by Debbie Civil
Chapter 23
The room is cold, and the walls and tile are painted off white. Single desks are arranged in three neat rows. I count twenty-seven desks. This must be a huge Sunday school class. “John 3 16” is scrolled on the dry erase board in neat print. The room smells like magic markers. I’m sitting at one of the desks. The bulk of my dress is making it uncomfortable. This is the room the church uses as a holding room for the bride and her maids. The groomsmen are on the other side of the building. I try to smile, but it’s difficult to be happy. Dad hasn’t answered any of my phone calls. Despite my hopes and prayers, Daddy dearest has disappointed me yet again.
“Chelsea,” Tiller calls. It’s time to go. My heart begins to pound, and my hands are all sweaty. I’m going to marry Peter Jacobs. Forget about my father. Although I wish that he was walking me down the aisle, he isn’t here now. I force myself to shove away the hurt, betrayal, and uncertainty that have been plaguing me. And I hold on to the anger. Dad can’t take this away from me. This is my big day.
“Tiller,” I say as I slide out of the desk. My dress is caught on the side of the desk, and I carefully pull it free.
“Are you ready?” he asks. I smile at him and just when I think that all of the hurt is gone, it really hits me. Tears threaten to fall down my face. But I push them back.
“Tiller, I don’t want to go out there.” My brother dressed in a black and white tux frowns at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you getting cold feet?”
“No. I just don’t want the whole world to know that my Dad doesn’t want to be at my wedding. He’s supposed to be here, Tiller. Why doesn’t Dad want to be here?”
“Because he loves himself more than he loves you, Chelsea. Think about it, he embarrassed himself by buying services from those prostitutes. Don’t you realize that using prostitutes is a crime? Chelsea, Dad’s going to jail. He has shamed the Philips family. How can he show his face here? Chelsea, we need to move on. Okay, just be happy about Peter,” he says. Dad is in trouble. He’s running from the law. Or maybe he’s running from me. I don’t get a chance to ask Tiller any more questions because there is a knock on the door. Carmen sticks her head in.
“Are you coming, Chelsea?” I smile at Carmen.
“Yes, I am.” Tiller gives me a tight hug before gesturing for Carmen to precede us. We walk into the foyer of the church. The place has been decorated with dark purple carnations, and a smiling girl sits at the table to guard the guest book. I wave at her. She smiles at me. The doors to the sanctuary are held open. I peer in and see a lot of people. Peter is really popular. The wedding party is walking down the aisle, being trailed by the flower girls. I clutch my bouquet and Tiller and I enter. People are standing and I can hear the whispered conversations. The consensus is that I’m beautiful. This crowd, comprising mostly of strangers, does not hold my attention. It’s the handsome guy with a relieved smile on his face that’s waiting for me. He probably thought that I had cold feet. I’ll have to explain everything to him later. As I near the front of the church, I catch sight of Derrick, Ivy, and Molly. I invited the group mainly because we went through something together. I have Derrick to thank. He was the one that carried me out of Brent Harris’ house. The rest of the crew, minus Teresa, who’s still in the hospital, are two rows ahead of Ivy. When Molly sees me she actually waves. Her face is beaming. I think that she’s happy that she got to where her really tight black dress somewhere. Ahead of them are my relatives. I see Aunt Bianca wiping away tears. Kenny is smiling, and my Uncle Ben and his wife look like they want it all to be over. They don’t know me that well. I smile at Sandra, and the other staff that I invited. After all, they’ve spent the last weeks serving me and the influx of guests. They got a break last night because all of us stayed in a hotel in town. That is much more practical than driving back and forth from Gately to Elmview. Rain’s parents are sitting in the row right behind my bawling mother. I feel sorry for her. At least Mrs. Jacobs has her husband to lean on for support. I stare at Peter, and his smile stretches wider the closer I get. Finally, I hand my bouquet off to rain and Tiller puts my hand in Peters.
He squeezes my hand, and I smile at him.
The sermon is a blur. The other couple who didn’t make it to the altar had already chosen the songs, “This I promise you” by N'Sync, “I Found Love” by BB Winans, and “Dangerously in love” by Beyonce. The wedding singers were a young married couple who were members of the church. They are pretty good. I find myself crying whenever they sing. Then, the vows happen. I realize something while listening to Pastor Sanchez speak of the commitment I’m making to Peter. He is my new family. We will have children, grow old and die. We will also overcome all of life’s hurdles together. I’m gaining a best friend for a lifetime.
“I do!” My words are eager and elicit a few chuckles. I don’t pay attention to Pastor Sanchez until he says, “You may kiss the bride.” Peter lifts my veil and plants a tender kiss on my lips. We wrap our arms around each other and a wave of relief washes over me. We are married now. My parents can no longer separate us. We pull back from one another and follow the pastor into his office, which is backstage. We sign the marriage license and leave the cramped room. The wedding party files in and out to sign as witnesses. Then, the music plays and we are walking up the aisle and into the empty foyer. Peter and I stand by the exit to wait for our well-wishers. I hug a lot of people. I don’t even know most of them. But that doesn’t matter. It takes over twenty minutes for the crowd to fizzle out. Then, there is the nightmare of pictures. We take them outside in the beating hot sun. I stand beside my husband on the church steps and pause for a series of shots. Then, the wedding party are in the mix. After the group shots, we take individual ones. After I’m done taking my individual shots, I descend the stairs, being mindful of the train. I’m starving. Let’s hope the food at the reception tastes good. I stand on the lawn and watch my friends as they pose. June twenty-sixth turns out to be a decent day. It drizzled in the morning, but then the sun came out.
“Hello, Mrs. Jacobs!” my mother greets as she walks over to me. She’s dressed in an elegant high-necked pale pink dress that has a belt that wraps around her waist. I smile wide at her.
“Hey Mom. How are you?” She’s been through a lot. The constant presence of the press is one of those things. They were kicked off these premises by the police before I arrived. But I’m sure that they will be waiting for a shot. They did take some pictures when I exited the hotel. Whatever, I could care less about the press snapping pictures of me. I just want this night to be over. I’m ready for the rest of our lives to start. Peter and I have been given a wing of the mansion. Until the trial is over, there’s no sense in getting a house. At least we will still be protected from the press. The mansion is a fortress. Besides, no one will bother us. They know better.
The reception is held at an Italian restaurant. The place has very little decoration. The chairs are draped with purple cloth, and the table cloths are colored gold. There are edibles as centerpieces. Other than that, it looks like any other fancy restaurant with dim lighting. We enter the room with the host, an energetic middle- aged man introducing us as “Mr. and Mrs. Peter Jacobs.” Everyone stands and some bang on silverware. The wedding party is standing around the dance floor. I don’t like being the center of attention. I stare over at Peter who grimaces at all of the excited cheering. After everyone has fussed and taken about a million pictures of us, Peter and I sit at a small round table near the dance floor. We are directly across from one another. The DJ starts to play classical music as waiters and waitresses dressed in button down collared shirts and black dress pants begin to serve appetizers which include cheese and crackers, fruit, and bread and butter. Peter and I eat all of what’s given to us. He’s probably as hungry as I am.
“I’m sorry that we can’t go on an exotic honeymoon, Chelsea,” Peter tells me.
“I’m not. When the trials are all over, people will forget
about us. Then, we’ll go away for a long time, Peter.” He grins at me. I’m excited that we’re spending a few days on the Cape. It was supposed to be a surprise, but Eli can’t keep a secret. Okay, I may have eavesdropped. Either way, I’m still excited about going away with Peter. That’s good enough for me, for now.
“I can’t wait. So, what was the hold up? For a moment, I thought you left me hanging.” I know exactly what Peter’s talking about. I sigh.
“I was super upset when Dad didn’t show. Tiller had to cheer me up,” I tell Peter. He nods in understanding.
“Oh. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” he says, regret in his dark eyes.
“Well, you’re here now,” I remind him. His smile is instant and wide. The male server clears away our empty dishes. I have no clue what’s next. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, neither did he. This entire wedding has been rushed. But I don’t care. Now I’m Mrs. Jacobs, a happy wife who can’t wait to start forever.
The main course is chicken, roasted potatoes, linguine salad and steamed broccoli. All of the food is amazing. After everyone is finished eating, it’s time for our first dance. The song is “With You” by Chris Brown. I pick this song, and Peter didn’t seem to care. Besides, who doesn’t love this song? Peter is a good dancer, though, I’m not surprised. I learned to accept that he’s the golden child. I hold him tight and twice his lips gently meets mine for a feather light kiss. It feels intense. Even though people are cheering, taking pictures, and watching, it doesn’t feel that way. After that, I have my first dance with my brother. The song is “Because you loved me” by Celine Dion. Peter and his mother dance to “Mama” by Boys II Men. All in all, that’s the big tear jerker. As soon as the dancing starts, Peter and I begin greeting people. It is overwhelming how many cousins he has. Some of them give me cautious looks. His Grandma Lucinda frowns at me. She’s a tiny woman with thick black curls. She wears a pink top and a matching frilly skirt with white skinny heels. I stare at her with weariness.
“Peter,” she says before wrapping him in a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you.” She glares daggers at me and my heart plummets. She doesn’t like me. I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised. Someone is going to blame me for everything that Peter’s been through.
“Grandma, it’s nice to see you again.” My clueless husband has no idea how his grandma feels about me. And apparently neither do I. After she releases Peter, she wraps me up in a bear hug. She releases me and studies my expression. The woman scowls again, and this is giving me whiplash.
“You need to come over for dinner, sometime. Chelsea, you are way too skinny,” the woman declares before kissing my cheeks and walking off. Peter doesn’t seem confused in the slightest. We make our rounds, and when I get to my old high school friends, it takes everything for me not to bolt. After all, I am the stupid one that invited them. They are all sweaty from dancing the night away. I guess I caught them on a break.
“Congratulations Chelsea,” Molly says and they all nod, as if her words said it all. Suddenly I’m mourning the friendship that we all used to have. I stupidly messed this all up. I want to apologize to them, but Tia makes her way over to us. The girls ended up wearing the purple dress Carmen selected. They all are even wearing matching shawls.
“Hi Chelsea,” Tia says with a whine. I want to hurl because James is actually eying her with desire in his eyes. But my cousin glares at him then focuses on me.
“Don’t you want to dance with us?” she asks. I don’t want to dance. I’m exhausted and want it all to end. But I don’t tell Tia something that rude. Instead, I take a page out of Jake’s playbook and shrug. Tia glares at me. “Okay. Well, don’t forget to save me a dance.” She walks away, and James’ eyes are glued to her butt. I want to hit him on the head with the center piece. Instead, I smile down at him.
“Guys, look, I’m sorry for everything that happened with Will. I…”
“How sorry are you?” James asks, his eyes suddenly filling with aggravation. “I lost my job and can’t pay rent. What’s going to happen to me?” Ladies and gentlemen, here is the heart of it all. They are poor, and I’m not. I can recover from the damage of being kidnapped. I can hire the best therapists and didn’t get fired when I disappeared. In fact, I didn’t have nor need a job at the time. I am privileged, and they are not. James isn’t saying what he’s saying to be mean. He feels as though he’s lost. I sigh.
“James, I’ll do anything to help. After my honeymoon, I’ll give you a call,” I offer, conveying my sincerity. Ivy saves the moment by taking a picture with me. She gushes about my dress, and it almost seems genuine. I sigh and let her steer the conversation away. I allow the rest of the night to go on the same way.
