Every Girl I've Loved A Lifetime Ago

Celene

I was back home and it was such a relief.
Haruka, my old dorm mate, and I finally found the apartment we wanted.
Mamá hugged me, she heard about Daisy.
Papa hugged me, he missed me more than he'd ever admit.
My twin sister hugged me, she knew about the white little letter tucked in my car's glove department.
"Will you RSVP?" she whispered in my ear as she held me tightly.
"That is the first thing you say to me after not seeing me for months?"
"I've missed you."
"I've missed you too."
"So... will you?"
"Oh my god."
Sometimes I regretted telling her everything.
I wore a gold, low cut dress that shimmered in all lighting, black sandal heels that I could barely walk in, and the makeup of an internet personality.
My "plus one" wore a tight, emerald dress that flattered her curves, similarly black wedges that she seemed to glide in, and a vacant smile that I paid her to put on.
Her name was Celene, she smelled a little too strongly of rose petal perfume, and she charged by the hour.
We talked during the car ride there.
She had an older sister who was a doctor at some prestigious hospital, her mother always had too high expectations for her, and her brother overdosed at sixteen years old.
Her favorite movie was Inception, her favorite musician Bruno Mars, and she was allergic to peanuts.
I told her about my professor who was caught doing heroin in the staff bathroom, my friend who wore $5000 Jimmy Choos to PE back in high school, and my obsession with chocolate covered raisins.
I told Celene about my abuelita, about the time I met Kali Uchis, and my irrational fear of fish.
By the time we were there, Celene and I were acting like real girlfriends instead of client and employer who just met a day ago.
We took our seats next to my twin sister, our hands folded in our laps politely and we stole one too many glances at each other.
The chatter around us was pleasant, the air buzzing with anticipation, the breeze cooling down the stuffy August air.
It was an outdoor event. Plastic chairs set up on an unbelievably green lawn. An arch seemingly made of flowers and vines. It was beautiful.
And as music softly played and a girl with silver hair and a sophisticated tux walked down the aisle solo, Celene gasped in realization.
"She's your ex, isn't she?" She wasn't, but I almost wish she was.
"Shh!"
It was unbearably uncomfortable.
And by the time the bride and her mother gracefully flew past, there were hot stinging tears in my eyes. But I wasn't crying for the same reason my twin was.
Celene squeezed my shoulder, Fiona kissed the bride, Rosemary threw the bouquet.
They cut the cake, I dragged Celene to the dancefloor, my sister made a toast.
I talked to Fiona, she smelled like alcohol, adrenaline, and lovesickness.
Rosemary smelled like vanilla bean cake, frayed nerves, and glory.
I introduced Celene as my girlfriend, Rosemary's eyes widened and her mouth shaped into an O.
Her face reddened sheepish and sorry as she confessed that she always thought I was straight.
I laughed, boisterous and fake, as I told her that most people do.
Celene gave her our congratulations, giggling and knowing she was getting quite the hefty pay check.