by Abby Brooks
A dull roar blankets the room as folks in the audience chatter with their neighbors, buzzing on about the day, or the weather, or what have you. From my vantage point, I watch our mother step through the doors in the back, look around, and become overwhelmed at the sight of everyone here to celebrate the day. I look to Frank, my eyes darting back and forth, from him to our mother, until he notices her fumbling for a seat. Ha. Does she not remember anything from the rehearsal, either? He slips over to her, extends his arm and loops hers through, then proudly walks her up to the first pew. Kiss ass. It’s not like it was your idea for her to sit up here.
After she’s seated, the doors open wide and the organ begins to play, prompting the room to fall silent.
Da—da—dee-dum. Da—da—dee-dum.
Christy appears in the doorway, a truly beautiful bride, very pregnant, but radiant nonetheless. Her dress is modest, albeit in a timeless, classy way. Her shoulders are bare, with a halter that drops over her collarbone and plunges down her neckline. The material below her breasts was originally bunched together to narrow the waist. However, given her condition it had to be let out, like a lot, but now it forms an adorable little hammock for her baby bump. At her waist, the material flows down into a small train that follows behind her. Not that I’d ever admit it to Chet, but I’m jealous. He’s a lucky man.
Especially if you stop to consider she met me at the same time—guess there’s no accounting for taste.
Christy begins her walk down the aisle with her mother at her side, beaming as she escorts her only child to the altar. Christy holds her head high, her eyes locked on Chet, fighting to contain a smile. Maybe she really did take a Valium. She’s about a third of the way to us when she passes Leo, who I hadn’t noticed until now.
Half in the bag my ass. He looks ready to be poured into bed to sleep it off.
Unfortunately, he's seated at the end of the pew, next to the aisle, and I cringe as Christy approaches. She's almost past him, and I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief, when…
Shit.
Leo leans forward and extends his arm. He reaches so far, I think he may fall out of his seat and onto his face. Only he doesn’t. No, however embarrassing that might have been, by comparison to what he actually does, it would have been so much better. Instead, he touches Christy’s ass, then casually leans back and loudly whispers to his date, “I don’t care if she is pregnant, she’s still smoking hot.”
Maybe in his drunken stupor, he didn’t realize that, literally, the entire room had their eyes focused on her and just witnessed the whole affair, but I am speechless—and that never happens. His date sneers as she looks away, trying to ignore his rambling. Hank—seated on the other side of the girl—stares at our brother, slack-jawed, as he glances back and forth between Leo and me. Thanks for your help, little brother.
Christy stops and turns to look behind her, visibly confused about what happened. After she’s had a second to process Leo’s actions, her confusion turns to horror. Making matters worse, her stopping short has a cascade effect, causing the music to abruptly stop as well, which feeds the gasps and gossip erupting in the room. Our mother, seated only a few feet away, has one hand covering her mouth as she shakes her head in disbelief.
How on Earth did we go from happy day to complete chaos in five seconds? Answer—Leo.
Much as I don’t want to make eye contact with Chet, I know if I don’t do something, like right now, he’ll come flying past me and kill that boy. In a church. On his wedding day.
Double shit.
Reluctantly, I turn to my brother. The heat from his rage radiates off him as he stands motionless, seething with contempt and mulling what to do. I step up and lean in to him. “Chet, that was completely unacceptable, I know. And I promise you, we’ll handle it. Hell, I’ll kick his ass myself. But now is not the time,” I whisper. “Focus on your bride. She’s the only thing that matters now.” Chet pulls at his collar, loosening the tie as he breathes long, heavy breaths. When he looks to Christy, the anger in his eyes softens.
“Alright. For now,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
Once Christy sees Chet waiting for her, she regains her composure and resumes her walk as best she can. The music starts again, hushing the chatter in the audience back to a murmur. Christy’s smile has vanished, her lips now form a thin, flat line, but her head is high, and she finishes her walk with the grace of a saint, all things considered. She takes her place across from Chet and her mother stops across from me.
The reverend clears his throat and begins. Things settle down as the audience returns their focus to the bride and groom, until Leo starts fidgeting around, making a scene. Again.
Chet looks to me, and I acknowledge the issue. “I’ll handle it,” I whisper. After getting Hank's attention, I repeatedly jerk my head sideways towards Leo and draw my hand across my neck.
Cut it out or kill him, I don’t care which.
Hank makes a scene of his own as he shuffles seats with the red-faced girl between them. After he’s taken his place next to Leo, he elbows him in the gut. Leo groans and Hank sits back in his seat, pleased with himself. He even winks at me, smiling like he’s managed to solve world hunger. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was adopted.
Once again, the reverend clears his throat and does his best to pick up where he left off. The only saving grace in this situation is that once Chet and Christy look into each other’s eyes, everything else seems to fall away. Lord, I know I don’t pray often, but please…please, if you’re listening, let Leo pass out, or something, until this is over. Could you? I promise I’ll change my ways.
Thankfully, the ceremony continues without interruption, and when the reverend asks for the rings, I decide now is not the time to joke about being unable to find them. It could’ve been hilarious—under different circumstances. I dig them from my vest pocket and, as I hand them over, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I catch a glimpse of Chet with tears in his eyes.
He speaks first, echoing each word from the reverend before placing the small band on Christy’s finger. Christy, in turn, echoes the words from the reverend and places Chet’s ring on his finger, only his gets stuck when she tries to push it over his knuckle. Just like Chet to have stupid, thick knuckles like his stupid, thick head. Everyone giggles as she leans in, putting a little weight behind her effort to push the ring back. Even Chet chuckles as he finishes the job for her.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!” The reverend steps back, allowing Chet to take his bride in his loving arms to kiss her. They turn to the guests, and indeed, tears of pride roll down his cheeks.
There it is. Perhaps for the first time in his life, my older brother has found happiness.
Chapter Three
Meredith
I’m not sure coming today was the right decision. Allow me to rephrase. I am quite sure coming today was the wrong decision. But I’m sure if my parents told me 'to use today as a break from life’s drama’ or 'what a good excuse it would be to get out of the house' one more fucking time, I would have lost my mind. How did I not remember how nosy and overbearing they can be before I moved home? Good question. Besides, it’s not true and they know it. I have a job. Okay, working two days a week in the office at the farm supply store may not seem all that impressive, but apart from tax season, the demand for corporate accountants around here is nil. So anyway, here I am. Against my better judgement.
I will concede that focusing on something happy and hopeful like a wedding, even if it’s only for a few hours, is a pleasant change of pace from the last few months... What’s the problem, then? Well, I have history with the Wilde clan. Specifically, with the handsome groomsman standing up front. And, if the rumors about him are true, he is as cocky as he ever was. What happened between us was so long ago it might qualify as ancient history, but my feelings for him run deep. He haunted my dreams through college—and my marriage—a thought I remain uncomfortable admitting, even t
o myself. Feelings no one ever need know about, least of all, him. But then, why would he? I had one rule about coming today.
Avoid Gabe Wilde.
When Leo made an ass of himself by sexually assaulting the bride, I thought things were headed for disaster. But now? Seeing true joy on Chet’s face, I’m glad I came. Even if my life is a wreck, what a good reminder that there’s always hope.
The official takes a hand from the bride and groom and pronounces, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Chet Wilde.” Everyone stands to clap and cheer, and someone, I can’t make out who from my crappy, corner seat on the far side of the room, lets out an ear-piercing whistle. That’s just the inane sort of thing Hank Wilde used to do. If it was poorly timed, or generally in bad taste, he was the man for the job. At least, way back when. I’m sure he’s grown out of that by now.
Chet takes his wife’s hand in his own and they step down, beginning their walk towards the back, a symbol of the start of their new lives together. So. Sweet. When Christy rubs her belly, I realize how envious I am. Happily In love, married, and pregnant—all the things I’ve always wanted, but somehow haven’t found for myself. Yet.
The couple barely makes it ten steps when my fantasy of life in her shoes is interrupted. I, along with everyone else, gasp at the sight of Chet and Christy stopped in front of Leo. Is he holding up a flask? I can’t make out what Leo says from here, but Chet is not amused. Apparently, neither is the girl he's with, because she smacks him across the cheek and storms out.
O-M-F-G.
Chet pulls Leo to his feet by the collar of his jacket. Right up and out of the pew, as if he’s nothing more than a toy. Can this really be happening? Two, once in a lifetime, you wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t see it with your own eyes events, in one wedding? This is so not part of my fantasy-life-in-her-shoes. God only knows how she’s feeling.
My view of the action is obstructed by the backs and shoulders of everyone in front of me, also scrambling for a clear path to gawk at the spectacle. My solution? Well, in complete disregard for that one rule I had for the day, I climb up on the pew in search of a better view. But when you’re lucky to measure five feet two in your tallest shoes, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. You know?
The room is too noisy—and I’m too far away—to make out what is being said, but I do spot their mother, little Marie Wilde, pushing against the crowd to get to her boys. I look back at Chet and Leo and…if I didn’t know better, I’d think Leo is about to take a swing at Chet. Oh my God! He just did!
If I know anything about this family, there’s no chance this ends with civil conversation now. The Wilde’s aren’t fighters, per se, but Gabe used to say, in a family of six strong-willed boys, standing their ground was an everyday part of life.
Chet responds swiftly. He releases Leo with his right hand, draws back and bashes his youngest brother in the jaw. Leo staggers, his head wobbling on his shoulders but he doesn’t fall. “Holy shit.” I don’t mean to curse out loud, but that punch landed with so much force, the sound echoed off the walls. How is Leo even conscious right now?
The audience gasps in horror and then falls quiet.
Gabe, Hank, Jack, and Frank all rush in to help, with Gabe physically placing himself between his brothers, while Jack restrains Chet.
Gabe shouts at Leo to calm down, but as soon as Gabe turns to Chet, the inebriated fool throws a wild punch in their direction. Unfortunately, Gabe's standing in the line of fire and Leo's fist grazes his jaw.
Chet wrestles an arm free and surges forward with another punch of his own, which also strikes Gabe in the face, and knocks him out cold.
Gabe!
Hank’s eyes are as big as saucers as he hooks his arms under Gabe and drags him into the hall. Jack quickly checks on Chet and Christy before he and Frank restrain Leo and escort him out. Chet places a hand on the belly of his bride, checking that she is alright. Then he wipes his brow and bellows in his deep, gravelly voice, “Show’s over.” And that’s it. Without another word, he swoops Christy up and carries her out through a side door, leaving the room awash in chatter and gossip. This will be the talk of the county by tomorrow morning. That’s one thing I never missed about a small town. For sure.
Visibly upset, Marie clambers onto a pew to get everyone's attention. As the only other person standing on a pew at this point, I recognize my cue to slink back into the crowd. I’m a fly on the wall…nothing more. The goal is to make it through the evening without being noticed. Remember?
“Excuse me. Excuse me, everyone. Can I have your attention?” Marie asks with a strained voice. As people take notice, a hush settles back over the room. “Please forgive our…our little…err…family indiscretion.” The weight of her words forces her to pause while she chokes back a sob. “If you’ll please make your way outside to the reception area in the back, there are refreshments and snacks. Things may be delayed just a bit as we get all of this sorted out. Thank you again for joining us today.” Marie carefully steps down, retrieves a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress, and bursts into tears.
That poor, sweet woman. She has never shown me anything but kindness and now none of her family is around to comfort her. Reluctantly, I make my way over to Marie, where she sits alone in a pew with her head in her hands. Ugh, I know I’ll regret this, but I can’t stand to see her this way.
I have no clue what you say in a situation like this, so I don’t say a word. I sit beside her and wrap my arm around her shoulder. She sighs and leans in, never looking up to see who's offering the comfort. We sit like that until everyone else has gone. I look around the room, trying to decide if I should say something (and if so, what) and am surprised by how much larger the space seems now. Like it did when I was a kid. Funny, how that works.
When Marie lifts her face to blow her nose, she cocks her head and looks me over, not recognizing me at first. “Oh, my heavens. Meredith? Meredith Still, is that you?” Until a few weeks ago, that wasn’t me. It hadn’t been for years. But when the divorce finalized, the judge gave me the option and I chose to take my parents’ name again, rather than keep Jeff’s. The thought of carrying his name one second longer than I had to raises my blood pressure to an unhealthy level.
I wanted kids, and a house, and a plan for retirement. I knew from the beginning Jeff wasn’t ready, or willing, to grow up and forgo nights at the bar with his buddies—or his stupid fucking gaming sessions—both of which inevitably ran well into the morning. It’s not that I minded him carving out guy time. I minded the phone calls to pick him up from the bar and being a taxi service for his frat buddies on the way home. I minded the excuses I had to make for being late to work. And after all of that, I minded coming home and having to clean up the living room from his ‘game sesh.’ Jesus Jeff, by the time you’re in your thirties, you’re too old to refer to anything as a ‘sesh.’
But the straw that broke this camel’s back was the night his drunk shenanigans turned violent. Yeah Jeff, it was obviously my fault you got drunk and bet money we didn’t have on a hockey game. He didn’t put his hands on me that night, but throwing our china against the wall while screaming obscenities was all the warning I needed. It was bad enough to be stuck in a marriage with a man I didn’t love (much less respect). No way was I sticking around to be treated like one of those plates.
“Yep, Marie, it’s me. Are you feeling better?” I ask as I rub concentric circles on her back.
Marie wipes her tears. “Well honey, I am now, ” she says with a half-smile. “Did you come into town for the wedding?”
“Not exactly. Technically, I’ve moved back in with my folks. You know, just for a little while.”
“Oh. Well, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you came today, dear.” Marie pats my leg. “Have you seen Gabriel, yet?”
Oh God. Yes, I’ve seen Gabe. Today, standing up at the altar, looking hot as ever…and almost every night in my dreams since we were kids.
Chapter
Four
Meredith
Eighteen years ago
Gabe was a senior, living the life of a high school god. And he deserved it. He was the running back for our team. A man in his prime. A handsome, cocky star whose future was rolled out on a carpet in front of him. He was single-handedly responsible for the Jaguars making it to the state championships—again—and he was all too aware.
I was a year behind him, but treated like royalty just the same—guilty by association, I guess. I don’t have the words to express how much I loved him. No. The word love doesn’t do my feelings justice. He was all the things I wasn’t: tall and brave and strong. I didn’t see cocky, only confident. I didn’t see a jerk, only strength.
My parents on the other hand? They saw Gabe in an entirely different light and they weren’t shy about sharing. What I hadn’t realized yet, was how they felt it perfectly within their rights to weigh in on every aspect of my life. That nugget took many, many more years to reveal itself. Daddy lived for opportunities to rant about Gabe. How he wasn’t half the man of his father. How he would never amount to anything. For her part, Mom focused on things like the clothes I wore (and how I wore them), my extracurricular activities, the colleges I applied to, and so on. I was so accustomed to never being heard at home, I thought it was normal. Which, I’m sure lead me to put more pressure on Gabe to hear me, seeing as no one else ever had before. But when I spoke he listened, and as far as I was concerned, we were perfect.
Before Gabe, I was shy, and timid, and introverted. And not in a nervously cute way, mind you. My high school experience would have been that of a ghost, invisible to everyone around her, had I not been on the arm of Gabe Wilde. He gave me the strength and confidence I lacked naturally. He enabled me to stretch myself into the person I dreamt I could be, and not feel embarrassed by it. No one mocked me. No one picked on me. All because of him. The Wilde name meant something in our community and I was associated with it. Gabe and I were more than high school sweethearts, and everyone knew it. We were destined to end up together, much to the dismay of my folks.
