Click. 

Six years. A six-year relationship ended in a two-minute phone call. The news caused a whiplash so severe I forgot where I was, or what I was doing. My surroundings were muffled, and at that moment I was a million miles away from civilization. An announcement over the intercom jolted me from my trance. 

"Bakery 2-0-0. Bakery 2-0-0. Thank you." The distorted, monotone voice crackled. 

Suddenly I was back in the frozen foods section, a black shopping basket in my hands. I glanced down to see what I had picked out: a head of lettuce, disinfectant wipes, and a two-pack of Dove deodorant. I set the basket down carefully and stumbled out of the store without looking back. 

Once in the safety of my car, I was sure the tears would come. I prepared myself for the meltdown to end all meltdowns, for sobs so heart-wrenching and severe that someone may call the police. Minutes passed, it never came. Instead, I turned the key in the ignition, backed out of the parking space, and drove home in complete silence. 

Home. The safest place I could imagine. Surely here, I would allow myself to weep and wallow in my own despair. Maybe order enough food to feed a family of 6, turn on a Mitski album and cry until my face swelled like a red balloon. Even here, however, the tears never came. I sat in silence, staring at my own reflection on my locked phone until a notification startled me awake. 

"Angie said she'd pick up my things. Does tomorrow work for you?" The message read, under a now-mocking red heart emoji. I had to read the message twice to fully process it, before I was possessed by my functional self and responded. 

"Sure. Have her text me when." 

Angie. I couldn't recall the policy of hanging out with your ex's sister. I wasn't sure if she'd hate me or not, but I was positive our days of binge-watching reality TV together were now over. The realization of having to collect his things for tomorrow made my stomach churn. 

I figured I had to reach out to somebody. I sent a quick text to my best friend, Ryan, and the phone rang not even a minute later. 

"He did what?! Why? When? How??" He yelled through the speaker.

 I explained his reasoning, or what I could remember from our one-sided conversation. Ryan was fuming, and I  could imagine him pacing back and forth in his dorm room. 

"How dare he?! After everything you've done for him! What a scumbag, what a slime ball, screw that guy! I never liked him!" From his reaction, you'd think Ryan was the one who just got dumped. I listened silently as he went on, listing all the ways that my ex annoyed or enraged him over the last six years. Finally, his voice went soft and maternal. 

"Oh sweetie, how do you feel? You must be miserable." He sighed, a complete 180 from the vengeful tirade just a few moments ago. I sat with the question for a second, before opening my cotton dry mouth. 

"I feel...like I should send his birthday gift back." I glanced at the brown cardboard box in the corner, still sealed from its country of origin. "It was expensive...I could use the money." 

"Well, yeah! In fact, send him a bill for the shipping costs, too. It serves him right for wasting your time!" He yelled into the receiver, before dropping his voice again. "Is there anything you need, hon? Ice cream, chocolate?" 

“Actually,” I responded, sitting up. "I totally forgot about Mandy's wedding. We already RSVP'd. It's in two weeks, do you think you could come instead? I... I don't want to go alone." I felt vulnerable, the first twinge of sadness hitting me in between the ribs. 

"Oh honey, I wish I could, but I have rehearsals that week.” He went quiet for a moment, which was unlike him. “I guess I could miss one day. Yeah, I'll blow it off, no sweat." 

"No, no." I assured him. "I'll be fine. Don't skip rehearsals because of me." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah I'll..." I trailed off, staring at the brown box again. "I'll figure something out." 

We said our goodbyes, with promises of ice cream and wine this coming weekend, and I was in complete silence once again. 

The next few days were a blur. I had to call everyone to break the news, which eroded my patience and sanity with each "Are you okay?". Mutual friends reached out to comfort me, but I knew which ones had chosen 'sides' by the way they addressed the breakup. Although our split was civil, he was always the favorite out of the both of us. 

Breaking the news to my mother was like pulling teeth. 

"I thought he was your person!” She sobbed. I wondered if she misunderstood me, and I had accidentally delivered news of his death. "And there was nothing you could do?? Oh dear, oh whyyy.." 

"Mom," I scrubbed the dishes as she cried over my phone's speaker, droplets of water landing on the black screen. "It's going to be okay.” 

"My baby, my baby..” 

Did she mean me or him? I thought silently as she wailed. 

"I'm going to call him, let me call him, I can fix this." 

"NO!" I shouted, louder than I intended. I heard a sniffle on the other side. 

"Oh sweetie... you must be torn up over this." 

I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand, and shut off the sink. 

"Listen, mom," I started, a dribble of water running down the bridge of my nose. "Can I call you tomorrow? I have some errands to run." 

"Of course, sweetie." She blew her nose, too close to the receiver. "Don't forget to pick up a nice dress for the wedding. Nothing white, not too much cleavage." 

I rolled my eyes. "I know, mom." 

"You know what, I think the best man is single. Do you want me to put in a good word?" 

"Bye, mom!" I exclaimed through gritted teeth, and hung up the phone before she could respond. 

Department stores are a lawless wasteland. The demographic for women's clothing ranges from trendy-teenager, beige-lawyer, and church-grandma. The dress section is especially heinous, where size tags have no meaning and half of the inventory is on the floor. I rifled through endless floral patterns and maxi dresses made for giants, until I picked out a handful of garments that could easily be returned after the wedding. I made my way into the dressing room, where only a thin curtain stood between me and a public indecency citation. I stepped into the first dress, my bare feet tip-toeing the carpet floor (ick), and zipped it up. 

Each dress was worse than the last. Whether they hugged the wrong parts of my body, or hung loosely like a shapeless tent, I questioned my taste in clothing with each garment. Dreading my return to the dress section, or worse, the unknown horrors of the next store, my phone chimed from inside my purse. Desperate for a distraction, I reached for it to check the notification. Facebook Messenger, with an unexpected name popping up on my lockscreen. It was my aunt Pearl. 

"Hey, gumdrop." It read. "Your mom told me about the breakup. Bummer, he was a sweet kid." 

My face flushed red. Good to know my mom was blabbing about me to the whole family; I'm sure looking forward to the wedding, now. I wondered why she was messaging me in the first place. 

"Thanks, Pearl. I'll be okay." I quickly typed back, shutting off my phone and turning to change out of the last dress. My phone chimed once again. 

"Let me know if there's anything I can do. Until then, I'll see you this weekend! :)" 

My brows furrowed at the message. Aunt Pearl was barely around, I hadn't seen her in years. I clicked on her profile, and scrolled through her highly decorated timeline. 

Vacation photos from Paris, Rome, Prague. City lights, gourmet food, sandy beaches and designer clothes. She's always traveling during the holidays, sending postcards and expensive gifts back home from overseas. Last year I got a pack of handmade Italian soaps, which currently collects dust under my sink. 

My mom looks down on her. She says that Pearl has long missed her chance to settle down and have kids, and will soon realize that traveling will never fill the void of being childless and single. Whether that comes from jealousy, horribly outdated religious beliefs, or both, Pearl has always been a topic of gossip in the family. I hoped having her around for the first time in years would take away the heat of my recent breakup. I quickly 'liked' her message, and peeled off the ill-fitting dress like skin from a sausage. 

*** 

Standing in the hotel room, I could no longer procrastinate my descent into the lobby. My makeup took longer than anticipated, having to slather long-expired concealer under my eyes to hide the emerging purple hue. Earlier I made the mistake of greeting my mother pre-makeup, where she informed me of my resemblance to an undead corpse. 

With a newly-revived complexion and hair flat ironed to a crisp, I slipped on the black evening dress I had settled on, along with my staple black heels. My mom sent rapid texts, reminding me of the time as if I had lost the ability to read a clock. With a sigh, I grabbed my purse and stepped out of the room. 

Mandy's wedding enveloped the whole inn, with giant, bustling bouquets of pink and purple flowers spilling into the lobby and banquet room. Huge signs, declaring "Amanda and Brian's Wedding" in large, loopy letters pointed guests towards the back garden, where the ceremony is held. As I reluctantly approached the chatter, I wondered if it was too late to fake an illness, and followed the trail of petals and gossip. I was assaulted by hugs and kisses, each family member who greeted me increasingly older and more estranged. I fell into the rhythm of "Hey, how have you been?"s, this time with the added flair of "Yes, I'm okay." when they inevitably brought up my ex. I made a mental note of never bringing my personal life around my family again, as I took my seat on the bride's side of the aisle. 

The ceremony was beautiful. Mandy wore a gigantic, pearl white bridal gown fit for a princess, with embellished icy crystals trailing down her dress like fresh snow in December. She cried, Brian cried, everyone cried at their poetic vows, declaring eternal love and loyalty to one another. I sat still as a rock, smiling widely at the right moments, as I could feel the stray glances of family members around me. If Hell does exist, Mandy's wedding reception had it beat. The empty chair next to me, originally reserved for my ex-boyfriend, hosted an endless rotation of family as they stopped by to greet me. At this point in the night, my cheeks ached from forced grinning, and I had hardly picked at my food. 

Next up in the rotation was my great aunt Mira, drunk since the rehearsal dinner. 

"Ohh dear, I'm so sorry to hear about you and..and.." She waved her red manicured 

hand, nearly knocking over champagne onto the fresh white linen. "Ohh he was so kind, such a loving, sweet soul..You must be absolutely crushed.” 

Splitting pain in my jaw and temples. "Oh, I'll be okay, Mira. Thanks for your concern." 

"There's always more fish in the sea. But, you know, if I lost a man like that, I would be devastated. And sitting through Amanda's beauuutiful wedding, and you're so much older than her-" 

I stood up fast, the decorated chair scraping across the granite floor of the banquet hall. Through my practiced, strained smile I excused myself and walked as fast as my wobbly heels could take me. I didn't stop until the music and chatter faded into quiet thumping in the distance, which landed me in the back garden. The trees and shrubs were illuminated with delicate, twinkling lights, and the chairs from the ceremony were stacked next to the grand floral arch. I brought one down, and slumped into the cold surface, my cheeks flushing in the evening air. I picked up one of the stray brochures, rubbing the dainty lace ribbon in between my fingers. For the first time since everything happened, I could feel the rising sensation of a sob forming in my throat, but nothing came out. Instead, I sighed, and kicked off my heels into the dewey, green grass.

"Oh, good idea.” A voice in the darkness startled me. 

I looked up to see Pearl, smiling widely with her gleaming white veneers. My heart sank, realizing that I had to rinse and repeat more small talk. She pulled down a seat for herself, and kicked off her own heels, her Louboutin's clattering against my Payless. She pulled a cigarette out of her teeny luxury purse, and a lighter, the only two items that seemingly fit in there. She motioned to me, either offering one or requesting permission to smoke, and proceeded to light her cigarette before I could answer. 

"So," The lighter sparked, illuminating half of her face. "Needed to get away, huh?" 

Dry lips stretching back into a smile. "Just some fresh air. Gorgeous wedding, isn't it?" 

She studied me, taking a long drag of her cigarette. 

"Absolutely." Her voice was muffled by the smoke, before blowing it into the night air. I watched the swirling cloud dissipate, gone as quick as it appeared. She smiled again, but didn't speak. 

"I saw you went to New York last week." I offered, breaking the silence. "I want to visit someday, it must have been amazing." 

"Oh, it was." She flicked ash onto the grass, I watched to make sure it didn't ignite. "You should come along sometime, it's been so long since we've spent any time together. When was it last, Christmas? Three years ago?" 

I nodded. "You got me that bottle of wine from Paris. It was delicious, thank you again." In reality, Ryan downed half the bottle on New Year's Eve and passed out on my bathroom floor. 

"Oh, yes." She tapped her chin. "And that was the year you introduced us to your.." 

My face fell. I prepared another excuse to leave, deciding to hide out in the bathroom until dessert. She winced. 

"Sorry, I guess you're tired of hearing about that by now." 

"It's okay." I lied. 

"Did you know I used to be married?" She took another long drag of her cigarette. I blinked in surprise, wondering if I had missed a chapter of the family's gossip rotation. She read my reaction and laughed. 

My face flushed. "Sorry, no, I didn't know that." 

"Well, I never told any of those brats, so that's why." She giggled, tapping the ash into the grass again. I watched for any embers. 

"How long?" 

"Hm.. five and a half days." 

I couldn't try to hide my shock this time, and she leaned back in the chair in delight of my reaction.

"How- I mean, why?" 

Pearl shrugged. "Why not? We were in Vegas after all. What else is there to do?" She brushed her long hair back, her many rings catching the light of the moon. "In all seriousness, I thought he was the one, at least at the time. And those four days- they were bliss." 

"What happened on day five?" 

She shook her head. "Nothing. He was the same man on day four, as the man on day 

one. As the man on day zero." With a wave of her cigarette, she gestured to the decorated garden. 

"Some people live for all of this. The flowers, the lace, the diamonds. A beautiful event emerging from a beautiful story of love. And after all of this?" She grabbed the wedding brochure. "Do you know what comes after?" 

I shook my head no. She grinned. 

"Neither do I. I never made it past the honeymoon." She ground the end of her cigarette onto the side of the chair and dropped it onto the lawn. No flames. “And I don't intend to find out, not now." 

"Because you like to travel?" I asked, and she responded with a shrug. "In that case, why not just marry someone who likes to travel?" 

She reached out and poked my forehead with her nail. "All this wedding business is getting to your head, gumdrop. I don't need to marry, not unless I want to." Another flash of her impossibly white smile. "Then, maybe I will. Who knows?" 

"Even after what happened last time?" I realized how rude that sounded after the words escaped from my mouth. I opened it again to apologize, but Pearl smirked and pointed a finger before I could. 

"You're not too successful in that regard either, chica." I couldn't tell if the jab was lighthearted or not. 

"You're right, I'm sorry." I slumped in my chair. "At least you left voluntarily." 

"No hard feelings. I bet you're sick of talking about it." 

"Sick to death." I exclaimed, louder than I realized. Pearl blinked in surprise. "I mean, it's all anyone can talk about." 

"Didn't mean to poke the bear." She held her hands up. "But you're right, our family loves to hear themselves talk." 

"Tell me about it!" I continued. "All night has been nothing but my ex, I'm so tired of talking about him. Everyone loved him, apparently. It's like, well, sorry I couldn't keep him around!" Pearl nodded, prompting me to continue. 

"Oh, god, it's like having the same conversation over and over again! I'm sick of it. If he was such a good guy, if he was such a great person, well- well." I waved my hands over my head, practically yelling. "What kind of great person ends a six year relationship over the phone?!" 

She stared at me, eyebrows raised. I couldn't bear to look at her at this point, my face hot and hands trembling. 

"I don't understand what I did! He barely gave me a reason, he didn't even let me try to fix things! Everything was going fine, I thought I was a great girlfriend. I guess nothing I ever did was good enough. All of this meant so little to him, and then-" Suddenly, droplets of water hit my knee. 

I looked up in search of rain clouds. As I gazed into the clear, starry night sky, I touched my face. Tears were spilling down my cheeks, involuntarily. I tried to wipe them away with my palms, but the water streamed down faster than I could manage. Before I knew it, I was sobbing into my hands. I hiccuped, bent over with my head between my knees, my hair completely covering my face. My whole body shook as I released two weeks worth of pain and anguish, practically clawing at my shoulders and arms as I unsuccessfully tried to steady myself. I felt like I was dying. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't control my movements. The garden spun around me, my distorted vision hardly making out the blades of grass or flower petals at my feet. There was a horrible, physical ache in my chest, and inhuman whines escaping from my throat. 

I felt my aunt's hand on my back, soothingly combing down my hair as she waited for me to collect myself. Eventually, I did. The tears soon slowed, and finally stopped. I sniffled and wiped tears and snot away with the back of my hands, vision bleary and horribly embarrassed. She offered a tissue from her teeny purse, which I gladly took to wipe off the remainder of my makeup. I looked around to make sure no one watched my meltdown, and finally back at Pearl. She smiled warmly, like a mother would. 

"You have a migraine." She declared, sitting up straight. I sniffled and furrowed my brows at her, confused. 

"You have a migraine and you went upstairs to sleep it off." She stood up, grabbing me by my shoulders and pulling me up as well. She plucked my discount shoes from the grass, and handed them to me. 

"But-" 

"But, nothing. It was a lovely event, and you send your best wishes to the newlyweds." She winked. "Now, up to your room and into the bath, I'll sneak you some cake later." I smiled, wiped my tear-streaked cheeks, and obeyed.

                                                                  
GALA MACKIE-PEREZ is an undeclared freshman. She was born and raised in Anchorage, Alaska. Gala recently married a loving husband, and is enjoying each day as it comes.