The Wedding, part dos.

Continuation from “The Wedding” (part 1)

If done with the best of intentions, if done in honesty and kindness commitment felt like something warm, it felt like home. If done with some one you love whole heartedly, with the knowledge that it won’t always be easy but you will always have the other person by your side, and if done with the knowledge that it will be work that you will graciously put in… I think marriage seems glorious. When it comes, I thought to myself, I welcome it.  At that moment I felt my heart open and welcoming to something that had previously seemed scary to me.

The wedding reception was as glorious as they come. Everyone from the groom’s mother, to the college friends, to the brides sister was lit. Their eyes sparkled in the dark, in remembrance of their momentary wedding sobriety, in the joy of being free and celebrating love. Frozen orange Creamsicle beverages made their way around like a classroom cold; you could not avoid them and their tangerine scent. No one had a choice here but to enjoy the heavily liquored desert of a drink. Bobby grabbed the back of my cropped bridesmaid dress and we joined a train of humans doing the Macarena.

“Yessss!” He cried as he took a swig from a glass of clear liquid before passing it to the bride.

“Was that straight up vodka?” I laughed.

“Maybe.”

At the end of the night we took advantage of the Polaroid cameras that were placed on every table hosting a small photo shoot. I heard a small “Jackie!” from the corner of the field of flowers behind me as I pressed ‘send’, texting one of my solo snap shots to ____.
My head spun ever slightly and I ripped around to see Jackie’s groom semi chasing after her. At first I thought this was funny drunk play and banter and giggled, but after walking closer I realized he was trying to make sure she was ok. 

“Vodka.” I whispered to myself. The sound of a bottle of Champagne popping from the dj booth echoed in the distance.

We all clambered onto one of the adorable school buses that were hosting us back and forth between the reception and the hotel. After a mile or so adorable was not the word I would use to describe them; everyone was holding in their perceived vomit. Soon after we got on Jackie had to get off the bus, in fear of forever leaving her angelic bridal persona behind and forever being known as the sick bride. I closed my eyes and imagined how she may feel in the morning, wincing at every turn.

After the reception my best friend and I retired for a private party of 2 in our large suite. I swiped open the giant curtains that faced our beds like an imaginary credit card and then dove into the covers with my bridesmaid dress on.

“Are you going to keep that thing on?” Bobby said.

“Maybe! Mind your businesses.” I laughed. “Ughhh, fine! Look away.” I sprang from the bed jumping on it for several hops before leaping to the ground like a toddler. I swung open my suitcase and pulled the free Polaroid film out of my bra realizing I had taken it with lack of purpose as I didn’t have a Polaroid camera.

“Idiot” I whispered. I took off all of my clothes seeing my body in the mirror across from me and putting one hand on my hip and one on the back of my head. “Oooooh yeaaa.” Bobby and I both laughed loudly.

I threw on a giant tee shirt and now I was about my business. I got back into bed, I noticed Bobby, in his bed a few feet away was also in pajamas.

“Oooh let’s order room service.” He said. “Let’s order everything.”

Thirty minutes later and twenty minutes into our conversation about life and love, a small man walked into our room with several trays of food, sandwiches, fries and random greasy snacks. I breathed in the junk food as I stared out of the huge window across from me giving Denver a visual shake down. We continued our talk for some hours, discussing how we wanted to be the best versions of ourselves and never run from adversity, never be scared of opportunities and never say no to chance. We were dreamers in our own right, but lived by the things we said, we both found ourselves constantly seeking not something better, but something worthy. Both in life, love and in ourselves. I looked down at my phone and had several text messages from ____, at this point it was still a fairly new thing and so all communication made my heart feel giddy and light.

His text read:

“That photo of you made me very happy, I miss you. I don’t know who I will be in 3 years time, or 5 years time or when I’m an old man. But I know that I see you and I together down the road. I picture you being very successful and me helping you with those successes, and us building a life together. I am still getting to know you but already I am proud of you for what you have achieved in your life time and see you going far. That makes me excited, I am excited to see what we have in store for us.” My heart took a leap not because of what he said but because he understood who I was and what I wanted from a relationship. I needed someone who cared not just about us as a couple but about us as individuals that pushed each other to be successful. I always imagined a life with someone in which we were partners in everything, life, business, love, family. I was holding an emotional boner for him and Bobby could tell.

“Jesus Christ, why doesn’t he just get down on one fucking knee already.” Bobby gave me the look.

“Stop, it’s only been a few months.”

“Well he’s talking to you like it’s been a couple years.”

“I know, it scares me but in a good way. With every couple weeks that pass he opens up a little more, becomes more loving towards me, let’s me in and communicates better. I just hope that he is whom he is selling himself as because I’m starting to fall in love with that person and I’ve been sold a story before.”

If he allows himself to grow into the man that I know he can be this will work, I thought to myself. But I didn’t share that part with my best friend that lay eating chicken wings across from me giving me a quizzical look.

-Excerpt from a chapter in my book, unedited.

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