Nick
I woke up the day of the wedding feeling horrible. I knew the game all too well by now. Heather would be about to tell me something I didn't want to hear and I'd do my damndest to get her away from the situation. It usually cooled her down.
Considering I hadn't gotten a phone call in the middle of the night, I assumed that my plan had once again worked.
But deep down I had to ask myself: did I really want it to work?
If I were to lay all the cards down on the table, I'd admit that Heather infuriated me. She was the type of girl who had book smarts but not street smarts. She couldn't make up her mind to save her life; she didn't really have a backbone. Did I really want someone like that for the mother of my children? The type of girl who could just go with me everywhere without a life of her own? Brian liked that kinda over-indulgent attention.
I loved the idea of 'welcome home' blow your mind out sex. I appreciated a woman who had her own goals in life.
I appreciated Lauren.
Heather hadn't even so much as looked at me when I dropped her off at her parent's house the night before. I had gone to the hotel, turned on a dirty movie, and spent my last night alone superimposing Lauren's face on the body of the hot chick on the 52" flat screen.
I rolled out of bed. After a quick shower, I hunkered down at the table and ate a whole box of cereal. Most people would have loved the view from my room, but all I saw (and smelt) was the manure-scented state of Kentucky. I couldn't imagine coming back for every holiday and dealing with Chris...
I knew what I had to do.
Now all I had to do was do it.
Twenty minutes later, I had the entire male half of the wedding party (sans Chris and Brian) ready to go to the chateau. D stared at me silently.
"Are we still going?" he asked. J looked up too, his fingers falling from his fly that he was moving up and down trying to prove that it did sound a little bit like 'Zippity-Doo-Da.'
"We're still going," I said firmly. What I had to say had to be said in person. Even I wasn't tacky enough to just make a phone call.
"But are we--" D continued, but I moved towards the door, cutting him off.
"Don't ask questions," I said.
"I've got this under control."
Heather
"I need to call Brian."
"Honey you're in the middle of getting your hair done. You're going to have to wait."
"I don't want to wait. This is important."
I saw mom's reflection in the mirror. "Heather, honey, what are you doing?"
My throat still felt singed. I winced as I swallowed. "What do you mean?"
"As a little girl you always knew what you wanted to do...even if it wasn't what I wanted you to do," she said softly. "So why did things get so complicated now? How did you fall apart?"
Those words coming from my mother felt like a slap and a hug at the same time. My fingers curled around the salon chair. I had still been half asleep (oversleeping, actually) when mom dragged me up and out. I had come alive after a cup of coffee that was more sugar than caffeine.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But if you--"
The little bell over the door of the salon twinkled merrily. I suspected my bridesmaids had arrived, but I couldn't turn to look. But mom could. She gasped.
"Good morning, Brian."
"Mornin' Marietta. I was wondering if I could talk to Heather for a minute."
Mom and I shared a look in the glass. Even the stylist joined in. Both of them took a step back.
"I gotta see if there's more gel in the back. Marietta, wanna come with me?"
"Sure Darlene. Lead the way."
Both women gave Brian one more hearty look before walking into the store room. Without the fear of being burned by a curling iron, I was free to move. I swiveled the chair around and took a deep breath.
"I'm glad you came," I said gently. "I can explain."
His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. For a second I wondered why he wasn't already at the chateau, but it didn't seem important. The bags under his eyes told me he hadn't slept.
"You already made your point clear," he said angrily. "What did Nick say to you this time to get you crawling back?"
The coffee in my stomach suddenly turned to acid. "He sprayed pepper spray in my mouth," I countered. "I couldn't speak. I--"
"Did your feet stop working? Do you know how long I spent out in that gazebo? Damnit Heather, I'm a fucking idiot when it comes to you. I can't get you out of my head and yet you keep running back to Nick. I never thought I would say this but--" his whole body seemed to swell in front of me. "you two deserve each other. I'm just not going to stick around to see it happen."
With that, Bri spun around. I scrambled out of the chair.
"Brian, no!"
Brian
Heather caught my arm. “Brian, please,” she begged.
I froze. I couldn’t speak. My stomach was so worked up I felt like if I opened my mouth vomit would come out – though I hadn’t eaten anything since the dinner the night before, and honestly I’d only picked at that. I was shaking I was so emotionally distraught. I’d sat up all night in the car for most of it because I couldn’t bring myself to drive home. I’d driven around half the damn state of Kentucky with a country music station blaring. I’d stumbled in extremely early that morning and fallen asleep on my mom’s couch instead of my own bed, even. Harold, my brother, had woken me up when he arrived to go to the wedding with my parents with the line aren’t you like IN the wedding dude? and I’d replied, I should be the fucking groom.
“Don’t leave,” Heather whispered. “I understand why you’re mad at me Brian, but what happened last night wasn’t my fault.”
I set my jaw.
She came up behind me, snaked her arms around my waist, and pressed her face into my back. I could feel her tears through my shirt, soaking into my shoulder blades. “Your heart is beating so fast,” she whispered. Heather’s hands had raised from my waist to my chest and her palm was stretched across my scar. I closed my eyes.
”What’s that?” Heather was five. I was ten. We were at the creek, I’d just taken off my shirt to go swimming with Chris when Heather pointed out the scar that slashed across my chest. At the time it was scarlet red and reflecting the sun like the hot dot stickers the school passed out at Halloween.
“That’s where they opened up Brian and stuck their hands in and swirled around,” Chris answered, laughing.
Heather’s eyes had widened.
“My heart had to get fixed,” I answered quietly. I stared down at my chest, my cheeks burning. The scar had always embarrassed me. It was the worst part of being a heart disease survivor, the scar that never faded, like an ugly bulletin board proclaiming ‘I’m damaged’.
“Why was your heart broken?” Heather asked, gawking at the scar.
“It was born broken,” I answered.
“And it’ll always be broken,” I whispered now. I shrugged Heather off of me… and walked out the door, closing it behind me.
In the hallway, I bumped into Nick. Half dressed in his tuxedo, he looked like a penguin that had been through the propeller of a boat. His hair was disheveled, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned and his eyes wild with determination. We collided halfway down the long central hallway of the chateau. He caught my shoulders before I ricocheted off of him to the floor, and started to apologize until he realized who I was. He stopped mid-word and gnawed his lower lip, staring down at the carpet.
“You win,” I said quietly, “Congratulations.”
I pushed by him, heading for the door.
“If you call it winning,” he said.
I shoved out the front door of the chateau, took the steps down the porch two at a time, and whipped around and started throwing up into the flower bed. My grip on the porch rail shook and I felt like I could barely keep myself up. My knees weakened and I dropped to them in the dewy, Kentucky grass.
“Brian?” I looked up, wiping my mouth, and saw Chris standing in front of me on the porch. He climbed down the steps and helped me to my feet. “What the hell is going on?” Chris asked, “Are you okay? Dude, why aren’t you dressed?”
“I quit,” I whispered, “Nick wins, I give up. I-“
Chris’ eyes were sad.
“You told her,” he said quietly.
“And I waited by the gazebo for hours last night, and she chose Nick,” I completed the story.
Chris sighed.
“C’mon,” he said, “I’ve got brandy in my dressing room.”
