the door bell with abandonment, praying that Joie hurry up and open the door before ‘that man’ gets any closer. I feel him just behind and I press harder. He put his hand in the small of my back just as the door opens, and I nearly jump out of my tight black dress. I push whoever it was that opened the door out of the way and rushes to the upstairs bathroom. The last thing I needed right now is to break down in front of Joie’s pretentious guest.

I barely had time to close the door behind me before violent sobs racked my body. Bending over as in immense pain, I clinch the edge of the sink for support. My body, so heavy with emotion, slowly sinks to the floor for my legs could no longer support me. I hear the music and laughter below, but I can only think of my pain. At that point I knew that I would never leave that bathroom.

I haven’t cried like this in such a long time I thought I was immune to getting this type of deep hurt ever again. This breakdown was long overdue. Once I open the floodgates, it will take nothing less than a miracle, or death, to close them again. Deep down I know that this wasn’t just because of John, but for all the misery I had been feeling lately. This is a cry for the loneliness I’m subjected to day after day. This is a cry for the fact that my parents doesn’t even acknowledge me if it’s not directed tied to something about Joie. This is a cry for kids that laughed at me this morning. This is a cry for the fact that my sister felt that I wouldn’t ever find love that wasn’t falsely portrayed for photo-ops to ensure my fake husband’s endorsement deals.

A slight tap on the door and I sink further onto the floor. If it was humanly possible, I would melt into this very expensive tile and cease to exist. There is another knock and I want to scream; to yell and tell the person who is trying to interrupt my emotional breakdown to go away. To leave me to my tears; but they don’t give up. A couple more knocks and I hear my sister’s voice coming through the door.

“Happye, are you okay.”

I ignore her. At this moment, she isn’t my only sister. Right now, she isn’t my only friend; the one person that I thought would never intentionally hurt me. But she did; she hurt me far more than anyone ever did. She knows me. She had to have known that selling me to that jerk would be a major blow to my sanity, heart, and self-esteem.

“Happye, open the door sweetheart.”

That person outside the door, calling my name, I don’t know her. She is not my sister. My Joie wouldn’t do this to me. She would want the best for me. My Joie, who considered me as her happiness, would want to be the same to me. My Joie would have taken one look at that jerk and told him to stay away from her sister. My Joie wouldn’t have done this.

“Happye, why did you come all the way out here just to lock yourself in the bathroom?” What? What did she think I would do after being set up like that? “Will you stop being such a drama queen and come on down to the party?”

This makes me angry. How dare she pretend as if everything is all honky-dory? What right does she have?

Drawing energy from my anger, I rise off the floor and snatch the door open with abandonment. At least she had the decency to look worried at my tear-stained face. I grab her arm and pulled her into the bathroom, locking the door once again.

“How the hell did you think I would feel, Joie?” I say between escaped sobs. “Am I supposed to be smiling and down there celebrating my new engagement?”

“What are you talking about? Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t you ‘sweetie’ me, you…you traitor.” I want to hit something. I could never hit my sister in a million years, so I turn my back to her and cradle my head in my hands. “I’ve never been more humiliated in my entire life.”

“Happye, calm down and tell me what happened. Did John do something to you?” I turn to look at her and all I saw were confusion and concern. My Joie isn’t this good of an actress. “What did he say to you?”

“Oh, don’t sit here and act like you didn’t sell me out.”

“Sell you out, how?”

“Marry him, Joie? You expect me to marry him to clean up his image? I know I haven’t dated in a while but even I wouldn’t stoop that low for a wedding ring.” I notice my voice rising with every word and I don’t care.

“Marry him? What….wait, what?”

“Joie, stop the innocent act.”

“It’s not an act. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Then, why did you send him to pick me up?”

“It was Dennis’ idea. He thought that it would be better for you to get a ride here. He said John have to pass right by your place on his way here, so I thought it would be a good idea. Knowing John, I thought that he would have some model or stripper with him and I thought that you would be fine in the backseat. I thought that they wouldn’t even notice you; that’s how you like it, right?”

I stare at her for a moment trying to decipher if she was telling the truth. Deep down, I know Joie; she wouldn’t do this to me. I decide that she is just as ignorant to the situation as I was. Joie was innocent, but someone is at fault for this. I’m putting my money on her husband, Dennis.

“Happiness, start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”

Tears forgotten, I calm down long enough to give her a full count of the conversation in the car. By the end, she’s enraged. I blockade the door to keep her from going downstairs and killing both John and Dennis. Even though watching my sister strangle two of the Bears star players would bring me an immense amount of joy, I don’t think I can explain to my niece why her mother is in jail for killing her daddy.

“Ahh, I can’t believe those two. He actually had the nerve to say that he would keep his affairs secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Jackass!”

“That was my sentiments exactly.”

We both look at each other for a minute before bursting out with hysterical laughter. The thought that he was serious and thought that I would jump at the opportunity was quite funny after I had time to calm down. The ego of some men is unbelievable; they truly think that God would consider them as a gift to women.

“Oh, Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” Joie says, laughter still coloring her features. “If I had known I wouldn’t have let that jerk within 50 feet of you.”

See, this is my Joie. “I know.”

She gives me a hug, and once again, I feel safe and protected and loved. “Are you okay?”

“Now, I am.” I say, pulling back from her embrace. “Sorry about the breakdown.”

“You don’t dare apologize for that. You had every right to.”

I nod and stare down at my enclosed hands. “I just felt so helpless about the situation. A part of me was hurt. A part of me was angry. But, there was also a part of me who thought that this was as good as it was going to get for me. That I should jump at this opportunity because it will be the only one I will ever receive.”

“Don’t think like that. Of course you will find love one day. You just have to put yourself out there. You are so closed up and you shy away from any lasting human contact.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and guides me to the edge of her large garden tub to sit. “John, and what he offers, is not the best there will be.”

I want to believe her, but past experience tells me otherwise. “What if he is, Joie? Men aren’t exactly beating down my door. I’m not beautiful like you.”

Once again, she gets to her feet. “Get up,” she demands, “and come here.” I go to stand beside her in front of the spacious, wall-length mirror. “What do you see?”

“Is this a trick question?” I joke, trying to lighten the situation. I don’t like looking in the mirror. I like standing next to her, looking in the mirror, even less.

“Seriously, look at yourself and tell me what you see.”

I look in the mirror again and notice our reflections. In some ways, we look very much alike. We have the same long, jet-black hair and tight, slanted hazel eyes. Our bronze honey complexions were identical. In other ways, we were entirely different. Her features were toned and beautiful, while mine, embroidered with chubbiness, seem stretched and unattractive.

“I see a poor and fat substitute of you.” I say honestly.

“Do you want to know what I see?” I nod, urging her to continue. “I see my very attractive baby sister whose heart is just as beautiful as she is. I see a woman who isn’t aware how valuable she is and doesn’t know her true potential. I see a woman who any man would be lucky to call his wife.”

I stare hard at myself and say in a small voice, “Why don’t I see what you see?”

“Because you’re too focused on the negative. All you see is your weight, but none of the good stuff.” I think this over and look back at my reflection, trying hard to see anything positive staring back at me. “Happye, if you are so unhappy about being overweight, why don’t you change it?”

“You really think I should?”

“It doesn’t matter what I, or anyone else, thinks. All that matters is how you feel about yourself.”

I look at her and picture how I would look without the excessive weight. Then, I would be beautiful and men would desire me the same way they desire her. I wouldn’t have to deal with men like John who thought it was a privilege to be offered a loveless marriage. I wouldn’t have to deal with people laughing at me or pitying me. People would be honored to sit next to me on the train.

“People, especially men, would love me.” I say wishfully, partly to myself and partly out loud.

“Don’t do this for some misconception of how you think people will feel about you. Do it for yourself; for your own self-esteem and health.” I hear her talking but I can only focus on what my life would be like if I looked more like her. I would find happiness then, and only when I’ve achieved my desired weight.

“I’ll do it.” I say determinedly, still in a wishful state.

“Good for you.” Joie says, thinking I am taking her words to heart for myself and not because I desire the acceptance of others. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“Would you? It is so far out of the way.”

“Well, it’s my fault you are here in the first place. Plus, on the ride home, we can devise our payback on John. And Dennis, of course.” She gives an evil villain laugh, the kind that you only hear in old movies and Disney cartoons. I laugh with her and we both exits the bathroom.
What would I do without my sister, I don’t know. She is my strength and my smile. She is all I have, and I would die blessed if I never have anyone else in my life. She is my joy. And when life throws that curveball, and I swing too hard and lands in the dirt on my face, she is right behind me, ready to pick me up and dust me off.