Page 57 of Love Beyond Repair
The vows are beautiful, and of course, they wrote them themselves. Her calling him her savior. Him promising to support her till she no longer needs him.
Everything is perfect – personal and romantic. Exactly what I once hoped would be mine.
Screams of joy echo around the room as they are pronounced husband and wife. Ben kisses her passionately as he punches his fist in the air to celebrate. He leads his new wife back up the aisle, hand in hand, grinning like a man who won the lottery.
I quickly slip my sunglasses on to hide the tears, then hang back as the guests file out behind the happy couple. Amy told me that the wedding party would leave to get professional photos. Both she and Terry are involved, so I was to drive to the reception and wait.
I wasn’t allowed to get drunk before she got there. Her words loop in my head, sharp and repetitive. This is what I have become in my sister’s eyes. She kept telling me todaywas for my benefit. That seeing him married would draw a last line in the sand. I hope she’s right.
***
The hotel is stunning, as I expected, sitting on acres of gardens planted with rose bushes and oak trees. Of course, the sun is shining too, as requested. A long gravel driveway leads up to the grand Victorian mansion. In front of it, a roundabout circles a bubbling fountain straight out of a period drama.
I park the car around the back and head up the steps into the foyer. A dashing young man carrying a tray of champagne offers me a glass that I accept gladly. The bar is filling up with people chattering excitedly about the ceremony. Everyone is gushing about what a lovely couple Ben and Kelsey are.
I retreat to a corner, sip my champagne, and watch. No one here is familiar. I make no effort to speak. I just want to get through the day. When Amy and Terry arrive, she pulls me into a fierce hug.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
I give her a tight smile. She nods, then orders Terry to fetch us all a glass of champagne. He scuttles off toward the bar like a man on a mission. Amy has him so tight around her finger, I’m sure he worships at her feet everymorning and night. He might be a loser professionally, but he adores my sister. He makes her happy. And she deserves that. At least one of us should get a happy ending.
An announcement echoes through the room that we should take our seats for dinner. I scan the seating chart. My table is in the far corner, as far from the top table as humanly possible.
Our table?Twister.
Each table is named after a board game—why, I don’t know. Nothing says romance like family board games and childhood trauma. Hopefully, no one expects us to actually play. I can barely walk, never mind twist, in this dress.
Looking around at my table companions, I can see why we have been stuck together on the outskirts. We arethe people they felt they had to invite but didn’t want to cometable, made up of parents’ friends, forgotten school pals, old teachers, and, well, me.
The meal was delicious, and the speeches are done. They went on a bit, but everyone laughed at the right moments. The lead singer steps up to the mic.
“I would like to invite Dr. and Mrs. Jones to the floor for their first dance as husband and wife,” he says.
Ben stands and holds his hand out to Kelsey; she accepts it, and he leads her onto to the floor. The music starts; it’s a classic love song, but I can’t quite place it, as the wine has started to cloud my brain. They move to the slow beat, and I realize it’s a practiced routine. The dance finishes withhim lifting her in the air. They both laugh, and the crowd erupts in applause.
The knife twists in my chest, letting the blood drain from my body. This wasn’t closure. It was just one more attack. Another reminder that life hasn’t turned out how I hoped, and this is what I’m missing.
I sit at my table of ten, but I’m the only one still there. The reception ended hours ago. I’m still hanging with good old cava. My familiar friend and faithful companion. We keep each other company when times are tough.
My sexy black dress is ruined. I think the dark stain down the front is from a bottle of red I tried, and failed, to drink with grace. Amy begged me to go back to my room after the band finished playing, but I refused. Tonight was a night of hell, but I made it to the end. She told me I needed to be here. To see this. Well, here I fucking am.
But when the band played the final song, wishing the happy couple a wonderful honeymoon. I cracked. Watching from the safety of my chair, they were hugged and kissed repeatedly, told to get a move on and make some babies. Ben’s eyes had met mine a few times over the day. But he never approached me. Never said a word. He kept his distance and looked at me with a coolness I didn’t recognize. He’s probably heard all about my recent behavior.
Monday to Friday, I’m a professional English teacher working my way up the ladder. But, come the weekend, Idisappear. Losing myself in alcohol. Amy’s begged me to get help, but from where I’m sitting, it’s too late.
Tomorrow, the newlyweds will wake up wrapped in silk sheets somewhere. I’ll wake in this dress. Still stained. Still broken. They’ll have a sunrise. I’ll have a hangover.
And the ache of being nothing to the one person I’ll never forget.
Part Three
The Embers
Some love stories circle back, but is it too late…
London
August 2011
