“What?” I laughed because I sincerely thought she was joking.
Claire didn’t smile. “I really mean it.”
A wave of heat rose to my face. “What’s wrong with you?”
Mom immediately retorted sharply: “Just because your sister has found someone nice doesn’t give you the right to ruin everything, Claire.”
Claire’s expression shifted into that familiar old wound — the one she had carried inside her ever since she had been labeled “difficult” so many times that it had practically become an integral part of her identity.
“I’m not trying to ruin anything,” she retorted.
Dad moved away from the table. “Then stop talking like that.”
Claire got up, went outside, and her bedroom door slammed shut in the hallway. No one followed her. I sat there while my parents turned her warning into bitterness, into jealousy, and Claire, quite simply, into Claire.
The following evening was my bachelorette party. Balloons. Sparkling cocktails. Way too much pink. I was trying to savor my happiness when Claire arrived late, her hair still wet from the rain, dressed in her work clothes.
She found me near the bar. “Alice,” she said, sounding rushed, “cancel the wedding.”
I stared at her. “What did you just say?”
“Please. Cancel it.”
“For what?”
“I can’t explain it right now.”
I could feel all eyes turning towards us. “So you came here to ruin my evening, just for the fun of it?”
Claire grabbed my wrist. “Please, listen to me…”
I jerked my arm away. “You’re jealous. You can’t stand that I finally have something good.”
I saw the words hit her.
