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Before: The Nutcracker


Ashley

Jane Carter has a thing for Nutcrackers. Her house was decorated with them like crazy, they were everywhere. And in the background, the Nutcracker Suite ballet music was playing quietly so that every now and then I had the brilliant opportunity to look about and find Nick across the room and watch him move around to the delicate tinkling of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. I mean, it's not like he was specifically dancing, he was just moving naturally. It's just that everything he did at his mother's house seemed so precautious and delicate compared to how he usually moved that the music actually fit quite well. This is how I entertained myself while trying to ignore Jane's persistantly demeaning conversation.

And matters were not helped by anything when the other Carter siblings arrived, either. BJ just immediately started "helping" Jane at the "arduous task" of making my hair hang so "my angles weren't so severe" in my face. Then when the twins arrived, Jane spent several long moments grilling Aaron for every last detail of his life in New York, where he was playing on Broadway and getting lots of girls to fall for his sweet boy act that he'd perfected thanks to the help of his big brother. I could tell by the deer in headlights expression on his face that the last thing he wanted in the world was to admit to his mother that he was a playboy, too, and that he'd been dreading just such an inquisition.

He was saved by his twin, Angel, who came over after she'd spent a good deal of time blasting on Nick for losing at paintball last time she'd seen him in Nashville. "Hey Ashey," she said to me, grinning, "What are you doing here at a family Christmas?"

I mean the question sound innocent enough, but the intent behind it made me feel less than invited. I started to answer her, but then Jane spoke up:

"Haven't you heard," Jane said, "she and Nick are a couple now. Can you believe that, after all theses years..."

Aaron lowered his drink from his mouth, a bemused grin on his face, and I could tell that he most certainly did not believe it. Aaron, above all the Carter siblings, knew all about my status as Nick's wingman. Aaron had showed up last minute on his birthday one year and Nick didn't have a gift for him so he talked up my talent to convince girls to sleep with him and then employed me to help Aaron get hooked up.

The fact that Nick didn't think that was fucked up just explains how fucked up that is.

Anyways, now Aaron's eyes were glowing with desire to inform Jane of how not-coupley my relationship with Nick was, until I shot him dagger eyes.

"You two?" Angel laughed, her eyes dancing with amusement, "You and Nick... a couple?" She grinned, "What happened? Did he like knock you up?"

BJ choked on the white wine she was sipping, spitting it into her glass with wide eyes and puffed out cheeks. She looked like a blow fish.

Jane looked wildly at Angel as she raked the comb she was using to rearrange my hair, pulling the strands harshly. I felt like I was being scalped.

"Now Angel," she snapped, "Just because Ashley has gained a... considerable... amount of weight since - since...." she hesitated. "Since...February..."

"I haven't gained weight," I said, "And certainly not a considerable amount..."

"...and she isn't exactly the sort of gorgeous woman that Nickolas usually goes for... or even, really, pretty in the classic sense..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"...doesn't mean that you need to insinuate that she's knocked up," Jane concluded, ignoring all my interjections.

Angel gnawed her lips. "Well I mean ---" she shrugged. Then she looked at me. "Are you?"

"Dude," Aaron said, nudging her.

"No," I snapped.

"Ohh Angel," Jane said, as though she were just remembering, "You could recommend a physical trainer to Ashley, then, couldn't you? Get rid of this tum tum of yours, dear?" She patted my abdomen, "And maybe a plastic surgeon also, Angel? You know, for her nose?"

I felt my lid blow and before I could stop the words from rushing out of my mouth, I'd waved my hands, sent the comb flying and shouted, "STOP!"

All their eyes were on me. Even Nick's and Jane's boyfriend's from across the room. The comb had hit the TV set and was sitting sadly on the floor in front of it. BJ had spilled a little of her wine on herself and Aaron was staring at me dropped jawed. Angel's eyebrow was up, Jane's eyes narrowed, her boyfriend dumbfounded, and Nick a little scared.

"Nick would sleep with a toothless hillbilly cow if he thought he could get off on her," I yelled, "But it's so fucking shocking that he'd be with me. I'm sorry I'm not pretty enough or smart enough or rich enough or whatever enough. I'm sorry I don't have a big nose like you, or hair of a shiska goddess like you, or the cash to get botoxed to high heaven like you," I said pointing at BJ, Angel, and Jane respectively, "But y'all can relax because apparently no amount of hair product, manicures, dermatologists, rhinoplasties, boobjobs, personal fitness trainers, or - or - or - or WHATEVER will ever make me good enough for Nick. I get it, okay? I GET IT. I'm not invited here." I stormed to the door, "No wonder Leslie fucking killed herself! Nobody is EVER good enough for you people!"

There was a resounding silence as I shoved my way into the basement, and in the instant before the door slammed shut I heard the explosion of reactions that poured out of their mouths, seemingly all at once.




Nick

It was literally the worst thing that she possibly could've said. It's like she took a poll - what would most piss you off to hear me say? - and then said it. Only my mom's stoogey boyfriend didn't react to Dogface's words. And it was probably because he was too stupid to get it or something. But the moment that the words left Dogface's mouth, all friggin' hell broke loose.

"What in the HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" my mother bellowed, as BJ burst into tears and the two twins practically frothed at the mouth. My mother turned on me, "You have some nerve bringing a smart mouthed little bitch home to me," she snapped.

I blinked in surprise, my mouth flapping like a fish, unable to form words. How the hell did this turn into being my fault? I wondered.

"Yeah Nick," BJ wailed, "Your girlfriend's a dream." She had the ugliest face when she cried.

I didn't understand how this all was my fault and I reacted the only way I knew how: defensively. I scowled, "Well maybe if ya'll weren't being so fucking nitpicky at Dogface she wouldn'ta blown her lid!" I said.

"Why are you sticking up for her! She just accused us of - of - of --" my mother couldn't finish the sentence and she finally stopped and swooned herself right into a chair.

Suddenly Dogface was back, her bag on her shoulder.

"That's right!" my mother shouted, standing up, "Get your ugly face out of my house!"

"Mom," I said. "She didn't mean what she said, she --"

"I did so!" Dogface shouted back. "I meant it because it's true and you know it, Nick. You've said it a hundred times if you've said it once..." she turned to my mother, "You're too hard on them. You expect too much out of your kids, you expect perfection and guess what? Nobody's perfect! Not even you, as shocking as that may come to you."

My mother was seething. "GET OUT!"

"MY PLEASURE!" Dogface continued on to the front door and let herself out.

I stood there awkwardly.

My mother looked at me, "YOU TOO!" she shrieked. "Get out! Get out of my house, if you're going to be so ingrateful as to stand up for that," she said, waving her arm at the door.

"But --"

"GET OUT!" she yelled.