Page 84 of The Fool

The ceremony is uneventful as far as wedding ceremonies go, apart from the pregnant pause Dean gave before agreeing to take Emma as his wife. The suspense was nerve-wracking and even I felt sorry for my little sister. She might well have hurt me beyond repair, but no one deserves to be left hanging at the altar. Thankfully, he put us all out of our misery by finally giving his confirmation, but not before glancing my way.

Of course, after the ceremony, comes the never-ending list of photographs Emma has requested, most of which involve her bridesmaids. However, after the main ones have been snapped, and I feel like I’ve lost hours of my life, I decide to sneak off and have a drink of champers with Ben. He wasn’t hard to find, sitting strategically at the bar with his back to everyone, so we grabbed a few glasses and went in search of a more secluded hiding spot.

Once I’m sitting with him, I finally begin to relax and stop worrying about all the people of whom I only have bad memories. Alas, I’m still pulling at the top of my dress every few minutes in an attempt to cover my bust, which only causes Ben to laugh at me again.

“Ben!” someone calls from the crowd. “We need the bride’s brother, Ben, to have a picture taken with the mother of the bride.”

“Fuck!” he mouths to me, which I take great delight in. Finally, it’s my turn to laugh at him.

“Don’t be long,” I whisper when he eventually hauls himself off his chair. “I don’t feel like talking to anyone here.”

“Believe me, I will be back as soon as I can.”

Without any other words, he marches off in the direction of the crowd while I gulp back another mouthful of champagne. It tastes bitter but does the job of taking the edge off, so I keep at it and try to pretend I’m enjoying it.

“Where’s your date then, Bea?” a voice full of contempt says from behind me. I turn to see Dean scowling at me as he saunters over to take up Ben’s empty chair. His smug edge is back with a bang as soon as he looks right into my eyes with a storm brewing inside of them.

“That seat’s taken,” I utter, though I can tell he’s only going to ignore me.

“It’s my fucking wedding; I can sit where I damn well like,” he replies with his scowl still firmly in place. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m going to do nothing,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “We know you have a problem with me being here, though, so I fail to see why you would want to sit so close to me.”

“Maybe I do have a problem with you,” he mutters before swigging back his beer from the bottle in his hand. I wait for him to elaborate, but he merely stares at me without words.

“OK then,” I mouth and continue to sip my drink, casting my gaze over anything that isn’t him.

“So, where is he?” he sneers. “Where’s thisdateof yours?”

“He’s got a family crisis at the moment,” I tell him truthfully, although I’m sure he won’t believe me. “Some things are more important than you, Dean.”

“Admit it, Bea, there is no date, is there?” he says with a strange expression, one that looks hopeful. “Do you ever think about me, Bea?”

“Sometimes,” I whisper, “nothing good. You wiped away any fond memories by making horrible ones.”

“We could make new ones…great ones, Bea,” he says as he edges closer toward me.

For a moment or three, I just stare at him with nothing but shock and disgust. He, however, does not change his hopeful one. In fact, he looks at me as though he thinks I’m seriously considering his warped suggestion.

“Are you serious?!” I eventually gasp, now looking around to make sure no one can hear this.

“No one compares to you, Bea,” he says, reaching out to cup my cheek, but I’m too stunned to move. It feels like my brain is misfiring all over the place, and I begin to wonder if I’m imagining all this. No one can be this deluded, can they?

“Think about what we could be again, Bea,” he says, his hand now making contact with my skin, causing an uncomfortable heat. “We could –"

“Groom! We need the groom!” someone shouts, finally prompting me to pull back and defensively cross my arms.

“Fuck!” he mutters to himself. With one last look at me, which causes me to flinch over its intensity, he stands up and stomps away, swigging his beer as he does so.

“Oh, my God,” I gasp as soon as he’s left. “Shit!”

_____

Bea

It takes me a good ten to twenty minutes to come out of my stunned silence. By the time I force myself into the dining room for the wedding breakfast, everyone is already sitting at their tables, even the lineup. I might be getting a few odd looks from my family, including Ben, but at least I didn’t have to get pecked on the cheek by the groom who just suggested we run away together. I head straight to Ben’s table, assuming I’m his plus one, as he is to me, however, to my utter horror, my name place is missing. I’m not sitting here. This can only mean one of two things; I’m sitting with the other bridesmaids, most of whom bullied me into that motel room, or I’ve been placed on the top table.

“Bea, honey,” Dad hollers over from the top table, “you’re sitting up here, on the end.”

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