The Sunshine Train

"Nobody's gonna know. Nobody's gonna know—"

"They're gonna know."

"How would they know?"

Farrah repeats herself, but Elisapee turns away, focussing her attention on the wedding dress draped over the bed. Now that the gown has had a chance to dry, the yellow-ringed stain is even more obvious.

Farrah, still undeterred, gestures to the dress once more. "Look, once she's standing, the train will be on the ground and no one will be able to see it! Try it on and you'll see—"

"Oh, no! I'm not trying it on again! Maybe this time I'll walk through that rat's shit!"

"Marzipan is not a rat, she's a chihuahua bichon frise cross and she's still a puppy! Small breed dogs are harder to house train!" Marzipan, banished to the hallway, lets out a mournful yap.

"Farrah, we have to tell her. She still has time to get it dry cleaned."

"We already wet cleaned it, and surely wet cleaning is more effective than dry cleaning!"

"That's not what it means!"

"I'm pretty sure that's what it means. They just dab it with baking powder or something. Baking soda?"

"No, they use solvents."

"But not water?"

"They steam dry it, they technically do use water."

"Then there's nothing dry about it. They should call it solvent cleaning!"

Elisapee clicks her tongue. "Then people like you would be worried about chemicals in their clothing!"

"If you know so much about laundry, why did you insist we wash the dress with hot water?"

"Urine doesn't normally have a high protein content, so I thought it would be fine!"

"Oh my god." Farrah's hand flutters to her throat. "Is there something wrong with Marzipan? Why does she have so much protein in her urine? Should I take her to the vet?"

"I think it's worth mentioning. When's her next appointment?"

"Next week. Let me just check my calendar." Farrah pulls out her phone, but drops it with a shriek. "I have six missed calls from Keightlynn! What should I do!"

"Phone her back and tell her that there's dog piss on her wedding dress!"

"Oh, because that's what every bride wants to hear the night before her wedding, right? And how are you going to explain to her that you tried it on because, and I quote, you wanted to see whether Tyrell would find you bangable now that you're on a Keto diet?"

Elisapee's neck flushes. "Hey! My genes are better suited for a low-carb, high-fat diet!"

"I don't think that's the point, Eli. Tyrell's going to be looking at Keightlynn in that dress, not you." Farrah wraps her friend in a pitying hug.

"We have to tell her, Farrah. I don't want her thinking I intentionally tried to sabotage her wedding."

"I mean…" Farrah takes a step back, glancing coyly at Elisapee. "Doesn't some part of you feel happy at the thought of her walking down that aisle in a pee-stained dress? No one would find out. It would be our dirty little secret."

The glimmer of a smile tugs at Elisapee's lips, but she quickly straightens her expression. "No, Farrah. Keightlynn didn't know about my past with Ty. It was my fault for not telling her until they were engaged. They love each other. I just need to move on. And I want to start by fixing that dress. We need to tell her the truth."

"I get what you're saying, Eli, but the dry cleaner doesn't open until nine tomorrow morning, and it would take an hour to clean. We're already pushing the time by driving out of province rather than staying at the hotel with everyone else."

"The only reason we're here is because it was our job to bring the dress! If we leave at ten, push the speed on the highways, and skip the bridesmaid photos, we should get there in time for the wedding!"

"Genius, Eli, you're just forgetting one thing—she needs the dress for the bridal portraits."

"Shit. Fine. There's only one thing we can do—drive through the night and use a dry cleaner's there. We'll be tired, but it'll be worth it."

"You're telling me that you'll be fine having bags under your eyes in front of Tyrell?"

"Please, I'm not vain enough to care about that."

"No, just whether he finds his fiancée's dress slim-fitting on you," Farrah responds dryly. "My mother doesn't arrive until tomorrow morning to pet-sit Marzipan. I can't leave her here all night alone! She needs to be let out twice a night!"

"Just lay out a nice white dress. That'll do the trick."

The women glare at each other. Farrah strides over to the dress and jams it into its garment bag. "There. We arrive at the wedding tomorrow, as planned, and we hand her the dress, as planned. She puts it on, and doesn't see the stain on the train. She doesn't have to deal with any additional stress on her wedding day. It would be selfish to tell her."

"You're just trying to justify yourself. It's wrong. She needs to know. I'm giving you a choice, Farrah: We phone and tell her what happened, or we drive through the night to get to a dry cleaner's."

Four hours later, Farrah and Elisapee pull off the Trans-Canada highway. "The hotel is ten minutes from here," Elisapee says, zooming in on the map on Farrah's phone. "Oh, sorry, I dialed your voicemail. What do I press to exit?"

"The little red button at the bottom, isn't that obvious—"

"New Message, from: K-Eight-Lynn Collins, sent at: 11:46 PM. Farrah, I hope everything's okay, I'm getting worried. I've left a message on Eli's phone too. Ms. Kwan said she'll be up at six tomorrow to make sure you can pick up the correct dress in time. Just make sure to bring back the one she gave you. Apparently it's one of her original samples, or something? She wants to make a clothing line based off of it. Anyway, hope all is okay! Shoot me a text when you can. Maybe it's just bridal nerves, but I'm thinking up all the worst-case scenarios! Love you!"

A long silence follows the message, the only noise the ticking of the car turn signal. When the light flashes green, Farrah's foot stays on the brake, her eyes staring unfocussed into the distance.

"I don't want to go back." Farrah's voice breaks on the last word.

"We have to go back."

The next day, Keightlynn feels silly for ever doubting her friends, who always have her best interest at heart. Tyrell compliments Elisapee on how well-rested she looks while Farrah slips her friend another caffeine pill and dabs at the wine she spilled down her dress. Farrah's mother wonders why Farrah made such a big deal out of pet-sitting, because Marzipan doesn't pee inside the house even once. And finally, Ms. Kwan is grateful that her dress has been returned to her in perfect condition, priding herself on the artistic touch she took with the sunshine-coloured train.