“You are a guest at a wedding and two family members start an argument during the ceremony.”
– a prompt for this week’s CW piece.
We met a year and a half ago at a New Year’s Eve party hosted by our mutual friend and we hit it off straight away. Sure, there were some trials and tribulations, but for the most part, we were happy. Steven proposed to me on our Anniversary – December 31st of last year and we set the date for August 24th, 2019.
This was the day I have dreamed of ever since I was a little girl. At 31, I was finally getting married to the most handsome man on the planet. Well, at least according to me.
The weather was gorgeous from the very morning. It was warm, but not too hot. The gentle sea breeze surrounded us. The sky was blue, with a couple of feathery clouds scattered throughout. The sun on full display.
The dress was stunning, elegantly form-fitting. My mom, my sister, and my best friend helped me get ready, handing all the accessories to me one by one; the stockings, the garter, the bracelet, the ankle bracelet, the earrings, the rings, the shoes. I felt a little bit like a Christmas tree, but I always liked wearing jewelry and lots of it. Looking in the mirror, I realized that I wasn’t wearing a necklace. Starting to panic, I turned towards my mother to ask her where my necklace went, but then I heard a knock.
“He can’t see me. It’s bad luck” – I told my mom, thinking it was Steven.
It wasn’t him. It was my dad with the most beautiful of necklaces, which completed my look. I was ready to go out there and meet Steve at the altar.
I don’t really remember all that much from the ceremony. I remember the doors opening, people turning to look at me, and my groom standing at the end of the aisle. My knees grew weaker and I could feel a knot forming in my stomach. Thankfully, my dad was there with me. He clasped my hand with his, gave me a slight nod, and together we walked forward. As expected, I cried intermittently throughout the service. I cried a lot. Especially during our vows, because I could not believe that it was real. That it was finally happening. That I was finally the happiest woman on the planet. Between the crying and the nerves, I am not sure if I even said “I do” at the right time.
The reception was at a Victorian restaurant by the ocean. The view at dinner was spectacular with the sun setting behind the horizon and the turquoise water swaying almost as if to the rhythm of the music that we were playing. The food was delicious, the alcohol was flowing and almost everyone was on the dance – floor. Success! My nerves were finally dissolving. Everything had gone smoothly.
I looked into Steve’s eyes and smiled, caressing his face. This could not have gone any better. All of my expectations have been met and exceeded. YMCA by The Village People came on and people started singing loudly and busting their moves. People were having fun at my wedding and I was more than proud. When everyone was getting ready to depart and take a break at their tables, Macarena started playing and people came right back. After so many years, people still remembered how to dance to that song. And those that did not, learned pretty quickly.
In the corner of my eye, I saw an animated discussion between my brother and another male, who sat with his back towards me. Soon enough, their raised voices could be heard during the quieter parts of the song. No one seemed to notice or pay attention to them, but I knew that my brother could get a little rowdy after he had a few too many drinks. Patrick’s hands were dangerously close to the mystery man’s face.
“Brian” – I gasped when the other man stood up and turned away from my brother.
Whatever they were arguing about, I thought they could resolve. Preferably, they would take it outside, maybe share a cigarette and cool off. Hopefully, Brian would call it a night and go home.
One could dream…
I was so focused on myself that I didn’t notice the knife in Brian’s hand until I heard screams. Patrick and my ex were now jumping through the tables, chasing each other and scaring other guests. Some people tried to talk some sense into the two, but they were having none of it, probably not even hearing anything outside of their little bubble. Now both armed with steak knives, they stood on the opposite sides of a long table. Bouquets of flowers separating them. I think some people thought it was a performance because they pulled out their phones and started filming.
“Someone call 911” – I kept saying, but no one seemed to notice.
My phone laid on the nightstand in my hotel room. I had no use for it today. Or so I thought.
“Don’t worry, Annie. He’ll be alright” – Patrick said to me as I waited for Steven to get out of surgery.
“He tried to help you and look where that got him” – I hissed.
“I’m sorry, sis, but I didn’t ask him to step in. I was handling it” – he answered.
“HANDLING it?” – I asked through my teeth.
“You were running around like a madman, jumping onto the tables and chasing a man with a knife. If Steven didn’t step in, you might have been dead, because Brian was close to slitting your throat” – I said angrily.
Patrick looked at me without a word.
“What?” – I snapped.
“You know his name. I was hoping he was a friend of Steve’s” – he answered.
“He is. But I know him” – I said and buried my face in my hands.
“How? How do you know him?“
“HOW?” – he shouted, and raised his hand in apology for disturbing others in the surgical waiting room.
“How?” – he repeated quietly.
“I don’t remember exactly. Steve and Brian have been friends for years” – I said, hoping to close the topic.
“Yea? Do you know why I got in his face? It was because he started telling people at our table about the lovely times you two spent together” – he said, wincing as he said “lovely”.
“Yea. We always clicked” – I added honestly.
“You must have clicked really well if you cheated on Steven with him.“
“I did not…” – I wanted to say that I haven’t because Steven and I were technically broken up the first time, but I knew the truth.
“He wanted to tell Steven about you two. He said he loved you. I could not let him destroy your wedding day.”
I hid my face in my hands again.
“Annie, the doctor’s here” – Patrick said and I wiped away the tears, leaving black mascara streaks on the sleeves of my ivory wedding gown.
“Don’t worry. Steven lost a lot of blood, but he should be alright. We extracted the knife and closed him up. Someone will notify you once he wakes up. Sorry that your wedding night got ruined” – the surgeon said and walked away.
Steven was going to be alright…
But were WE going to be alright?
P.S. As always, you are more than welcome to use this prompt to inspire your post. If you decide to write something, be sure to pingback to this post, so that I can get an alert and check out your post. (A post on how to do pingbacks can be found here.) If pingbacks are not your thing, feel free to simply leave a link to your piece in the comment section below. The more, the merrier!
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