by Heather Gean
I was left standing there holding the stillborn mess that was our relationship, and my chest sank straight into my churning stomach. I wanted to yell out after him, tell him the truth, the whole truth, but I couldn’t. I was certain I could no longer breathe. I didn’t need to watch him go to know he was gone, so I shut the door without ever lifting my eyes, and collapsed to the floor behind its safety.
By the time Liz came to drag me to downstairs for hair and make-up, I was a mess. I heaved sobs into her shoulders and wiped tears into her hair for at least half an hour before she convinced me that the coffee waiting downstairs was miraculous. It was. The team of make-up artists had stormed off in frustration at being unable to work around the spontaneous rivers that would stream from my eyes and mucky up all their hard work, but the coffee had an unusually calming effect on me by the time the hair stylist had finished and the make-up crew had returned. I’m pretty sure Liz and the other bridesmaids had slipped something into it, and while under normal circumstances that would’ve been unacceptable, on that occasion it only made me proud to call them my friends.
Chapter 22
“Do you need anything before you do this? I have a flask in my garter if you need a little encouragement,” Liz said as she straightened the veil trailing down the back of my head.
I was coated in so much make-up, expensive material, and hair products that my movements were as stiff and hesitant as if I might break. A member of the wedding crew came over to check the status of the white, lapel microphone clipped along the top of my wedding gown. I grew more terrified to walk through the doors and down the aisle, but on the bright side, I wasn’t puking anymore. Another hair and make-up person swept over to me, smoothing and dabbing the last-minute adjustments before scurrying away in satisfaction. At least if I was marching to my death, I would look beautiful. The annoyingly fresh blossoms of my overflowing bouquet trembled along with my hands.
“I definitely need to do this sober.”
Five girls wearing dresses the color of blood were lined up in front of me, glancing back ever so often to make sure I hadn’t run off.
“You look stunning.”
“Not really one of my top concerns right now, but thanks.”
“Oh, and before we go, please, please, please don’t throw the bouquet to me.” The orchestra began to play the wedding march, and as every part of my body liquefied, the melodramatic thought ran through my head that it may be the last song I ever heard. I was struck with the overwhelming fear that someone might actually kill me when they figured out what Ashley and I were up to. “You can do this!”
One by one the girls disappeared through the doorway. I inhaled as deeply as possible and held it there behind my smile until I thought my lungs might explode. This was it. I stepped into the doorway, and five hundred people plus a camera crew rose from their seats. I sucked in deep again and smiled so hard my cheeks ached. It was the longest walk of my life. Between all the people staring at me and the lightning storm of camera flashes, I was at least halfway down the aisle before I even realized there was a groom waiting at the end of it. Ashley’s thin-lipped smile conveyed the terror I felt. It was the guy standing beside him, though, that was looking at me with the most admiration. I was already barely breathing, but when I saw how he looked at me, my heart wanted to stop, and I imagined that that’s how a groom should look a bride as she walked down the aisle. I looked back at Ashley and locked eyes with him, as if to say, Please don’t screw this up. After an eternity I finally made it to the altar and passed off the flowers to Liz, which was the closest she ever planned to get to a bouquet. Then it was just me, Ashley, and a preacher I’d never met before who held a striking resemblance to Pat Sajak. Ashley and I joined hands.
The preacher rambled on about God for a while. The bones in my feet pressed directly into the soles of the high heels I wore, begging the preacher to get on with it. I wanted to break this thing up already, and suddenly, it was time.
“Christopher Ashley Schroeder,” the preacher began, “do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to honor and to cherish, to have and to hold, to love and care for until death do you part?”
Ashley stared straight at me and hesitated. He hesitated. I tried to reserve the panic on my face to my eyes so as not to be detected. I raised my eyebrows at him and suddenly became very conscious of the crowd staring at us, of the sound of all of those people attempting to be quiet and the sound of my own heartbeat suddenly very loud in my ears. He finally offered a bold smile. I squeezed his fingers. “I do.”
I do.
My heart sank, and it was only by a miracle that I didn’t faint. I do? My eyes pleaded with him, reprimanded him. My fingers squeezed harder and harder at his hands. We’d planned it all out! It wasn’t supposed to go this way. We were supposed to break it up together! It was then I realized that the preacher was in on it. Maybe Ashley had meant what he said when he proposed the break-up to me, but some point thereafter he had changed his mind in time to tell the preacher to ask him first. Or maybe this was Ashley’s way of ensuring that I would make it all the way to the vows and that I’d be too scared to say yes. Maybe he’d just chickened out. The thing that got to me most was that he didn’t look sorry. My eyes glossed over with tears to the point that I could only see the shape of his unmoving face.
“Lorraine Beverly Clarke,” the preacher began, “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to honor and to cherish, to have and to hold, to love and care for until death do you part?”
I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I finally blinked and two tears streamed down my face. I saw Van standing behind Ashley, staring at me. I closed my eyes and two more tears dripped down. It had to be done.
“I don’t.”
The preacher looked as if he might drop his bible. He cleared his throat as a murmur went through the crowd. “A little bit louder, dear. No one could hear you.”
Laughter overtook the room.
I lifted my chin and looked Ashley squarely in the face. There was fear in his eyes, and it empowered me, not because I didn’t feel the same fear, but because I knew I could overcome it.
“I’m sorry, I won’t marry him.” I dropped his hands and turned towards the crowd in defeat. Camera flashes went off all around me. Some of the guests stood up to leave, some began to cry, but most still sat in quiet confusion. “It’s just that--” I snatched the lapel microphone off of my dress and held it to my mouth so that I could be clearly heard over the suddenly roaring crowd. “It’s just that, I’m not gonna stand up here and lie just to make everyone happy. I don’t love him. I never did. And I don’t give a damn if it’s socially acceptable or not.”
Mrs. Schroeder stormed towards the altar in her pearl silk, almost-white gown, and screeched at the top of her lungs, “I knew you didn’t have what it takes to be in this family!” With a self-satisfied laugh and a jaunt in her step, she retreated towards the back entrance.
Another roar went up in the crowd. “Actually,” I started again in the mic, “actually, Ashley’s the one who doesn’t have what it takes. He planned to break up this wedding at the altar with me, he agreed to it, but he backed out right up here in front of God and everyone.” Mrs. Schroeder turned back to glare at me, her smile having since melted into an expression of horror. With a final curse at me, she was out the door I’d just entered through. “Mrs. Sarah Schroeder, everyone,” I motioned after her, weakly trying to grasp at humor.
“Why are you all here?” I asked the crowd. “Cause you wanna believe in love?” I threw my hands up in frustration. “This isn’t love. Since when can the government decide what love is? Just because everyone’s scared of what real love might mean sometimes doesn’t mean we need to--”
Ashley grew angry with my rambling and reached over in an attempt to take the mic from me. His cheeks grew crimson as he tried to reach over me to take hold of it. Within seconds a simple, “Rainy, give me the mic” turned into a scuffling
match between Ashley and me. He grabbed one of my arms in a painful attempt to drag my body close enough that he could reach the microphone. Liz lunged at him from behind me, dropping the bouquet as she did so. Van reached up to grab Ashley by the jacket. My father emerged from the front row and took a swing at Ashley, yelling, “Don’t you touch my daughter!” His fist connected with Ashley’s jaw in a sickening smack noise. I ducked to the floor in an attempt to escape the fight but just walked into more angry people. A few steps found me with a camera in my face.
“Miss Clarke, could you tell us a little about your decision to call of the wedding?”
Another camera person knocked the one in front of me off balance, trying to take over the interview. Another reporter hurried up beside me. “So, Rainy, can you tell us what happens now?”
Another appeared through the crowd. “Miss Clarke, does this have anything to do with your father’s secret political agenda?”
I brought my hands to my face, wiping away the tears that hadn’t stopped, and tried to push my way through the crowd. The train of my dress held me back, and I held tightly to the bodice of my dress to keep it from coming down right there in front of the entire world. I began to sob and hit at the sea of people with my fists and forearms, but no one budged, and everyone yelled at me.
Suddenly, Van appeared beside me, grabbing me up in his arms and swinging me around to gain some space around us. I felt one of my heels hit someone, likely in the head. I buried my face in Van’s ripped jacket. “Please get me out of here,” I begged as I clung to his neck. I didn’t want to feel like the girl who needed saving, but with that mob out for blood, I wasn’t going to object.
Van continued to fight our way through the crowd, which was soon broken up by police, three of which located us and escorted us out. I heard all of this, but I never looked up. I’d seen enough angry faces, and I continued to hear plenty of horrible remarks aimed at me. Van made a shushing sound in my ear. “Everything’s all right, Sunshine. Everything’s okay.”
Everything wasn’t okay.
The police secured one of the rooms used for wedding preparations and began to put members of the bridal party in it upon my approval. I remained across Van’s lap even after he sat down on a sofa. I kept my face buried in his jacket and cried uncontrollably for what seemed like hours. One by one, the people I cared most about were let into the room. Liz rushed in first, running over and throwing her arms around my back. I never let go of Van, but her sobs rocked against me until she straightened up enough to welcome Sasha into the room, who thankfully had gone unharmed due to her visible pregnancy. My parents were the last to come in, arriving even after the paramedics had shown up to check everyone out. The police talked over walkie-talkies, still trying to decide which of us needed to take a trip down to the station.
When a paramedic approached me, I was still trembling. The woman put a hand on my shoulder. “Miss Clarke, I need to make sure you’re all right. Did you receive any injuries?”
I shook my head. I felt Van’s hand slide over my upper arm where Ashley had grabbed me, possibly to cover up marks. “Miss Clarke, I need to make sure you’re not in shock. Can you talk to me? We need to check your blood pressure.”
Van shook me a little in his arms. “C’mon, Rainy. You’re all right”
The majority of the sobs had stopped but I continued to sniffle violently. I finally opened my eyes, which were swollen from crying and sensitive to the light. Van looked desperately at me as he helped me scoot to a sitting position beside him on the sofa. The paramedic’s stare probed me with concern. She shined a tiny light in both of my eyes. I winced and shut them.
“Miss Clarke, do you feel any pain?”
I brought my arms up to my chest as if to protect myself. “I’m okay,” I hoarsely offered.
“Good,” she said resolutely as she slipped the blood pressure band around one of my arms. After ensuring that my heart wasn’t going to explode, she moved on to talk with the cops and attend to the others.
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and stared at the folds of my white gown. Van mimicked my position and pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with me. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
I squeezed my mouth shut as I shook my head, and my eyes filled up again.
Van put one of his arms securely around my shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Ashley set you up.”
I lowered my head into my hands. How had I not seen it coming? Why had I trusted Ashley to follow through with the plan? What kind of naïve girl had I been?
“I let everyone down,” I murmured through my fingers.
Van chuckled a little. “Rainy, I bet every one of those LUCC protestors outside started a riot when they heard you called it off. You’re a national hero right now. Maybe not to the guests of the wedding, but to half of the country.” He squeezed me again. “I’m so proud of you.”
I wiped my face. “You aren’t angry with me?”
“How could I be?” he asked.
“I didn’t tell you about the plan to call it off. I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you.”
“It’s all right. I understand. And I haven’t exactly been the most receptive person lately.”
I nodded with my hands still on my face. “I thought you were done with me,” I added.
A grin spread across Van’s face, and he reached for my hand. “I think we can work something out.”
“Um, Rainy,” I heard my dad say. My hands slid from my face, and I looked up at him remorsefully. Dried blood lined his bottom lip, and a cut on his forehead threatened to require stitches. He pulled me up into a hug, and I began to cry again. “Honey, it’s all right.”
“Are you going to jail?” I asked. “Daddy, I’m so sorry.”
“No, not right now, at least. I’m going to the hospital. Nothing serious, they’re just going to check out my head. Shhh.” He pulled back so that he could look me in the face. “I’m proud of you for standing up in what you believe in, Rainy. It’s how we always raised you to be.”
“I’m sorry if you don’t get re-elected.”
He nodded and began to laugh, almost as if he was delusional. “Who knows, maybe it’ll help my chances. There could be quite a change of politics coming. It might not be so bad. I’m sure all the rioters would back me, at least.”
I laughed and nodded, wiping a few more stray tears from my face.
My mom appeared at my dad’s side. I knew she’d been crying. She put a hand on his shoulder. “We should get to the hospital. They’re ready when we are.”
My dad nodded and gave me one last hug before retreating towards the door. My mom lingered, her eyes avoiding me as if she couldn’t figure out what to say. “I told you love is not always easy, Rainy, and that you needed to be willing to make sacrifices,” she began. My heart sank. She cleared her throat and started again. “I didn’t think you fully understood what I meant at the time, but I realize now that you did, maybe better than I did.” Her voice cracked and her words caught in her throat. She reached out to me. “I’m sorry for not understanding, Rainy. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I laughed through more of my own tears. “If you can forgive me, I think we can call it even.”
She pulled me in to one last hug before joining my dad and leaving with the paramedics.
While I stood on unsteady legs, Liz and Sasha came over to wrap me in a group hug. Their faces were streaked and smudged with eyeliner. “It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me the plan,” Liz said into my hair. “I would’ve attacked Ashley the second I realized he backed out.”
I broke into a big smile and reached to wipe my face. Sasha offered a tissue to me, helping to dab away some of my own black tears, I was sure. “Thank you,” she said softly, “for everything. Samson is gonna be so happy.” She rubbed the silk over her belly.
I half-shrugged with a saddened expression. “It doesn’t change anything. The DML still exists and--”
Sasha raised he
r hand to my mouth and shook her head at me. “If everyone walked around thinking that they could have no small part in creating a big change, nothing would ever change.”
The police escorted Liz and Sasha back to their suite before offering to do the same for me. I didn’t want to be alone, so I grabbed Van’s hand and refused to let go until he followed me upstairs with the cops. No one had seen Piper since she had rushed into the crowd and begun interviewing people. No doubt she was involved in the so-called riot outside of the hotel.
The second the police dropped us off at the suite, I stumbled to the unmade bed in my wedding gown and collapsed to it. I was exhausted as if I’d been fighting this fight for months without sleep, but there was a certain relief in it being over, even if I would contend with the consequences for months to come. Van occupied the space beside me, resting on his side so he could watch me. He didn’t try to talk things out right then, he just ran his fingers through my hair until I fell asleep.
When I woke up the world seemed different. Van dozed beside me with the television on. My wedding was all over the national news. The TV was muted, but I could still read the headlines: Congressman’s daughter calls off wedding to Schroeder heir. I took the remote from Van’s stomach and flipped to the next news station. Its headline read: Riot at the Clarke-Schroeder wedding. Video footage from both inside and outside the wedding revealed protestors. Apparently LUCC groups in all major cities had started riots and marches. This thing had definitely gone national.
Ashley’s was the next face I saw on the screen. He was shown struggling with escorts to a limousine with the Schroeder family crest on it, perhaps the one I’d ridden in during my first visit to New York. The news anchor reported that Mr. Schroeder’s publicist had released a statement regarding his remorse that Miss Clarke had made the decision she had, and that the Schroeders stand by the DML and their government. I turned the TV off and tossed the remote to the floor.
