My hand limply dangled outside the bed after having failed to find Abby. It will never cease to amaze me how she can always find the energy to leave the bed early even after we spent so much time lovemaking or talking into the night. There had been none of the former, only the latter, but still, it was more impressive today than any other time because after we were done talking, we still spent a long time holding each other unable to sleep. The feeling of my hand dangling in and of itself was a somewhat pleasant feeling, so I didn’t let her absences get me too down. I still would have preferred finding her by my side and pulling her in for some snuggling, but there’s a simplistic pleasure of feeling lazy and letting a part of you being outside of bed. It’s a kind of middle finger to the world, I suppose. “Technically, I’m already out of bed, so screw you”. Something like that. Yet again I say “still”, because Abby’s softness and tender presence was starting to be sorely missed as I became more and more aware of the discomfort brought by my cramps and memories of last night’s shared words. I was feeling awfully emotional about it all too, my eyes feeling like they wanted to let out some tears. It hurt, but not that much, at least when compared to yesterday.
“Hi there, Miss Sleepyhead,” she greeted me from the kitchen as soon as she saw me walk into the living room.
“Abby,” I whined as I hurried my step to hug her from behind.
“Hehe, what’s gotten to you?” she laughed like a tiny bird as I squeezed her. “Are you in a needy mood today?”
“Mmh-hmm,” I weakly moaned as I buried my face in her hair. She must have showered a bit ago because it was super fluffy and smelled equally as nice. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up.”
“Hehe, there, there,” she consoled me, twisting her arm around to pat my head. “I’m here now, so hug me as much as your heart wishes, but hold on the strength you put into it. I’m feeling a tad bloated and disgusting.”
“Impossible!” I told her as I rubbed her stomach. “Even if you bloated to ten times your size, you’d still be the cutest girl in the world.”
“Hehe, oh my! Someone reeeally loves me, huh?”
“More than anything in the—”
“Oh my God! Get a room you two! I’m! Right! Here!”
Even after having splashed my face with cool water before coming here, I still failed to notice Sophie sitting on the couch when I passed the threshold. Just goes to show how Abby-starved I was.
“S-sorry... I didn’t notice you sitting there.”
“Humph! Damned love birds,” she grumbled as turned forward and looked down. Since I hadn’t seen Oliver yet and she was there, most likely, she shifted her focus to the furball on her lap.
Abby pulled me down and kissed my face. She then whispered to my ear that Sophie was just feeling jelly and not to mind her.
I didn’t, I perfectly understood her reaction. Aby and I were being obnoxiously lovey-dovey. On any other day, even I would have shouted that to myself.
“What are you making?” I asked, having finally noticed that Abby was slicing bread. They were thicker slices than what we always used to make toasts and there was also a small metallic cup with some... melted butter? But why was I smelling garlic? The only aromatic I could see was the closed small bottle where we kept the dried oregano.
“Well, I thought it’d be nice to mix things up, so I’m making garlic bread for everyone’s breakfast. Will you want cheese on yours?”
I very much would. I could practically already smell it. The smell of toasted bread and melted cheese with oregano and garlic. I wouldn’t mind having some meat with it too. A thick slice of it, dripping in fat. Maybe we should go have lunch at a hamburger restaurant? There was a very good one we went to one time. It was a bit on the expensive side, but... well, there was reason to celebrate, so I guess it would be fine. What was the name of the place, though?
“The one downtown?” Abby asked for clarification. “Literally, ‘Downtown’s Hamburgers’. Any more dumbed down and it’d be called “Downtown’s Meat-grinded Patties in Two Slices of Bread’.”
“Don’t you two ever get tired of being that close together?” Sophie asked, interrupting our conversation.
She had gotten up and came to check on the breakfast progress while cradling Oliver like a baby. It’s been almost a year, and he didn’t grow that much. Add to his body a palm in length and that was about it. The fact he was a bit short-legged and... ‘girthy’ contributed to that impression. He was belly-side up, his face looking like he was smiling and with the eyes practically shut as he purred and kneaded Sophie’s chest. He was like that with anyone, apart from the kneading with me. My chest must be too small for his taste. I don’t know if he was a pervy cat or if it was merely a matter of padding.
My tangent aside, seeing those two acting like that made Sophie’s comment sound like she had no self-awareness. Oliver practically never touched the floor when she was here. Rather, he touched the floor even less, seeing how much of a lazy cat he was. In my next life, I want to be reincarnated as one of his kind. Cats sure have it good.
“It’s a bit ironic that you’re asking us that, dear sis,” Abby told Sophie, making my own thoughts heard and pointing at Oliver with a spoon. “You don’t seem to get tired of holding him, do you?”
“Well... he’s a cat, and... you know, it’s not like he’s cooking or anything.”
Abby looked up at me. It was one of those times we both knew what the other was thinking. We had grown so used to cooking like this when the task at hand was too basic to have two people working on it that we didn’t even question the practicality of it all. We also didn’t see anything wrong with it since we’d let go if the other needed more freedom of movement.
“Why are you acting so naggy today?” Abby asked. “Are you on your period too?”
“I’m not!”
“PMS then?”
“No!”
“Honey, don’t tease your sister so much.”
“I’m not! You think so too, right? That my sister is been naggier than usual?”
I told her not to call her sister a nag, but I also agreed with her, but instead of teasing Sophie like Abby did, I asked if something was bothering her. Sophie’s initial response was that everything was fine, but the way she acted was almost the same as when Abby wanted to talk about something but was being bashful about it. And just like her younger sister, a bit more prodding produced the same results.
“...Your dad and I went to have lunch together yesterday,” she grumbled.
Abby and I exchanged another look, both of us frowning. “Isn’t that a good thing?” we silently asked each other.
“As a date?” Abby asked.”
“I thought it was but... he didn’t even compliment me when he showed up...”
Abby and I shared another stare. This time our thoughts differed. Abby wasn’t getting the problem while I saw it clearly as day.
“Sophie, just because the internet says this or that has to happen for it to be called a date, it doesn’t mean it all has to happen as written,” I told her.
“I know that. I know that, but...”
“Wait, so that’s the problem?! And babe, what did you mean by that? Did you go searching on the internet for answers as to how dates should be?”
I finally admitted to Abby that I spent an unhealthily long amount of time on my phone reading posts, forums and articles about the subject and many others relating to that. Luckily, Abby was far more interested in carrying on with our conversation with Sophie rather than poking fun at me. She just shrugged and said it totally sounded like something I’d do.
But before she could get another word out, my dad joined in, poking his head with his usual happy-go-lucky smile. He was just about to finish his comment that something smelled nice when Abby cut him off.
“Stan, you big jerk!” she shouted as she threateningly held a spoon towards him.
“What did I do this time!?” he asked, showing his full body. It was kinda funny how threatened he appeared to be by someone not even half his size. “Did I place your cereal bowl out of reach again or something?”
Even if she was really mad and not goofing around, did he really think Abby would get this mad over such a trivial thing? I’d understand if it was me doing the shouting about it but...
Did I... Did I just casually offend myself?
“My sister got all dolled up for your lunch together and you didn’t even compliment her! Don’t you think she deserves an apology?”
“A-Abby!” Sophie and I cried out.
“But I did! Wait...? Did I? I could swear I did. She looked stunning yesterday. Not that she looks any worse today, I mean. Honestly, if I did it every time I saw her, wouldn’t it start to lose its meaning? At the very least, it would start to get repetitive, wouldn’t it?”
“Dad, shut up. You’re starting to talk in circles.”
He was also making Sophie blush so much, her head looked just like a ripe tomato ready to explode. Was that how I looked when it was me on the receiving end?
“Look Sophie, I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything yesterday. I mean it when I say that you looked gorgeous. I guess I’ve been out of the game for so long that I’m completely rusted, but next time I ask you out, I’ll try to be more aware.”
“N-no, it’s... it’s fine. You don’t have—”
“Hold the phone!” Abby interrupted. “You said ‘next time I ask you out’, didn’t you? Does it mean that yesterday was a date?”
“Erm, did I mess that up too?” my dad asked as he scratched his morning stubble. “I thought I had made it clear.”
“Pufyuuh!”
“Pufyuuh”? What the hell was even that?
That weird sound came from Sophie who was hiding her face on Oliver’s stomach, him looking just as confused as we all were with that reaction. She made an even weirder sound as she dashed away past Stan. Since she turned left after getting into the corridor, I figured she went to hide in my and Abby’s bedroom.
“See what I mean when I say you two are kinda alike?” Abby asked as she tugged my sleeve. She was, as she says in these situations, “dead serious” when telling me that.
“Did I mess things up again?” My dad asked, leaning over the counter and keeping his voice down.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Dummy,” my girlfriend giggled as she took the opportunity of him lowering his head to pat him. She still had to tip-toe like a ballet dancer to reach him though, so I gave her a bit of a lift. Might as well, I figured. “She looked plenty happy, didn’t she? And speaking of being happy...”
Abby paused to take the garlic bread out of the oven and looked at me with glistening eyes and a smile that almost connected her ears.
“What? What happened?” my dad asked, his curiosity being baited by the way Abby and I were acting.
Yesterday, after we got home, Abby demanded we have a sit-down. Everything seemed fine with her and our relationship, so I got a bit worried. Turns out, she wanted to have me voice out what had been on my mind this past month. Little over a month, actually. Pedantics aside, she wanted to know and made clear that “it’s nothing” or “I’m fine” were acceptable answers. To be honest, I was glad she made us have a talk because there were things I wanted to hear her opinion about and never found the right time to bring the subjects up. As to what order I would bring them up, that was the complicated part. One worry led to another and vice-versa, you see? If I were to make a post-it note with each one and stick it on a wall before connecting them with threads, it’d all look like a spiderweb.
“How about you start by telling me what the origin of all your worries is?” she suggested.
Luckily, Abby was an expert in untangling the mess that my mind can be at the best of times.
What started it all was our first talk of getting engaged. Ever since that day, I’ve been worrying about it. First, I was worrying about how and when I should pop the question, but then... then it got messier.
The question itself wasn’t that much of a deal if I thought about it for more than a second really. Why, there’d be a dozen opportunities throughout a day if it was one that we were being tamer in how affectionate we are with each other. That made it stupidly easy, even for someone like me. No, what got my mind in a twist was what came after.
For starters, when you ask someone to marry you, what do you need? After the right mood, I mean. That’s one of the two things. The second? A ring. Guess what I didn’t have? A ring. Guess what I also didn’t have? The knowledge of what type of ring I should get, what ring size was the right one for Abby—mine too, but I could easily find that out—and more importantly, what ring would Abby like.
“Haah, you really are a worrywart,” she sighed as she shook her head, smiling as she did so. I don’t want an expensive ring, nor do I want one with a big stone. I don’t even want a ring at all, she then added.
That opinion changed when I told her that I also didn’t think we needed it but that it’d be nice as a symbol and memento of our union. What sold her the idea even more was when I suggested we get the simplest ring but add an engraving. “Yours forever,” followed by each other's name was what we decided on. The metal didn’t matter at all. We even checked some on my phone. She teased me a bit for having bookmarked some websites for reference. We didn’t decide on any, only that she’d pay half since it didn’t feel like it made sense having just one of us footing the bill. One of the perks of being a same-sex couple, I guess. I never thought about it, so I never did any research on that particular matter. Maybe in some other cases, one pays for the rings while the other pays for some other expense? Unless perhaps there’s clearly one that is the provider?
As for her ring size...
“Oh, you measured it while I was sleeping or something?” she asked when I told her I already knew her ring size.
The way I found it out was far from what she could ever imagine.
One day, when I was doing some shopping alone while she was at the gym, I walked by a jewellery store. Out of sheer curiosity, I walked in and soon after, I had a clerk showing me examples of engagement rings. I know, I know. It’s a bit creepy that I was going to such lengths, but trust me when I say this, that clerk’s a menace. She’s one of those people who could sell packed ice to an Eskimo.
Getting to the point, the way I figured Abby’s ring size was by holding hands with the hand model they had to show how the rings looked when worn. I had held Abby’s hand with entangled fingers so many times that I could tell her ring finger size by sheer feeling and muscle memory alone. And the cherry on top? When Abby and I checked to confirm it, I was spot on.
“I don’t think I could have done the same,” Abby panted as she whipped her tears after having laughed her socks off. “Then again, I just might. I did figure out your bra sizes by looking and then by touching. So? Is there anything else weighing your mind?”
Since we were talking about it, I figured we should also talk about the wedding.
“I don’t know about you, but I was forced to go to enough big weddings to loathe them. I don’t oppose wearing a white dress, but... Hmm, should we even wear white? Anyway, I’d rather just sign the papers and have a party with just our family and friends. It’s not as... “romantic”, but it sure is cosier. We can also make up for the lack of romance on that night, right? Some rose petals in the bedroom, candlelight, a bit of music? That kind of stuff.”
“Wouldn’t you like to take a trip somewhere as a honeymoon?”
“That’d be nice, but it also depends on when we are getting married. I suppose we could also save it for when we are freer in time though. Ah, but don’t try to surprise me with a trip, ok? Or at the very least, if you do, then let me pay for my half, ok?”
That brought me to my last question of the night. Or at least to what I thought was my last question of the night. The question was if she minded if I got a part-time job during this summer. I made it clear I’d be looking for one that didn’t rob me of more than three days of the week in working, even if it paid less as a result. I only wanted to save up enough for my half of the rings and would even quit once I achieved that goal. Now that I had a budget of how much that would cost me, figuring out that point in time would be a lot easier.
“I mean, I won’t tell you not to if that’s what you want, but you have to promise me you’ll be more respectful of your rest and peace of mind than last time.”
“Don’t worry, I’m planning on asking if Mrs. Fletcher needs some help around her place as my first option,” I assured her, much to Abby’s approval.
That was supposedly the last matter that I wanted to talk to her about, but then... then my mind conjured up something else. Something that brought us back to the present, as we all sat at the table to eat our breakfast, my dad still looking at me and Abby with bated breath as he waited for us to spill it out.
“Well, you see... Abby and I... we, erm...”
“Violet asked me in marriage last night and I said yes!” Abby squealed at the top of her lungs before burying her face in my armpit and swinging us side to side.
“What!?” Sophie shouted from our bedroom, having heard her sister’s declaration. Soon after, she was back with us asking if she heard us right.
Last night, after my brain had a thought, I asked Abby with zero hesitation. Last night, I thought, “wait, we already decided on the wedding ceremony, and the ring is practically decided upon. Aren’t we just having a repeat of last time?”
Abby and I spent a lot of time dating without dating and then, I told her how I felt after we kissed and had our first time. It just felt a bit stupid not making her my bride after our talk since we were practically already engaged at that point.
“I already told you, I’ll say yes when you ask me,” she told me when I asked if she’d marry me.
“Yeah, I know. I’m asking it right now. Will you marry me, Abigail Gardener?”
She then grew very quiet before starting to sob and quivering all over. She was a crying mess as she plunged on me, sobbing “yes” as she nodded frantically.
“You heard me,” Abby said to her sister, partially showing her face. “Violet and I are now engaged, so you better start calling me ‘Mrs Evergreen’ from now on.”
“H-hold on! We aren’t married yet!” I told her. “Besides, we never discussed about you adopting my last name!”
“Dear, it only makes sense to. For starters, you’re the one who proposed. Secondly, ‘Abigail Evergreen’ has a very nice ring to it, certainly better than ‘Violet Gardener’. That sounds more like a job description than a name. Thirdly...”
“...Thirdly?”
She was staring up at me with her chin on my chest, looking for a third reason. She was clearly getting frustrated as she couldn’t come up with something.
“Oh, let me just have it!” she finally huffed as she made one of, if not the most, adorable pouting faces she ever did. “I want it! See it as a wedding gift if you have to!”
“Haah, fine. It’s not like I’m really against it.”
“Hehe, yay!”
“Let’s dial things down for a second here! Don’t you think you’re too young for that kind of stuff?” her sister argued. By the looks of my father, he was thinking about the same thing.
Abby was the one taking the initiative of defending our engagement. I don’t think anyone would ever be able to convince her otherwise.
She started our defence by pointing out that it’d soon be two years that we knew each other. The second argument was that we’d been living together for now more than one year, an argument that surprised me by how fast that year had gone by. The third argument was that we already had made plans to move in together after graduating from high school, so marriage should totally be a legitimate next step. Also, we could only get married next year at the earliest, so that would make it three years of being together. The final argument was that, even if she hadn’t given it much thought, I did it for the two of us and thrice over, so if I proposed, then it should be more than enough as I would never take such a step so lightly.
That last part was giving me a bit too much credit as I did ask her in the heat of the moment. I did think what would change in our future projects together hard and long, but aside from perhaps how we paid taxes and having to co-sign some contracts and stuff, I couldn’t see our marriage having much of an impact in our future lives compared to what we had already planned.
“Stan, you say something!” Sophie demanded.
He looked at me, but the question he asked wasn’t something I could ever have thought. He asked what kind of marriage we wanted to have.
Now, it was my turn to start crying.
One of the biggest regrets he had about his relationship with my mum was the fact he had never been able to give her a proper wedding. Now that he was seeing his only daughter walking towards that path, his worry was that I too wouldn’t get the wedding of my dreams.
“It’s ok dad,” I assured him as I stupidly fanned myself. For some reason, I was doing that instead of drying the tears that were dripping down my face. Abby was the one who had to do what I was supposed to be doing with my own hands. “Abby and I only want to have lunch or dinner with you guys and our friends after we sign and deliver the papers.”
“I see,” he chuckled as he did his best to hold his own tears. He then looked at Sophie. “Well, you’ve heard them. What do you want to say?”
She bit her lower lip and looked around the room, looking completely lost and in search of an answer. Oliver, who was still comfortably cradled in her arms meowed and placed a paw on her face. It was another one of those moments when that cat showed a higher level of intelligence than what could be merely attributed to mere chance.
“...My sister can be quite the handful, but if there’s anyone who can deal with her, it’s you.”
I had finally managed to stop crying but was once again letting tears out like a broken faucet.
“Gee, look who’s being a handful today,” Abby joked as she went back to whipping my tears with her napkin.
“Sorry. My hormones, they are...”
“I know, I know. There, there, you silly girl.”
“Was her mother like this too?” Sophie asked.
“Hmm, I guess she was more or less like this when she was the same age as Violet. I don’t quite remember it. What I do remember is that she’d literally cry over spilled milk when she was expecting Violet. Those were some rough nine months.”
“Count your blessings that only two of us three are in sync, otherwise you’d be dealing with Sophie’s nagging.”
“I so do not nag!”
“Agreed. When you’re sleeping, that is.”
The two sisters started bickering amongst themselves while my dad and I watched from the sidelines. Those two sure got along if they could so freely argue like that and still hug each other at the end of the day. Would I be like that if I had a brother or sister?
My dad got up to answer the door, coming back with William following him. He greeted me, but when it was time for his daughters, he admonished them for making such a ruckus so early in the morning.
“She started it!” Sophie contested while Abby stuck her tongue at her. “See? She’s doing it again!”
“Haah, you two... I know you spent three years apart, but could you please not act like you went back to that time? You’re not in your house either.”
“Technically, I kinda am though.”
Her father sat down and served himself his share of bread, still arguing with his daughters, but Abby was far from paying him any attention. She was bobbing side to side and glancing at me with a wide grin. It was his turn to hear the news.
“And you’re ok with it?” he asked my dad.
“Eh, no harm, no foul. Way I see it, kicking up a fuss is useless since next year they’ll be eighteen anyway and our word on the matter is pretty much void.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s void. It sure would be nice having you all on board with us being engaged.”
“You know what I mean. Even if we say no, you can just go ahead and get married as soon as you’re both eighteen, so might as well go through it all on good terms.”
“True,” William said, nodding at my dad. “Like you said one time, as a father, there’s a point where we need to let our kids decide for themselves while only offering a word of guidance.”
He crossed his fingers and covered half of his face behind his hands, his eyes fixed very intensely on us. I had somewhat grown used to it by now, but it still made me feel uncomfortable. Had he not followed business school, I bet he’d make a fine interrogator for the police.
After so much thought he just smacked his lips and got back to eating, stating that we had a good head on our shoulders and any advice he had to give us we were already following.
“Wow, it took seventeen years, but finally you give me some credit,” Abby joked as she playfully slapped the table in a rhythm.
“I’ll admit, you’ve matured a lot these past years, but I think that’s mostly because you have Violet grounding your feet in reality.”
“You see that?” Abby asked with a frown as she grabbed hold of my arm. “No one else here but you give me my due credit. Humph.”
“Pfft, fufu. There, there.”
We were both giggling like idiots as I rubbed Abby behind the ear. It didn’t last long until Sophie said something.
“Haah, I’m guessing you two will be even more obnoxious than before from now on.”
Nah, we’ll eventually go back to our normal once we get used to the idea and with our humours returned to their usual balance. It would probably take a week until then, I’d wager. That’s ignoring the fact that my birthday was just around the corner. Let’s make it two weeks.
Two weeks, and then... then, it will be a year...
It sounded so far away, but I’m sure, as long as Abby and I are together, that will feel like it was yesterday.