The Less Than Perfect Wedding
Read The Less Than Perfect Wedding Online
Authors: Sam Westland
Copyright 2014 Sam Westland
All rights reserved.
The Less-Than-Perfect Wedding
Book design by Sam Westland
Cover Image Copyright 2014
Used under a Creative Commons Attribution License:
http://www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0
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For Mary Ellen, my first reader
(who fixed so many things)
The Wedding
*
Like all good stories, this one ends - and starts, for that matter - with a wedding.
Not my wedding, though - my sister's wedding. Two years after my wedding, in fact. If you can even call that utter disaster a wedding.
Looking around, however, I have to say that my sister's wedding has turned out much better. As far as I knew, my sister's wedding cake was still intact. I was fairly sure that nobody had tried to sneak out of the wedding yet. Nobody had been caught in the coat closet, half-undressed and devoid of dignity. And I was certain that nobody in this wedding had received a concussion. All in all, a much better start than my own wedding.
I reached down, smoothing out small, imaginary wrinkles in the bright mauve fabric of my bridesmaid's dress as I stood at the front of the small gathering of people. People around me were chatting and murmuring, but I kept my eyes on the ground.
My sister had chosen to go with an outdoor wedding, and surprisingly, it all seemed to be working out. The afternoon sun was shining brightly and the air was pleasantly warm, with the slightest hint of a breeze keeping the air from settling. From my place at the front, I could catch faint strains of chamber music, piping out through the open doors of the church behind the reception.
In the front row, I could see our mother, Janice, somehow managing to sit quietly and not cause trouble. Rick, our father and her ex-husband, had conveniently been seated at the opposite end of the row, where he was immersed in quiet conversation with Blossom, his younger New-Age wife that had replaced our mother in his life. I still caught a couple of frosty glares from Janice, just from being once again forced into such close proximity with her ex-husband, but she had recently met a new man, she had informed us, and so she wasn't quite as focused on making Rick's life into total hell. I wish that she had exhibited such restraint at my wedding.
For a wonder, even Bryan, Blossom's illegitimate son and our stepbrother through forced adoption, was managing to keep himself under control. Sure, he was slumped down sullenly in his seat in the second row, but aside from a few longing glances towards the not-yet-open bar off to the side, he was remaining relatively quiet. Grandma Edith was parked on one side of him, and I knew that she wouldn't hesitate to whack him with her cane if he started mouthing off. I didn't recognize the middle-aged woman on Bryan's other side, but she had not yet acquired the shell-shocked look that came from prolonged conversation with my stepbrother and introduction to his "conspiracies."
On the other side of the aisle, things seemed much more relaxed, without the feeling of pent-up tension that was always in the air whenever my family gathered. The groom's parents, Jeff and Mary, had always struck me as very nice people. They were pleasant, agreeable, restrained, and I don't think they ever understood just how similar my family members were to tightly coiled springs, about to go off at any moment.
A moment later, the music died away, and then swelled again, this time to the familiar tune of "Bridal Chorus." Here comes the bride. Lifting up my eyes, I gazed down the aisle, watching as the back doors of the church opened at the far end and my sister, resplendent in white, made her way out.
The rest of the audience quieted, rising to their feet and turning to gaze back as my sister slowly moved down the aisle. Susan had chosen to go with the traditional wedding dress; her face was covered by the veil, and the long train of her dress moved over the green grass behind her. Beneath the veil, however, I thought that, for just a moment, I caught a glimpse of her smile.
I shifted my eyes up to the side, towards the center of the altar. The priest, Father Hemsley, was wearing his usual slightly unfocused smile, bobbing up and down slightly on his heels as he held his Bible clasped in front of him with both hands.
In front of the priest, however, was a tall, gorgeous man dressed perfectly in his tuxedo. Alex's eyes were also gazing down the aisle, a wide smile spread across his face. I had been struck by how handsome he was the very first time that we met, and I still couldn't get over that momentary breathlessness that fluttered in my chest every time I saw him.
This whole wedding felt awkward to me. Everything was going right, and it did nothing but remind me of my own wedding, just two years previously, when everything had gone wrong. My reception had been a disaster, Father Hemsley had caused a spectacle of his own, and my family had all but torn each other apart.
But that wasn't the worst part. Not by a long shot.
Once again, my eyes were pulled towards Alex, standing at attention at the front of the wedding. A rather ironic place for him to stand, I thought with a touch of dark humor. Two years ago, at my own wedding, Alex had also been standing at the front - as my husband-to-be. And now he was here in Susan's wedding.
Funny how things turn out.
Susan was now halfway up the aisle, her eyes fixed on the altar. She was headed straight for Alex, and I had to pull my eyes away. I had told myself, staring into the bathroom mirror, that I would keep all of my emotions in check, my feelings under control. I was the strong older sister, the one who remained steadfast in the face of hardship, unruffled by catastrophe, always able to pick up the pieces of my life and move on from a defeat. But now, in front of everyone, watching my sister advance towards the man I loved, I had to blink rapidly, trying and failing to keep a lid on my emotions.
Man, this was a messed-up state that I was in. Even I couldn't believe just how things had turned out. I knew that, for the wedding toasts after the ceremony, I would have to give a brief little summary, totaling up the love story in five minutes or less.
But really, the whole, interwoven, crazy, frustratingly hilarious tale began nearly three years ago, even before my own spectacular mess of a wedding. In fact, the whole protracted downward slide began, I was pretty sure, when Alex had decided that it was time to propose.
To me.
The Proposal
*
Slightly over two and a half years before my younger sister's wedding, things were very different. I was working full-time for a nonprofit, helping the organization plan fundraisers and other social events, and best of all, I was dating a man with whom I was irrevocably, irreversibly, head-over-heels in love.
After graduating from college, I had bounced around for a couple of years, and had ended up volunteering to spend a year working for Habitat for Humanity as part of the AmeriCorps program, agreeing to spend a year working long hours for next to no pay, all in the name of giving back. Or in my case, following the time-honored mantra that a paltry income is better than no job at all.
