The Wedding Crasher's Guide to Kissing Your Sister's Ex

The Wedding Crasher's Guide to Kissing Your Sister's Ex 

I was never the main character of my story. I was always the background character, sitting in the back of the classroom, Stella's little sister who followed her like a shadow. When we’d be out with our mom, people would always say Stella looked just like her. Then they’d turn to me, if they noticed I was there at all, and ask if I was a school friend. 

Mom made us take ballet lessons when we were kids. I was Snowflake Number 7 in the Nutcracker (Stella was Clara), an unnamed orphan in Annie (there were at least six named parts, and only six of us in that age group, but I still didn't get a character. Stella was, of course, Annie), and many, many trees and one time, a dancing flower (who still didn’t talk). 

Just enjoy the show, my mom used to say to me, when I first cried about only getting minor parts. 

You see, Stella was like the sun. That’s the cliche I’d compare her to. I’m not the sun. I’m not the moon, or even a star. I don't belong in the sky at any time. I was never meant for the main stage. And I know, I know that Mom loved us both. But I also know that Stella, as a carbon copy of her and all she could be, was loved just a little bit more. And I, with our Dad’s hair and eyes and nose and everything, reminded Mom too much of the man who left us. 

I don’t really have any memories of Dad. He left before I could even talk. My first word was “Ewa.” Mom is convinced I was trying to say, “Stella.” I think I was trying to say something else. I’m not sure what. But I don’t want my first word to be my sister. I know that much.

It’s not that I don’t like my family. I love my family. I guess I just wish that they loved me back. 

When Mom died, she didn’t leave a Will. It was unexpected. She’d had cancer for six months, and never updated her Will. Her last Testament was that her only daughter, Stella, would inherit everything. And I guess it should have hurt. But I learned long ago that things that hurt, they hurt for a reason. Sometimes that reason is to remind us not to feel so much.

I found out my sister was getting married online. I was scrolling Facebook when a post from a family-friend popped up, congratulating Stella on her engagement to some guy named Steve. Last time I’d talked to Stella, she was dating a woman named Penny. 

I’d always liked Penny. She was nice, in a way that Stella wasn't. As in, at all. I never found out why they broke up. I just know that Penny wasn’t at Stella’s graduation from Queens University (Stella was Valediction). But either way, Penny was no longer in Stella’s life, and Stella was no longer in mine. Therefore, Penny was no longer in mine, either. 

I used to be bitter about this fact. That the only family I had left wanted nothing to do with me. I used to cry about it in therapy, and by therapy, I mean venting to my cat Misty while drinking red wine and eating Pop Tarts, unheated. 

I didn’t like the Facebook post announcing that my sister was getting married to a complete stranger. I didn’t even save the date in my calendar. Maybe I should have. It would have saved me some trouble.

Marcus, my on-again, off-again situationship, called me up the other night. Said his coworker invited him to his wedding and he needed a plus one. Not thinking anything of it, I agreed, since it was an open bar and a free vacation. 

“Do I need to wear anything special?” I’d asked him, a few days before we were supposed to leave. He shrugged.

“My coworker said something about ‘black tie’ but I only own a red one. I’m sure it’s fine.” Then he hung up.

Wanting to match with my date, I looked through my closet for a red dress. All I owned was black leggings and ratty t-shirts, which I very well couldn't wear to a wedding. So, shopping it was. The only person I ever knew who enjoyed shopping was Stella, who I hadn’t spoken to in three years, so I couldn't just call her up asking for fashion advice for a random wedding. Besides, it wasn’t like I had the funds for a new dress. Sighing to myself, I was about to go to bed when I got a notification on my phone.

Blearily opening my eyes, I checked my voicemail, and was brutally awakened by the contents. 

YOU HAVE ONE (1) NEW MESSAGE FROM: PENNY ROSSI

Now why the hell my estranged sister’s ex-girlfriend was messaging me was beyond me. 

Putting my phone on speaker, I played the voice message. 

Hey, Sam! It’s Penny. Penny Rossi. You might not remember me, but I used to go out with your sister, Stella. I hate to do this out of the blue, but I’m in a bit of a pinch. I’m working on a huge project and need a model for my new line—my last girl dropped out last minute and I can’t get anyone with her measurements and features by tomorrow. Then I remembered that you could basically be my model’s twin, and well. Please! The shoot is tomorrow morning, if you could show up to 251 Queens Quay West, the Harbourfront. Oh fuck, I don’t even know if you’re still in Toronto. Ok, well if you are, if you could come for 9 am, I would be super grateful. You’ll get paid, of course. And you can keep the clothes you model. Please call me back. My number is—

At this point, I’d stopped listening. The prospect of seeing Penny again, of being in front of a camera, of being a model, made me sick to my stomach. But then, I checked my messages and saw that Penny had texted me the address and a picture of her line. It was… fuck she had a red dress, that I knew before I even tried it on, I knew would look perfect on me. Fuck everything. Exhaling, and ignoring everything in me that was saying this was a bad idea, I texted Penny back. Okay.

The next day, I woke up earlier than I ever had, and made my way down to the Harbourfront. Downtown was busy as usual, and I couldn't see Penny anywhere, just a bunch of crew people and cameras, and for a second, I thought about just leaving. That is, until I heard my name. 

“Sammy!” I turned, and saw my teenage crush rushing towards me wearing a gorgeous midnight blue dress.

“Pen!” Before I knew it, I was being swept up into strong arms. 

“Thank you so much for coming!” Penny beamed at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

“So, the shoot will only be a few hours. We did most of it yesterday, but then Casey bailed on me and I couldn’t get anyone else out here in time. The dressing room is over here, the clothes are lined up in order of the shoot. Tanner here will help you out with hair and makeup. Oh! I totally forgot, how are you? You grew up so much! That haircut really suits you!” Penny rambled on as she led me to the dressing rooms, which was just a curtain. Cool. 

The dress was, simply put, perfect. A deep, cherry red, that hung effortlessly on my frame, with a plunging neckline, a slit up the leg, and made from the most gorgeous satiny material. Running my hands down the hem, I knew there was no way I could pull this off. 

As I was zipping up the dress, it got snagged on some fabric. Frantic, I was about to call for help when Penny opened the curtain unannounced.

“Oh. My. God! Sammy! You look amazing!” Penny gushed, and I couldn't help it. I blushed. Objectivity, I supposed I looked okay. The maroon red paired perfectly with my darker skin, and Tanner had done wonders on my makeup, erasing sleepless nights and old scars. Self-conscious, I reached up to tug on my curls, also tamed by Tanner. 

“Do you need help with that?” Penny asked, gesturing to my zipper. I nodded. Leaning in, Penny’s minty breath ghosted the back of my neck as she finished zipping me up. Her hand was warm and comforting, resting on the small of my back. Biting my lip, I watched in the mirror as her dark eyes watched me. Then, like a spell was broken, she pulled away.

“The shoot begins in five.” she said, before hastily exiting the dressing room. With one last glance at the mirror, I touched the nape of my neck where Penny’s fingers had been moments ago. Okay. Showtime. 

The shoot went by without any major hiccups. The premise, Penny explained to me, was downtown elegance. How can one elevate an already urban, trendy setting? As she talked, all I could follow was the lines of her neck, arching out. 

I arrived home with several black garment bags full of clothing. His coworker’s wedding, which I had almost forgotten about until Marcus texted me the flight time, was the next day. It was in Vegas, of all places. Fucking lame. Not that I'd ever been to Vegas, but whatever.

Marcus was waiting for me at the airport, talking nonstop about how inconvenient it was to take time off work for this, going on about stocks and bonds and shit I could give less of a fuck about. 

The whole flight I just tuned him out, but I couldn't help thinking of Penny, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her passions, and how her hands felt on my body. 

I slept pretty much the entire day before the wedding. I woke up to Marcus already in his suit, black tie undone. 

“I thought you were wearing a red tie?” I said when I saw him, and he shrugged.

“Apparently ‘black tie event’ means I gotta wear a black tie to this thing.” he replied, as he finished tying a Windsor knot. 

“Oh… okay. Well, wait for me to get dressed.” I said, climbing out of bed.

“Actually, I was gonna head down early and meet up with some work buddies of mine. You don’t mind, right? I’ll just meet you at the event.” He said, as he headed for the door. Before I could reply, he was gone. Sighing, I headed to the wardrobe where the dress was hanging. 

Just like before, the zipper got stuck. But unlike before, I didn’t have Penny to help me. I didn’t have anyone to help me, actually. Poking my head out the hotel room door, I looked around the hallways for someone to help me. The wedding was being held in the reception hall of the hotel—a classy four star joint that I could never even afford to step foot in. Hoping to catch up with Marcus, I got on the elevator just as it was closing. I turned around to see Penny, wearing a red silk suit, blouse unbuttoned all the way down. We matched perfectly.

“Sam!” she exclaimed, “I didn’t know you were coming! To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was going to myself, but I said to myself, Penelope, you can do this. It’s just a wedding.” 

Blinking, I didn’t answer. 

“You okay, Sam?” Penny asked, waving a hand in front of my face. I continued to stare, until the rational part of me woke up.

“Uh… can you zip me up?” I asked, turning around. Silence. Then, I felt Penny’s nimble fingers reach up and grasp the metal zipper. Holding my breath as she moved the zipper up my back, all I could think was that this was fate. Then, the elevator doors opened, and my sister who I hadn’t seen in over three years was standing there, in our mother’s wedding dress, crying her eyes out. 

“Penny? Sniff. What are you… Sam! Wait, how are you here? I didn’t even invite— never-mind. How are you here? And what on earth are you two doing?!”

My sister, for the first time in her life, was not the center of attention, and it threw the both of us off. Wedding guests who had been milling about the lobby stopped to stare at us. 

“Stella, I—” I started to speak, but 27 years of being in her shadow clamped my mouth shut. Penny spoke for me.

“Hey, Stels… long time, no see.” Penny said, half smile on her face. I couldn't help it—I searched Penny’s face for any traces of love or attachment to my sister that were lingering. All I found was an empty friendliness that blanketed her entire face. 

“Penelope.” Stella said curtly, completely ignoring me, not for the first time in my life. I watched as the two stared at each other… before it clicked for me. The wedding, it was my sister's wedding, and I wasn't even invited. Maybe then was when I should have felt anger, or sadness, or something. But I didn’t. I just felt like I had my whole life, nothing. 

Then the elevator doors closed in my sister's face. And I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. The laugh caught me by surprise. It bubbled up in my chest, forcing its way out of my throat, before rushing out of my mouth in a wave of ecstasy. The elevator doors opened again, and my sister was still standing there, except she had just had a door slam shut in her face for the first time, and the look on her face… It made me laugh even harder. The guests that had started to move on stopped again, this time to watch me, and I was too caught up in my own joy to even notice. 

“Samantha! Stop laughing!” Stella barked at me, and this just made me laugh even harder. There was so much I wanted to say to the sister who ignored me my entire life, who treated me like I was a nuisance, who got all the love and admiration that I spent my whole life searching for. I didn’t find it in my family, in friends, past partners, in myself. But at that moment, I felt it. My laughter trickled off, but the happiness was still in my voice when I turned to look at my sister. 

Her face, which used to look so much like our mom’s it hurt, was now pinched and sour, like she’d swallowed a lemon whole. Her wedding dress, our mom’s wedding dress, was too big for her, the straps slipped down her shoulders and it hung heavy on her frame. She looked like a little girl, a child playing dress up. Her makeup was streaked from crying, her blonde hair frazzled. 

And I should have felt bad. In fact, a few seconds ago I would have. But in that moment, all I felt was… joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. I thought back to my third birthday. Dad had left the year before. Mom had forgotten my birthday until the day of, when she hastily stuck a candle in my lunch sandwich. And Stella had laughed. She laughed so hard she cried, and when Stella cried, adults usually blamed it on me.

I thought then, just how mean my sister was. How cruel. It was something I’d known my whole life, but that I pushed aside. It was my fault Dad had left, after all. She had a right to ignore me my entire life. She deserved everything, and I… I was left with nothing. So why was she still so mean to me? I understand now. Looking at my sister, I smiled, for the first time at her, and meant it. 

“I hope you have a wonderful wedding, Stella. You look… perfect.” Before she could reply, I turned to Penny, who had been standing there the whole time.

“Do you want to grab a drink with me? It’s an open bar.” I asked her, and without waiting for an answer, I exited the elevator.

Pushing past my sister, I looked at the wedding guests, at family and friends who had ignored me my entire life, and were now only looking at me. I smiled.

Enjoy the show.