Page 2 of Takedown

Party 1 – Flynn, Adam Finnegan

Party 2 – Dupree, Melanie Elyse

Another memory hits, but I refuse to dwell on it. I do something much worse instead. I look back at the document in my hand. My mouth has gotten drier, and my heart is beating so fast, I’m afraid it’s going to wake my sleeping—I can’t even think of the word to describe him.

My eyes finally land at the top of the form, but I close them before they can focus on the words. I inhale, say another prayer, convinced this time that I will be delivered. And once again, I’m forsaken. Right there in bold, black letters.

Clark County, Nevada. Certificate of Marriage.

A hand flies to my mouth and a sound of despair escapes. The piece of paper slips from my hand, floating in the air conditioned breeze until it lands on the floor. Without a second thought, I grab my shoes and purse and run out of the room, not even sure where I am, but when I step outside the door, I know I’m still in my same hotel, so I sprint to the elevator in my bare feet.

When I get to my room on the twelfth floor, I run to the bathroom, drop to my knees and empty the contents of my stomach. My eyes water and my throat burns. There’s no bitter taste of rancid alcohol or the putrid smell of last night’s dinner. Hardly anything comes up, and I end up gagging for what seems like forever. My body is like a ragdoll’s, hunched over the toilet as if I have no spine to support me. A loud sound escapes, and I realize I’m crying. I don’t remember the last time I cried, but in my Vegas hotel room, with no one there to witness it, I give in and weep.

What the hell have you done now, Melanie?

I finally lift my head and run a shaky hand through my hair. Yesterday was our fourth day in Vegas. Most of the wedding guests had already flown back home, leaving behind only me, Ananda, her new husband, her sister and two of his friends. One of them being Adam.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I lay my head on the toilet, past the point of caring about germs, and think about how once again, I’ve fucked up. Classic Melanie Elyse Dupree. One fuck up after another. So much for starting a new life when I left New Jersey and moved in with my brother. Oh, well. I went two years without nearly ruining my life. I think that’s a record for me.

I finally get up, strip myself bare, and run back to the closet. Like a woman possessed, I pick up the clothes and shoes I had on and put them in a plastic bag, having no intention of taking them home with me. If I get rid of them, maybe that will somehow undo what I did last night. I return to the bathroom, turn the water to scalding and do my best to wash away the last twelve hours. I stick my head under the spray, knowing my hair will pay the price for using the cheap hotel shampoo, but I don’t care. I need to wash it all off. Erase and purge everything that’s happened.

I stay in the shower so long, my skin wrinkles. My stomach growls, but I know there is no way I can tolerate any food right now. Just the thought makes me want to gag all over again.

The water starts to cool, and I step out, wrapping myself in a large white towel. Once I wrap my hair in another, I leave the bathroom and grab my phone. It only takes a few minutes for me to change my flight to this morning instead of this afternoon. For once, I don’t care about the extra cost.

Me – Hey, girl. Changed to an earlier flight. Jason and Alex need me.

Ananda doesn’t reply. I know she’ll probably sleep until noon, which is around the time my plane takes off, and by the time she sees my text, I will be in the air, headed east. I find a comfortable pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved cotton tee. Flip flops will do for now, but I put a pair of boots in my carry-on for when I arrive in Boston.

By the time I do a half ass job of blow drying my hair and putting it in a tight bun, it’s time to leave. I don’t know why I do it, but I stick my head out of the room and look down to each end of the hallway. Once I’ve determined it’s clear, I practically run to the elevator. When I arrive in the lobby, I sprint out of the front door and into a waiting cab. I don’t think I breathe until the wheels of the plane leave the ground and we’re soaring through the air, away from the biggest fuck up of my life, but as I look out of my window, I know I’m only delaying the inevitable.

He’ll come. He’ll find me. There’s no way he’ll keep this a secret. I shake my head and tell myself I don’t care. It’s not up to him. He’ll realize he’s made a mistake too. We’ll talk to Tina, she’s the sister of my brother’s wife, a former lawyer turned restaurant owner. She’ll walk us through the annulment process. It will happen quickly, and things will return to normal.

Yes, that’s exactly what will happen, but when I close my eyes all I see are blue eyes looking down at me while a man dressed as Elvis tells us to repeat after him. I have no desire to remember my vows, but I remember his. I can practically hear him now. His voice, deep and sincere, as he promised to love, honor, and cherish until death do us part.

The wheels of the aircraft hit the ground just before his lips touch mine. At least in my memory. The bouncing of the plane on the runway jolts me out of my daydream, and I shake my head clear of all things related to Adam Flynn.

Things will be fine. I’m being dramatic as usual. My mind is playing tricks on me. Maybe I went to one of those shows and got hypnotized. There’s no way that gigantic diamond is real. I bet it’s as fake as that marriage license. Everyone was probably in on it. Just pulling a prank on me because that’s what my friends do, especially when it comes to me and Adam. Ananda’s been telling me for two years that I’m going to end up with him.

“You’ll have a bunch of his giant babies,”she always jokes.

I lay a hand on my beating heart and laugh out loud, relieved for the first time in hours. It’s pitch-black outside, and I know the harsh January weather awaits.

Exhausted from the long flight and my lack of food, I eagerly wait to exit the plane, desperate to eat and find my comfortable bed. At least I feel a sense of relief at having talked myself off the ledge.

Me. Melanie Elyse Dupree married. That is something that will not happen for a long time, if ever. By the time I walk off the plane and get my bags, it’s well past nine in the evening, and despite the pep talk I gave myself, I’m so tense I feel like I’m going to snap.

My phone starts to ding with text messages and waiting voicemails the instant I take it off airplane mode, but I’m not eager to check any of them. I find the Uber app and request a car home. The harsh wind bites when I finally step outside. I grab my knit hat and scarf out of my purse, but they have little effect against the cold weather. Luckily, the car pulls up.

Once again, I pray to a higher power that the driver doesn’t feel the need to talk the entire ride. All I want now is quiet, and for the first time ever, my prayer is answered. The driver barely grunts at me when I get in, and the late Saturday evening traffic is light for a change. I93 is missing the usual cluster of cars, so it only takes twenty minutes for the Uber to turn down our quiet street.

The apartment is dark, which is not surprising since Jason needs to be at the hospital early in the morning. I run to the front door, eager to get away from the bitter cold. Normally, I hate being alone. I hate quiet. I love the sounds of my two-year-old niece and the chatter of my brother and his wife. I especially love when they have friends or Alex’s family here, which is often, but tonight, I’m grateful to be alone.

I sit on my bed, and when I start to take off my boots, my eyes land on my left hand. I rub my ring finger and shake the thought away. It was a joke, Mellie. A horrible, horrible joke. Ananda, her husband, and Adam are probably having a good laugh at my expense right at this very moment.

Girl, why do you keep lying to yourself?

My phone vibrates and the sudden sensation almost causes me to slide off the bed. I don’t pick it up, but as soon as the vibration stops, it starts again.

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