Page 71 of The Fool
My brow rises as much as Ben’s does, for even though I was expecting it, the shock of hearing those words falling from her lips is too much for me not to react. I’m guessing Ben feels much the same way.
“Look, we know things haven’t been right between us all, but so much time has passed, and…well…surely we should be able to come together for one day?”
“Er…” I try to articulate my jumbled thoughts but fall short.
“Anyway,” she continues when I fail to say anything beyond random noises from the back of my throat, “we’d really love it if Ben would be a groomsman, and Bea, would be my maid of honor.”
Ben and I look at each other from across the table, both completely dumbfounded over not only her request but also the excitement written all over her face. I half wonder if she’s managed to talk herself out of all the hurt she caused. I straighten up and lean on the table again, with Ben almost mirroring me by leaning his chin on top of his linked hands.
“Bea, honey,” Mom says softly, “I know this might be a little uncomfortable, given yours and Dean’s history, but you’d make your father and me so proud if you’d say yes. Let’s try to leave the past in the past, shall we?”
“I’ll do it, if Bea does,” Ben says, breaking our silence and prompting all eyes to fall on me, even Dean’s.
“I…I might need to…erm…”
“Beatrice, this is your sister’s wedding,” Dad says, looking at me like he used to when I’d messed up in some childish way. Now, however, it stings just a little too much. “I think you owe it to your mother and me, after everything. We hardly see you as it is. Surely, you can do this one thing for us?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, desperately trying not to throw up my mother’s delicious food, but I fear I might fail in that endeavor. After all, it would seem their betrayal has landed on my shoulders, and I’m supposed to be forgiving, even though they took out my heart and stomped all over it.
“Bea,” Emma says, to which I open my eyes and look at her with a hint of a grimace, “I know I’m asking a lot, but I…we used to be so close. I can’t imagine doing this without you.”
We look at each other for a moment, her with sorrow, me with hurt. She’s right, we were close, so close, right up until she threw it away on the guy who is still refusing to look me in the eye.
“Can I bring someone?” I finally utter, not daring to look beyond my half-empty plate.
“Sure,” Emma beams at the same time as Ben asks, “who?”
“Nate,” I reply after a moment’s pause.
“Fuck, no, I’ll kill him!” Ben shouts, putting us at odds all over again.
“Ben!” my father snaps, giving him a warning stare before turning his attention back to me. “However, I have to agree, Bea. Ben and Nate obviously don’t see eye-to-eye, so perhaps not this time, ay?”
“It may have escaped your attention, but I am now a grown woman. Either I get to bring Nate, or I don’t come. I think I’m being more than fair, given the circumstances.”
“Beatrice, please be reasonable,” Mom practically begs, trying to calm the situation by getting me to relent, just like I always had to.
“Wait,” Emma blurts out, “it’s fine, right, baby?” she says to Dean, to which he sullenly shrugs his shoulders. “And Ben, you don’t mind, right?”
We both look at my brother who remains moodily silent for what seems like an age. My parents thankfully remain quiet, seemingly letting us kids battle this one out. Eventually, Ben looks at me and sees the desperation in my eyes, and when I mouth the word, ‘please’, he finally relinquishes his constipated expression with a long sigh.
“As long as he behaves himself, I’ll be cool,” he mutters.
“Good, then,” Dad says, slapping the table and making a move into the living room. “Em, sweetheart, you best give them all the details. Hailey, let’s go and recline in the living room.”
“Thanks, Mom, dinner was delicious,” I say as I get up to hug her, to which she pats my arm with affection. “Ben and I will clear up, won’t we, assface?”
“Sure thing. Mom, go and rest up,” he says before getting to his feet to help me.
Once inside the kitchen, Ben runs the water to wash up like he used to do when we were kids, so I grab a tea towel, assuming the role I was always given. However, before I can grab the first glass, he leaves the water and grabs hold of me to give an affectionate and supportive cuddle. We don’t say anything, but I can feel tears welling behind my eyes, and I know I’ve already forgiven him.
“Please let it go with Nate,” I practically beg, “I really like him.”
“I know, it’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with a sad sigh. “I’ll let it go but if he hurts you again, there’ll be no amount of hugging and calling me ‘assface’ that will stop me from pummeling him into the ground.”
“Fair enough,” I reply with a soft laugh. “I love you, idiot.”
“Love you too, brat.”