Maybe she wouldn’t go through with it. I nervously picked at the frayed denim sticking out of my jeans and suddenly felt stupid and out of place in a church sitting next to white collar, aristocrats. I had already told her I wasn’t going to go. Sunday was my only day off, and I liked to spend it in my garage working on my truck. But there I was, in the back of a humid, musty church surrounded by hundreds of people, but ultimately alone.
A large man resembling a gorilla in an expensive suit reluctantly sat next to me. He ignored my presence but stole a glance at my work boots and jeans and let out a sneer. As guests arrived, I people watched like an amateur psychologist. One lady, who I presumed was one of those off-beat aunts, wore neon, orange lipstick and a chinchilla fur coat that dragged on the hardwood floors as she hobbled to her seat. I expected Peta to come charging in after her but instead, the groom’s family strolled in. They actually walked with their noses in the air; I thought that was only a figure of speech.
I probably should have left. For one, it was obvious I didn’t belong there. Two, if her father saw me, he would make sure I was escorted out. (Escorted, because getting kicked out is below his high class)
I had already seen her mother. She was a sweet, older woman with a frail, delicate body and an understanding and fondness of me that her husband could not understand. She told me she was glad I decided to attend, but suggested I took a seat in the back to avoid making a big scene. The back was fine with me. I wanted nothing to do with the socialites exchanging political views and discussing where they would jet off to next. By the looks of Gorilla Man, inching away from me, they wanted nothing to do with me either.
But I had to see her. If that meant being laughed at by senators and lawyers, then so be it. Maybe if she saw me she would change her mind, or maybe I was crazy.
***
Unfamiliar, empty, blue eyes stared back at me in the round vanity mirror. I know it was wrong, but I secretly hoped that he changed his mind and decided to come. My face turned pale just thinking about him talking to my father’s friends, or worse---my father himself.
I looked out the large bay window to see stone faced women draped around the arms of their dates and men pulling and tugging at their suits in the hot sun. Valet drivers were escorting guests inside and gleefully accepting keys to BMW’s and Jaguars. I instinctively scanned the lawn for a blue, pickup truck.
My cousin snuck up behind me, “It’s almost show time kid!” She always called me kid, even though I am three years older than her. Stepping away from the window and to the mirror, a long, white ball gown stared back at me, trapping me. The lace and beading was unfamiliar on my skin and I wanted nothing more than to change into jeans.
My cousin rested her head on my weighted shoulder and whispered, “You look beautiful, Katie.” I felt my mouth going dry and my heart beat rise up out of my chest. Staring in the mirror, I could see my father enter the bedroom. His fitted suit looked flawless, but his eyes looked tired and wrinkles were outlining every worry on his face. I wondered how many wrinkles I was responsible for.
“Katie, you are the most beautiful bride. Don’t tell your sister!” My father gave me a sincere smile and wrapped me in a hug. I let out a chuckle, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment.
The faint sound of an organ playing the familiar wedding tune softly filled the room. It started to sound more like a death march.
My father placed my arm through his and whispered, “Were on kiddo.” I gulped to hold down the vomit.
***
The altar was decorated in an array of flowers. Katie hated flowers. She once told me she wanted to get married underneath the willow tree at her grandma’s house—to me. That day seemed so long ago now.
Beneath the altar, smiling ear to ear, was the groom. He was exchanging a few words with the minister, running his fingers through his black, oiled hair. I had only seen him a few times on television, usually, promoting his father in a campaign. His tanned skin looked more like it came from a tanning bed rather than plowing fields. His glowing, white teeth looked like they never felt the sting of chewing tobacco or the bitterness of black coffee. He was a pretty boy no doubt about it, and everything about him screamed money.
The State Senator, also known as the groom’s father, was seated front row with his arm tightly wrapped around his wife’s waist.
The organ music grew louder and the audience all turned to the back as the heavy church doors swung open. I couldn’t focus on the bridesmaids or groomsmen, hell, I couldn’t focus on breathing. She would walk through that door any second, and walk away from me. Again.
We all rose as she entered. Gorilla Man let out a painful groan as he slowly stood up. Gorilla Man and Katie’s father were blocking my view of her. Her father and I locked eyes and I swear I heard him growl. I moved back and forth, slightly hopping up and down, trying to see her, trying to get her to see me.
***
Maybe he really didn’t come. The altar seemed so far away, a never ending walk. Flowers covered the altar—apparently my request for no flowers was ignored. I scanned the room trying to pick out a weird, spiritual light, a lady bug, or a heads-up penny, anything I could justify as a sign that I should get married. The only sign I could come up with stood at the altar, looking, like always, absolutely flawless. A perfect Prince Charming in his Gucci pressed suit. Ryan had everything a woman could want, stunning good looks, a charming personality, a pedigree stronger than a show dog and enough money in the bank to retire early—so what was my hesitation?
***
She was half way down the aisle when I caught a good look at her. Her skin was porcelain, nothing like the dewy, bright complexion that turned to freckles when we spent the weekend at Butternut Lake. Her eyes were grey and baron, not like the gleaming, blue that mesmerized me. Her hair was pulled back into a high up do. I yearned for her to shake her head and let her blonde curls fall into her face. If only she would turn and look at me.
***
The thumping of my chest overpowered the minister’s low voice. The audience was an unrecognizable silent blur. I focused my eyes on Ryan’s lips but couldn’t concentrate on the words coming out. He was probably reciting his vows that he paid a poet to write for him. Thoughtfulness comes in wide varieties, I suppose.
“Katie, darling, I said I do.” Ryan grabbed my shaking hand and slid a wedding band above a 7kt diamond. My mind and finger felt weighed down.
I knew what was next. The minister continued, “Do you Katie, take this man to be your husband to love and to hold for as long as you both shall live?” I felt my stomach rise into my throat.
Like unwanted morning light, sun streamed through the church when the wooden doors flung open. The audience swung their heads to the back of the church. An unmistakable pair of work boots stomped out of the church and slammed the door behind them. He did come.
The audience looked back to me, staring with prying eyes, waiting for an answer. My whole body was tingling, becoming hot and red. Just like not wanting to get out of bed, I didn’t want to get married either. Clutching The Bible tightly, the minister solemnly stood in silence. Ryan looked at me with lustrous, hopeful eyes and squeezed my clammy hands, jolting me back to reality.
Sometimes, you find yourself forced to get of bed. I squeaked out those two binding words and before the minister gave his blessing, Ryan wrapped his arms around me and kissed his wife for the first time. Like a coward—I got married.
A large man resembling a gorilla in an expensive suit reluctantly sat next to me. He ignored my presence but stole a glance at my work boots and jeans and let out a sneer. As guests arrived, I people watched like an amateur psychologist. One lady, who I presumed was one of those off-beat aunts, wore neon, orange lipstick and a chinchilla fur coat that dragged on the hardwood floors as she hobbled to her seat. I expected Peta to come charging in after her but instead, the groom’s family strolled in. They actually walked with their noses in the air; I thought that was only a figure of speech.
I probably should have left. For one, it was obvious I didn’t belong there. Two, if her father saw me, he would make sure I was escorted out. (Escorted, because getting kicked out is below his high class)
I had already seen her mother. She was a sweet, older woman with a frail, delicate body and an understanding and fondness of me that her husband could not understand. She told me she was glad I decided to attend, but suggested I took a seat in the back to avoid making a big scene. The back was fine with me. I wanted nothing to do with the socialites exchanging political views and discussing where they would jet off to next. By the looks of Gorilla Man, inching away from me, they wanted nothing to do with me either.
But I had to see her. If that meant being laughed at by senators and lawyers, then so be it. Maybe if she saw me she would change her mind, or maybe I was crazy.
***
Unfamiliar, empty, blue eyes stared back at me in the round vanity mirror. I know it was wrong, but I secretly hoped that he changed his mind and decided to come. My face turned pale just thinking about him talking to my father’s friends, or worse---my father himself.
I looked out the large bay window to see stone faced women draped around the arms of their dates and men pulling and tugging at their suits in the hot sun. Valet drivers were escorting guests inside and gleefully accepting keys to BMW’s and Jaguars. I instinctively scanned the lawn for a blue, pickup truck.
My cousin snuck up behind me, “It’s almost show time kid!” She always called me kid, even though I am three years older than her. Stepping away from the window and to the mirror, a long, white ball gown stared back at me, trapping me. The lace and beading was unfamiliar on my skin and I wanted nothing more than to change into jeans.
My cousin rested her head on my weighted shoulder and whispered, “You look beautiful, Katie.” I felt my mouth going dry and my heart beat rise up out of my chest. Staring in the mirror, I could see my father enter the bedroom. His fitted suit looked flawless, but his eyes looked tired and wrinkles were outlining every worry on his face. I wondered how many wrinkles I was responsible for.
“Katie, you are the most beautiful bride. Don’t tell your sister!” My father gave me a sincere smile and wrapped me in a hug. I let out a chuckle, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment.
The faint sound of an organ playing the familiar wedding tune softly filled the room. It started to sound more like a death march.
My father placed my arm through his and whispered, “Were on kiddo.” I gulped to hold down the vomit.
***
The altar was decorated in an array of flowers. Katie hated flowers. She once told me she wanted to get married underneath the willow tree at her grandma’s house—to me. That day seemed so long ago now.
Beneath the altar, smiling ear to ear, was the groom. He was exchanging a few words with the minister, running his fingers through his black, oiled hair. I had only seen him a few times on television, usually, promoting his father in a campaign. His tanned skin looked more like it came from a tanning bed rather than plowing fields. His glowing, white teeth looked like they never felt the sting of chewing tobacco or the bitterness of black coffee. He was a pretty boy no doubt about it, and everything about him screamed money.
The State Senator, also known as the groom’s father, was seated front row with his arm tightly wrapped around his wife’s waist.
The organ music grew louder and the audience all turned to the back as the heavy church doors swung open. I couldn’t focus on the bridesmaids or groomsmen, hell, I couldn’t focus on breathing. She would walk through that door any second, and walk away from me. Again.
We all rose as she entered. Gorilla Man let out a painful groan as he slowly stood up. Gorilla Man and Katie’s father were blocking my view of her. Her father and I locked eyes and I swear I heard him growl. I moved back and forth, slightly hopping up and down, trying to see her, trying to get her to see me.
***
Maybe he really didn’t come. The altar seemed so far away, a never ending walk. Flowers covered the altar—apparently my request for no flowers was ignored. I scanned the room trying to pick out a weird, spiritual light, a lady bug, or a heads-up penny, anything I could justify as a sign that I should get married. The only sign I could come up with stood at the altar, looking, like always, absolutely flawless. A perfect Prince Charming in his Gucci pressed suit. Ryan had everything a woman could want, stunning good looks, a charming personality, a pedigree stronger than a show dog and enough money in the bank to retire early—so what was my hesitation?
***
She was half way down the aisle when I caught a good look at her. Her skin was porcelain, nothing like the dewy, bright complexion that turned to freckles when we spent the weekend at Butternut Lake. Her eyes were grey and baron, not like the gleaming, blue that mesmerized me. Her hair was pulled back into a high up do. I yearned for her to shake her head and let her blonde curls fall into her face. If only she would turn and look at me.
***
The thumping of my chest overpowered the minister’s low voice. The audience was an unrecognizable silent blur. I focused my eyes on Ryan’s lips but couldn’t concentrate on the words coming out. He was probably reciting his vows that he paid a poet to write for him. Thoughtfulness comes in wide varieties, I suppose.
“Katie, darling, I said I do.” Ryan grabbed my shaking hand and slid a wedding band above a 7kt diamond. My mind and finger felt weighed down.
I knew what was next. The minister continued, “Do you Katie, take this man to be your husband to love and to hold for as long as you both shall live?” I felt my stomach rise into my throat.
Like unwanted morning light, sun streamed through the church when the wooden doors flung open. The audience swung their heads to the back of the church. An unmistakable pair of work boots stomped out of the church and slammed the door behind them. He did come.
The audience looked back to me, staring with prying eyes, waiting for an answer. My whole body was tingling, becoming hot and red. Just like not wanting to get out of bed, I didn’t want to get married either. Clutching The Bible tightly, the minister solemnly stood in silence. Ryan looked at me with lustrous, hopeful eyes and squeezed my clammy hands, jolting me back to reality.
Sometimes, you find yourself forced to get of bed. I squeaked out those two binding words and before the minister gave his blessing, Ryan wrapped his arms around me and kissed his wife for the first time. Like a coward—I got married.
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