Eight Years of Love, Deleted Like Trash

But he wouldn't regret it for long, because Sheila was still crying.

Another text popped up on the screen.

From Sheila:

“Sally, don't act like the victim. He wants to come to me. That means I need him more than you do.”

Eugene finally reacted, rushing up onto the stage to pull the cable.

I stepped in front of the screen.

“What, can't listen to any more of it?”

His voice went tight.

“When did you get these?”

“Plenty of times.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

I laughed.

“Tell you, so you could call me oversensitive?”

His face turned ugly.

Sheila ran over, crying.

“It's not like that, Eugene. I was just hurting so much back then. I didn't mean any harm.”

I looked at her.

“Sheila, your best trick is that every single time you hurt someone, you cry first.”

She shook her head.

“Sally, you've got it wrong. I really just lean on him.”

I asked,

“Lean on him enough to know my birthday, and say you'd been dumped on purpose?”

I opened a screenshot. It was one of the bragging pictures Sheila had once sent me.

She'd marked out Eugene's schedule down to the last detail.

My birthday. The dress fitting. The marriage license appointment. The rehearsal dinner.

Next to each one, the same line.

“Get him to come over.”

The second those words appeared, Eugene's face went completely white.

“Sheila?”

Sheila panicked.

“That's not what you think it is. I was just scared you were too busy and would forget me.”

I looked at Eugene.

“She was scared you'd forget her.”

“So on my birthday, she got dumped.”

“The day I had a stomach bleed, she was up on the roof.”

“The day I tried on my dress, the lights broke in her place.”

“Tonight, at the rehearsal dinner, she twisted her ankle.”

I paused.

“Eugene, do you really think all of this is a coincidence?”

Eugene looked at Sheila, and for the first time what was in his eyes wasn't tenderness. It was the look you give a stranger.

Sheila cried harder.

“Eugene, I didn't, I was just so afraid that after you got married you wouldn't want me anymore.”

Sarah stepped in front of her at once.

“Enough! The poor girl has no parents to love her, so she clings to Eugene a little, what's wrong with that? Sally, you're a bride-to-be, squabbling with her over things like this. Have you no shame?”

I looked at Sarah.

“As long as you don't feel ashamed, that's fine.”

I kept projecting my phone. This was another screenshot Sheila had sent me.

Sarah had texted her:

“The passcode to the marital home is Eugene's birthday.”

“Sally's at work during the day, so just go by in the daytime to pick up your things.”

“She's soft. She won't say anything.”

Sarah's face went livid.

My father finally couldn't hold back and walked to my side.

“Sally, let's go.”

I nodded.

Eugene put out a hand to stop me.

“Sally, let's talk in private.”

I looked at his hand.

“Move.”

“I didn't know Sheila had sent you these.”

“There's a lot you didn't know.”

His voice went hoarse.

“Give me one chance. I'll deal with it.”

I looked at Sheila.

She was still crying, but her hand had a death grip on Eugene's cuff.

All at once I felt very tired.

“Eugene, you don't have to choose between her and me.”

He froze.

I said,

“I'm out.”

“From now on, whoever needs to comfort her can comfort her.”

“I'm done playing along.”

As I reached the door, the planner came after me.

“Miss Sullivan, do you still want the original video files from the wedding?”

I stopped.

“Which one?”

She hesitated a moment.

“That blessing video from your mother.”