You’re going to ignore this and let him have his fancy wedding without giving him the satisfaction?
Elena was quiet for a moment. Then, she looked directly into Marissa’s eyes. “No,” she said softly.
“I’m going.” Marissa blinked in surprise. “You’re what?” “I’m going to that wedding,” Elena repeated, her voice getting stronger.
But I’m not going to be the entertainment he expects. I’m not going to show up looking broken and defeated.
I’m going to walk in there with my head held high. Elena, Marissa started to say, “For 3 years, Marissa, I’ve let Jonathan define me.”
Elena continued, the words pouring out now. I’ve let him and everyone else believe that I’m nothing just because I don’t have money or a home.
I’ve been invisible. I’ve been silent. I’ve accepted every insult, every cruel word, every humiliating moment because I thought that’s what I deserved.
She leaned forward, her eyes blazing with determination. But I don’t deserve it. I never deserved it.
I’m not worthless just because I’m homeless. I’m not nothing just because I’m poor. And I am not going to let Jonathan Peterson use me as a joke at his wedding.
Marissa stared at her for a long moment. Then slowly, a smile spread across her face.
“Okay,” she said. Okay, so what do you need from me? I need to look like I belong at that wedding.
Elena said, “I need a dress. I need my hair done. I need to look like someone who deserves respect.
Not because external things matter. I know they don’t. Not really. But because I need Jonathan and all his guests to see me as a person, not as a homeless woman they can pity or mock.”
“When is the wedding?” Marissa asked. “Saturday, one week from today.” Marissa pulled out her phone and started making notes.
1 week. That’s not much time, but we can make it work. She looked up at Elena.
This is going to be expensive. The dress, the hair, the makeup, maybe shoes and accessories, too.
I can cover it, but I can’t let you pay for all that. Elena protested.
I can’t take your money. You’re not taking it, Marissa said firmly. I’m giving it.
I’m investing it. And besides, this is about more than just money. This is about showing that awful man that he didn’t break you, that he couldn’t break you no matter how hard he tried.
Elena felt tears forming in her eyes again. “Why are you helping me?” She whispered after I disappeared after I stopped answering your calls.
“Why are you being so kind?” Marissa reached across the table and squeezed Elena’s hand.
“Because you’re my friend,” she said simply. “Because you would do the same for me.
And because that man has been cruel to you for long enough. It’s time for that to stop.”
She stood up, gathering her coat and purse. “Come on,” she said. “We have work to do right now.”
Elena asked, surprised. “Right now? We only have one week, and there’s a lot to do.
First, we’re going to my apartment. You’re going to take a long hot shower, a real shower with good soap and shampoo.
Then, we’re going to figure out what you need.” Elena stood up slowly, hardly believing this was really happening.
“Marissa, I don’t know how to thank you.” Don’t thank me yet, Marissa said with a smile.
Wait until we pull this off. Wait until you walk into that wedding and see the look on Jonathan Peterson’s face.
They left the coffee shop together, walking side by side down the busy street. People passed by without giving them a second glance.
Just two women walking together, talking and laughing like old friends. And that’s exactly what they were.
Marissa’s apartment was in a nice building downtown, the kind with a doorman and a shiny lobby.
The doorman looked at Elena with suspicion when they walked in, but Marissa gave him a firm look and he stepped aside without saying anything.
They took the elevator up to the 10th floor. Marissa unlocked her apartment door and led Elena inside.
“The bathroom is through there,” Marissa said, pointing down a hallway. “Take as long as you need.
There are clean towels in the cabinet, and help yourself to any of the soap or shampoo you find.
I’m going to make some phone calls while you’re in there.” “Fhone calls?” Elena asked.
