I was first in line.
I walked down the stairs that were coated
in peeling white paint, arm in arm with a groomsman.
My elbow was sweating
but not from the heat.
Rows of eyes staring with expressions
as warm as the Jamaican sun.
I felt the sea wind blow
through my hair as if saying, we're all looking at you.
I felt the rough sand
fill my sandals.

I reached the altar and breathed.
The rest of the bridal party came down the aisle
slowly, two by two.
Then came the bride,
glowing skin and shiny cheeks.
Her dress was a striking white
in the midst of beachy browns and sea blues.

The groom couldn't
contain his smile.
He peppered the ceremony with humor,
leaving us all in stitches.
One sister saved by waterproof mascara.
Another given away
with a kiss.
Now I had a new brother.

Flashes like angry bees.
Amateur photographers trying to catch the last
of the crimson sunset.
A crowd of mothers, fathers, daughters,
and sons.
Arranging family and friends
going in and out of frame.
We flaunted itchy plum dresses, starched black suits,
sporting our goofy faces.

We gave speeches oozing
with stories of friendship.
Silently competing for the best tear jerking anecdote
about my sister.
I looked down and fidgeted with the tablecloth
and stifled a frown.

We danced to the deep bass drops
and artificial synthesizer tones of hip hop.
They ordered sweet drinks
from the bar.
Tipsy relatives tried to synchronize
their dizzy feet.
I felt the fizzy bubbles of my shirley temple burn my throat
as I watched those two slow dance.
It was the last time she would only be mine.
But I was happy--we all were.
Then I exited our hotel's nightclub
into the thick, humid air.
I walked down the palm tree lined breezeway to my room,
alone.