I SWIRLED MY red wine in a glass, listening to the happy chatter of the guests at my best friend, Amelia’s, wedding. The newlyweds left about thirty minutes ago. The entire bridal party had been asked to stay behind so the guests didn’t feel as if the party ended.
It had been a simple but elegant wedding. At the center of each table were tall silver vases filled with pale-pink cascading flowers. Picking up one of the fallen petals, I caressed it with my fingers, feeling its softness.
I secretly wished to have something like this one day, but more intimate. Today, I had been the maid of honor. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. That was me. Oh, I was in a relationship, a long-term relationship actually, but there were no wedding bells in my future.
My boyfriend of five years, Harris Huntington the Third, didn’t believe in marriage—at least that seemed to be his outlook now. When Harris and I first met, I had envisioned a different future for us, but as the days came and went—I knew that future was but a dream. I loved him, I really thought I did, and that’s why it was hard to walk away.
I was a hopeless romantic. I hoped Harris would walk through the door of our Manhattan condo and realize there was more to life than making money. With the death of his father, Harris had inherited a business empire that had changed him—changed us. It wasn’t a quick change, but a slow erosion that I began to notice over the last year. Part of me was scared to move on from Harris. That’s why I held on to hope. Maybe, just maybe, Harris and I would be able to find our way back to each other.
Forever the eternal optimist, I hoped Harris would come back to me.
While the red liquid continued to swirl around the glass, I watched the residue slowly come down the side wall.
I was alone at this event since Harris had a business dinner that he deemed more important. I sat in a corner waiting to make my escape at the first acceptable moment.
A slow song came on and bodies moved closer together under the twinkle lights of the dance floor. I sighed to myself. Seeing all this made my heart hurt knowing I was missing out on this type of love. I wanted to feel those butterflies and undeniable attraction to someone.
The lights of the dance floor gave off a romantic feel as the glow illuminated the embracing couples. Bodies swayed back and forth. I imagined Harris and me out there, holding each other like we used to. Those days seemed but a distant memory. The wedding coordinator gave me the sign that I could leave, so I gathered my things and made my way toward the parking lot. My purple chiffon dress didn’t provide much warmth against the occasional wind gust thanks to the unseasonably cool fall evening.
To the right, I heard some giggling and quickly glanced over. There was a couple all over each other as they fumbled for the handle on the back right passenger door of a car. It was hard to pull my eyes away seeing the need those two had for each other. Hell, when is the last time I had an orgasm? The truth was, it had been longer than I wanted to admit. As of late, Harris was too time constrained to give my body the attention it needed. So, I faked that blissful euphoria I loved. Before all of the money had come into our lives that couple scrambling to get in the car would have been Harris and me as the need to have each other consumed any rational thought.
Driving out of the parking lot, I looked at the time and saw it was approaching nine PM. My Aunt Leelyn, who raised me, would be going to bed any minute. There wasn’t a night that we didn’t say goodnight to each other, even if it was simply a two-minute phone call. Connecting the Bluetooth, I dialed her number.
“Hello,” she answered. I loved Aunt Leelyn’s sweet voice.
“Hey, there. I’m leaving the wedding, but wanted to call and wish you goodnight.”
A yawn came through on the other end as my sixty-two-year-old aunt fought the sandman. “Night, sweetheart. Did it go okay without Harris?”
“It did. I missed him.” The phone was silent on the other end. I knew Aunt Leelyn didn’t approve of the new version of Harris, but she didn’t get involved. I continued on, “Tomorrow night I have a dinner with him. I’ll call you earlier in the evening before we leave.”
“Sounds good, Ashlin. Night, love you.”
“Love you too, Aunt Leelyn.”
We hung up the phone as I continued to make my way back into the city. Aunt Leelyn had always been there for me. My mother and father had been magicians. During one of the water acts that consisted of my mother being shackled and tied underwater while my father hung upside down in a straightjacket, my mother had died.
The straightjacket had been put on wrong and the fail-safe was broken. My mom drowned looking up at my dad. They had been each other’s w
orld.
Two months after Mom’s death, Dad killed himself with a bullet to the head. I still remember sitting at the window, watching the firework show at our neighbor’s house on the Fourth of July. Amidst all the noise, a loud bang echoed through the house, which wasn’t a firework.
Bang.
The memory of the sound still brought an involuntary shudder to my body. A tear slipped down my cheek as the memory momentarily escaped the vault I tried to keep it in.
Running down the hall, I found my dad lying on the floor—lifeless. Blood pooled around him as the firecrackers continued to go off across the street.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
To this day, I hate fireworks.