Original Words
Every month I will be uploading a piece of a story that I have written. I want to get my stories out there for people to read. I submit regularly to publications and am currently looking for literary representation. Please enjoy!
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The Best Man
...Turning the invitation in her hands, she pondered whether or not she would go. She told herself that she didn’t need their approval anymore, that she knew who she was without the benefit of their love. But what better way than to show them how much I’ve done at eighteen, she thought. Before giving it another thought, she checked yes on the RSVP and mailed it that day.
But standing there on the actual day of the wedding, Emily was having second thoughts. She had borrowed the car from a friend at school and while it wasn’t a bad car, it was nothing compared to the shiny new Buicks and Cadillacs that enclosed her car. Buffed to a high shine, these cars gleamed diamonds in the bright June sun. And while she had loved the dress that she had borrowed from Sally, her best friend and study buddy, standing in front of the church, she felt naked, unable to hide her awkwardness as people looked at her. She looked down at her black and white polka dotted halter dress, the ruffles adding a little bounce to the fabric with each step. She had thought that the dress made her look classy, pulling off the eastern snob look with ease. But now, all she worried about was if it showed off too much skin, making her look like a slut. She knew that that was how they saw her mother. She didn’t want them to see her that way.
Even her shoes, the shoes that she had paid for with two weeks worth of pay from her part-time job as an waiter, seemed wrong, her ankles rocking, unable to support her weight. Oh well, she thought, pushing back her golden curls off her shoulders as she straightened up, I’m here now. She walked to the monolithic church, staring at the figures of Jesus Christ adorned on both sides of the front double doors. The doors were opened for the group milling around, and the people eagerly went in to get out of the already humid air. Emily paused for a moment, her fear rising again. The doors gaped open beckoning her, but all she felt was doom, entering the gates of hell.
* * * * *
The wedding itself was surprisingly short, especially for a church wedding. Whitney was beautiful as she had always been, her once straight blond hair now made to create a crown of curls atop her head. She had walked down the aisle, looking from side to side at her guests, her blue eyes twinkling with the magic of her day. She even winked at Emily, a sign that she was happy she was there, Emily hoped. Emily sat near the back away from the family members in the first couple of pews. She just wasn’t quite ready to face them just yet.
The wedding was classy, the personification of the Van Wyck name. While Emily couldn’t remember who the groom’s last name was, she knew that he had to have been someone of note. But the wedding itself was a Van Wyck occasion in every sense. The church was massive, with high ceilings and an echo, made distinct by the steps of the guests to their seats. Ornate wood beams matched the golden brown of the wooden pews, filling the giant place. Emily ran her hand absentmindedly over the back of her pew, feeling the smoothness of the wood with the polish that had been applied for the special occasion. The church sparkled with the June sun shining through the paned glass windows, a kaleidoscope of colors shimmering on everything it touched. The calla lilies were white, but the windows created flashes of reds, blues, and green across the flowers. The wreaths were dark green and full. The ribbons and streamers were also white but reflected the sun’s effects. The church was bright and vibrant and Emily couldn’t help but shed a tear. This is beautiful, she thought to herself as the tear snaked its way through her made up cheek. Her makeup was ruined but she didn’t care. It’s just how I’d like my wedding.
Once up on the altar, Whitney and the groom, announced Rupert Billings, promised to love one another and shared their vows. Emily didn’t hear the vows though. She was caught up in the ecstasy of love and wedded bliss. She looked around at the confection of colors before her eyes landed on the man next to the groom.
He was staring straight at her. He caught her off guard, taking her breathe away with the ferocity of his gazing. She quickly looked down at her balled up tissue clenched in between her hands. She used the tissue, wiping away the evidence of her tears before glancing up again. He was still staring but this time Emily felt able to withstand his eyes.
As she studied, she realized that he was not bad looking. He was older than her, probably late twenties, early thirties. He wore his designer tux with confidence, no paunch needing to be covered or awkwardness to conceal. His hair was styled short, his dark brown slightly spiked with gel. He was clean shaven, not necessarily Emily’s type, but she found that it worked for him. While not tall, he seemed to command her attention, even from her spot near the back of the church. And all the while, he stared.
Emily didn’t feel revulsion from his stare, but mysteriousness. This man knew nothing about her, her past, her history with this family. Yet he was drawn to her. She found the thought of this man intoxicating. She was so entranced by him that she missed the kissing of the bride and groom. She only came out of her reverie when the applause for the happy couple broke out. As they came down the aisle, Emily stood, clapping. The best man and his assigned bridesmaid soon followed. He glanced at her yet again before stepping outside and thus, out of her sight.
As guests began to file out, Emily felt the nudge of someone behind her. She turned and was met with her father’s eyes. She smiled automatically, but with no true enthusiasm. “Hello,” she stated evenly, looking at his worn face.
Life had not been kind to her father. All of his drinking and gambling and smoking seemed to etch the worry lines and wrinkles upon his leathery face. While he still had his curly mop of dark hair, the hair itself looked thin, stringy. What was once lustrous in her child eyes, now looked dull, streaked with more greys and whites than soft brown. He half smiled at her, never showing her his teeth. She wondered if he had lost some and was ashamed. “Hello Emily.” Never one to use nicknames or pet names, her father had always just referred to her as Emily.
An uncomfortable air of tension developed between them as they stood there looking at one another. Emily hadn’t seen her father since her graduation day, when she had given her valedictorian speech. While her mother and relatives had hugged her and smiled through their tears of happiness, her father simply stood back, waiting his turn. When he finally had his chance he said, “It was a nice speech,” his hands clasped behind his back.
Emily nodded. “Thank you. I worked really hard on it,” she said, a sense of pride building in her. It was her accomplishment, and hers alone.
“Did you really mean what you said, about chasing your dreams and going after what you truly want?” he asked. He was scanning the audience, as if looking for someone.
“Absolutely. I cannot wait to go to college and achieve everything that I want.” Emily tried to follow his eyes to see who he was looking for.
Before she had the chance, her father swung his eyes back to hers, and bore through them. “I give it a year, and you’ll be back here,” he stated before strolling over to one of his golfing pals.
Emily stood, stupefied, by what had just occurred. The crowds milled around her, families and well wishers of her fellow graduates. But she didn’t see any of them, didn’t hear their words of congratulations to their loved ones. She only heard her father, saw his look of glee at telling her that she would be nothing.
And now having him in front of her, all Emily could think about was his last words. She tossed her hair defiantly and glared at him as if he were below her. “How are things?” she asked, looking around as if looking for someone. But already she was looking to escape. She didn’t know how to be this person, someone who could treat someone so horribly.
“Everything’s fine. And you?” he asked, looking around himself. He pulled off his spectacles and began cleaning them with a cloth from his pants pocket before placing them back on the bridge of his beak-like nose.
Then why even come over and talk to me, she thought to herself as she caught herself rolling her eyes. Some things never change. “Everything’s great for me. Still at Northwestern, still planning to go into medicine,” she said, fighting back the urge to just walk away. Their encounter was brutal for her, which is why she chose to sit away from the family to begin with.
He smiled wanly. “Sure you will,” he said, patronizing. “We’ll all be very pleased to see you accomplish this…choice.”
Emily stood speechless. He had done it again. Like so many times before, he had let her know, in his own way, that she still couldn’t succeed in his eyes. She was still her mother’s daughter and therefore, would amount to nothing. Before she had a chance to recover and snap something back at him, he asked, “So are you staying for the reception?”
Emily gritted her teeth. “Yes,” she said simply. She wanted this conversation to be over.
“So then you’ll be a part of the wedding pictures then?”
“What do you mean? The pictures they take at the reception?”
He shook his head, chuckling at her supposed faux pas. “No, Emily. The pictures they take outside. The wedding pictures. Whitney would like one of the whole family. To mark the occasion of the whole family together, on her happy day.”
Emily was taken aback slightly but tried to not show it in her face. She had been unaware that she would be needed in one of the actual wedding pictures. “Of course. I mean, after all, I am part of the family,” she stated, looking her father right in his watery eyes.
He looked right back. “Sure. Sure you are,” he said, his wan smile making a brief appearance at her remark. Suddenly he saw someone over her shoulder. “Excuse me, there’s someone I need to speak to over there,” he said. He patted her shoulder, saying “Enjoy the rest of your night,” before walking away.
Emily stood, stupefied yet again. While a year of independence had given her a wealth of confidence, her father had taken it all away in their short exchange. She remembered how she felt at her graduation and realized he had made her feel the same once again. Why do I let him affect me? Why do I care? She shook her head, as if to disperse his nasty words in her mind, and walked out of the pew and out the front double doors of the church.
Once outside, the sun blinded Emily, making her unsure as to where she was going. Shading her eyes with her hands, the glowing orbs that obscured her vision slowly began to grow smaller, until they finally faded from her sight. She looked around to see other guests milling about. They were waiting for something, what she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been to too many weddings and only when she was a child, so wedding protocols were unfamiliar to her.
She stood off to the side, waiting to see what would happen. No one else came up to her and she was able to breath. She tried to calm the nerves that her father had erupted in her, the fears and doubts that she had about herself on a daily basis. While confident in her academic career at Northwestern, she often had doubts about her abilities. She knew that it came from this side of her lineage, but try as she could, she could not make that tiny voice inside her go away. Except today the voice was loud, silencing anything else she may feel about herself. She needed time to process, to silence the voice, but before she could, the newly married couple rounded the corner of the church. Emily stood straighter, trying to show no fear.
Whitney smiled at the crowd that surrounded her and her new husband. “Hi guys. Thank you so much for coming and for waiting to see us off. We’re still going to be awhile with our wedding pictures, so why don’t you go ahead without us? Enjoy the party and we’ll be there as soon as possible!” she gushed, her pearly teeth gleaming in the sun, pinkness filling her cheeks.
The crowd erupted in applause, with Emily following a few seconds after. Then the crowd began to move towards their cars, and the newly minted Buicks and Cadillacs slowly drove off the pebbled path and onto the main drag into town.
Emily stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Already her heels were hurting her, digging into the soft pads of her feet, scrunching up her toes. She wanted to take them off, but knew that now was not the time. She needed to find out what she was supposed to do, if the picture she was supposed to be in was to be taken here at the church or at the reception itself.
Finally, she began to walk towards Whitney herself, as Emily figured that if anyone knew when this picture would be taking place, it would be Whitney. “Hey Whitney. Congratulations,” Emily said when she was close enough to her.
Whitney turned and smiled her big smile, teeth even bigger up close. “Emily! I’m so glad you could make it! You will be coming to the reception, yes?” Whitney chattered, clearly excited.
“Yes, I’m coming to the reception,” Emily smiled at the pure exuberance of Whitney. It was nice to see her like this, so open and happy. “But I had a question about the pictures. Father said that there was going to be one with the whole family, but I was just wondering if that would be here or at the reception?” Emily asked.
Whitney’s smile dimmed slightly, a cloud rolling over her face. “Oh,” she said, turning to her mother, Emily’s aunt with the plumpness of Mrs. Doubtfire, but with none of the joy in her face.
Aunt Millie had never been a fan of Emily’s mother. They had been friends in high school but soured when she began to date her older brother, Emily’s father. She was one of the first to call her old friend a gold digger and often looked at Emily as something she could just wish away. She had the same expression on her face now as she came closer to Emily and Whitney. “We actually thought that it would be a good idea for you to sit this one out,” Aunt Millie stated slowly, placing her hand on Whitney’s forearm.
Color drained as Emily began to pale. “Why?” she asked softly, looking between the two women in front of her.
The two looked at one another, similar in both looks and actions. Whitney nodded slightly at her mother, who patted her daughter’s arm in reassurance and turned back to Emily. “We just feel that it should be immediate family only,” Aunt Millie stated, more firmly this time.
As this conversation was occurring, the rest of the family began to slowly move behind Whitney and Aunt Millie. The groom and his family stood off to the side, unsure as to what was going on and what they should do.
Emily looked at her father’s side of the family staring at her and felt very alone. “But if my father is in the picture, then why can’t I?” she asked still in a soft tone. Inside her head, a voice was screaming at her, begging her to shut up and let it go already.
Grandmother stepped forward. She was smaller than Emily had remembered, with her stooped back and cane for support. But her eyes shone through the web of wrinkles and excess flesh on her face and they showed determination. “He’s immediate family. You’re not,” she stated punctuating her last sentence for emphasis.
Emily felt as though she had been slapped. This little woman, who she had loved as her grandmother, had reduced her to nothing in their eyes. Not letting them see the tears in her eyes, Emily looked down, looking at the blades of green grass whipping themselves at her fancy heels. Even they seemed to not want her there anymore. “Okay,” she whispered before backing up and turning to walk to her car.
With each step, the family behind her began to talk, to whisper amongst themselves, probably about Emily. The family had returned to normal, with Whitney being the belle of the ball and ready to take more pictures.
Emily trudged to her borrowed car, hating that it wasn’t a new Buick. She unlocked the door and fell into the driver’s seat, leaving the car door opened. She gasped for breath as the tears rolled down her eyes, expertly applied mascara coloring her tears as they streaked down her cheeks. Why did I come? she asked herself. They don’t want me. And why do I care? She pounded her palms on the steering wheel, cursing aloud at her weakness in front of her family. They always did this, and she always let them. After a few minutes of jagged sobbing and cursing, Emily was finally able to catch her breath and slow her tears to a minimum. She contemplated her next move.
A part of her wanted to just leave. Maybe she could go see her mother. Emily’s mom had not been invited to the wedding, of course, so Emily didn’t tell her that she was going, so as to not cause any friction between the two of them. Emily knew her mother loved her, but she also knew that a part of her was still mad at the Van Wyck in Emily. She would never talk to her mother about the Van Wycks, or what they were doing because she knew that it would only upset her mother. So a part of her wanted to see her mother, to see the look of surprise when Emily stated that she was there for a weekend visit.
But another part of her, possibly the Van Wyck part of her, still wanted to go to the wedding reception. She wanted to prove to them that they didn’t affect her, that she was fine without their approval. Hell, she was excelling despite their comments on her and her abilities to succeed. Before thinking any further, Emily started the car, put it into drive and drove the hour to the reception by the lake.
* * * * *
The lake was surrounded by log cabins, one of which was owned by the Van Wycks. It was a very exclusive community of summer homes for the more wealthier people in central Illinois. It was the place to go and be recognized for your monied status. So of course, Whitney’s reception had to be held in the hall nestled in between the cabins. It was a meeting place in the summer months, a place to have dances, play games, even have activities for the younger children. But this night, it was only for the ones who were invited to Whitney’s reception.
By the time Emily swung her car into the paved parking lot and parked near the end of the lot, she had calmed down. She knew that she just needed to be in a room with these people and survive the night. Filled with resolve, she turned off the engine, put her high heels back on, and stepped out into the fading sunlight. It was nearing dusk, with the crickets and fireflies singing their serenades over the cooling air. The lake was always a favorite of Emily’s, getting to come on the weekends when her grandparents were out there. Looking at the lake for a moment, she remembered when they would swim in its darkness, not minding being dirty when they got out. Emily smiled, and promised to come out to the lake just once this evening before she turned away and started to walk towards the hall.
The hall was only half full, half of the wedding guests still arriving when Emily entered through the open doors. While the church was adorned with the brilliant colors of the sun through the stained glass windows, the hall instead seemed muted. The colors were still white, with white tablecloths covering the rounded, massive tables and wicker chairs to match. The flowers were white calla lilies, both in the centerpieces on the tables and with the white streamers tacked around the walls and ceiling. Even the stage for band was white. The only other colors that were seen were the black vests of the waiters, and the pastels worn by the wedding guests. To Emily, it seemed sterile, not vibrant and full of what love should be.
She paused at the door before heading to the nearest table. Of course the tables had place cards for where the guests were to sit and Emily surveyed each card, looking for her name. She finally found it near the back, at the last table. It’s nice to see how much the family wanted me here, she thought wryly, noting that she was not with her other family members, but with strangers. But she was okay with this. She had had enough of her family.
Emily settled into her seat, waiting for the night to begin. She watched as the band began to tune their musical instruments. She had always wanted to learn how to play the guitar and was always interested in what others did when they played, how they prepared. She was completely unaware when someone sat down in the seat next to her. It was only when he spoke that she was brought out of her reverie.
“So, how did you enjoy the wedding?” the voice asked.
Emily turned to the direction of the voice and found herself staring into the eyes of the best man. His eyes were brown, a soft chocolate with deep pools with blackness at their centers. His eyes seemed to twinkle at her surprise, a slow smile sliding onto his face.
“I’m sorry. Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice.
Emily blushed slightly before tossing back her curls. “No, I wasn’t expecting anyone. I also wasn’t expecting you,” she said archly, her eyebrows hitching up at his flirting. Emily wasn’t the best flirter but she knew she was the best at banter, especially with frat brothers who thought they had a chance with her.
He laughed, making a loud bellowing that caused others to look at them. Emily was embarrassed but also secretly happy. These people would finally see who she was, and not just some awkward wallflower.
“I didn’t realize I was being funny. Or have you already started drinking?” she asked him, sniffing in his direction.
He leaned forward. “No I haven’t been drinking. But if you don’t believe me, sniff away,” he said, his smile growing bigger and showing more teeth.
Emily hesitated for a moment. It felt like he was daring her, testing her to see how far she would go. Then she leaned in, taking in his breath and smelling him. He smelled slightly of liquor, but it was almost absorbed by his AXE body spray and his natural odor. Even his breath smelled delicious, like candied apples and butterscotches. “Hmmm,” she murmured, leaning back in her seat. “You smell like you’ve had some candy.”
He chuckled, this time his chortle quieter, throatier. “You caught me,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “They won’t serve the dinner until everyone arrives and I’m starving, so I snuck a couple of snacks.”
Emily smiled, crossing her legs as she got comfortable in her chair. She noticed how his eyes looked down for a moment at her legs before swinging them back to her eyes.
“So how are you a part of this wedding? I mean, are you related to someone, friends with someone?” he asked, crossing his arms onto the table.
Emily looked at him, contemplating. She was hesitant on what to say, not wanting to get into her family traumas with a complete stranger. Finally she said, “I’m related to the bride. You?”
“I’m best friends with the groom, Rupert. Known him since freshman year in college when we both pledged the same fraternity. God, that must have been…15 years?” he said, looking up at the ceiling when talking of the years.
“Wow, so you’re like really old.”
He laughed again. “Yes, I’m really old,” he said, shaking his head. “So how about you?”
“You want to know how old I am?” Emily asked, laughter just bubbling underneath. “You sure you don’t just want to card me right now?”
His face turned mock serious. “Yes ma’am, I’m going to need to see some id,” he stated, nodding his head. “Come on. Out with it.”
Emily erupted in laughter. “You’re mad!” she giggled, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around her ribs to contain her amusement. “I don’t even know you, so why would I ever show you my id?”
“You’re absolutely right. You don’t know me. So let’s fix that-my name is Andrew,” he said, holding his hand out to hers.
She unclasped her hand from her rib, her giggles finally subsiding, and shook his hand. “Emily.”
Their hands stayed together for a few moments, his olive-toned hand enveloping her pale hand. Then he smiled again. “Now how about that id?” he said, setting off another peal of laughter from Emily.
* * * * *
The two of them conversed for a while as the other wedding guests and family members began to arrive. Then Whitney and Rupert arrived and were brought in as the band’s singer announced them as Mr. and Mrs. Billings. By this time, Andrew had to leave Emily and take his place at the front table. Throughout the night’s rituals, the dinner, the toasts, Andrew would occasionally meet Emily’s eyes, smiling and winking.
Emily was beyond flattered. Sure, boys had flirted with her before, but never someone like Andrew. He was a man, with an ease and confidence that she never saw in the boys that she dated. And he was a part of the sect that she was excluded from. He was allowed to be around her family and not be intimidated. She had images of falling in love with this man, maybe even marrying him and having her reception here. Her wedding reception would have all the love that seemed to be absent in this sterile environment. And she would finally be accepted by her family, because how else could this man love her if she wasn’t deserving of that love?
He took so much notice of her that Whitney noticed. After the dinner and first dance, Whitney cornered Emily outside of the bathroom, in the hallway outside the main room.
“Hey,” Whitney said, grabbing Emily’s arm. “What’s going on?”
Emily pulled her arm out of Whitney’s grasp. “What are you talking about?” she snapped, still sore from the encounter outside the church.
Whitney stepped closer, peering into Emily’s eyes. “You know what I’m talking about,” she said. “What is going on between you and the best man?”
Emily looked away. “Why is it any of your business?” she asked, folding her arms into herself.
“It’s not,” Whitney said, taking a pause. “But you should know that he’s married.”
Emily looked back at Whitney in disbelief. “You’re lying.”
Whitney simply shook her head. “I’m not.”
“Then where is she? What, you didn’t invite her?” Emily shot back.
Whitney’s eyes widened. “Why are you acting like this? I’m trying to warn you. She’s at home with their kid. He’s only three and their regular sitter cancelled on them,” she said. “Ask him. Ask him about his family.”
“I will,” Emily stated, but already her resolve was wavering. “But even if I do, there’s still nothing going on.”
Whitney stood there, staring at Emily, to the point that Emily began to get antsy under her scrutiny. Then she sighed and said, “I just thought I should warn you,” and then turned on her heel and walked away.
Emily stood in the hallway, flummoxed. She didn’t know what to think, her daydreams of a happily ever after fading away. Who was this guy? And why didn’t he just tell her the truth?
Needing some air, Emily turned to go outside, avoiding the main room’s entrance and going out the side door. It had turned dark while she was inside, the insects creating their mating songs in the darkness, searching for one another in blackness. She followed their serenades to the lake, stopping at the water’s edge. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to stay warm. While the air was still warm, the breeze off of the lake sent shivers through her blood, causing goose bumps to cover her flesh. She stilled her body and her mind, wanting to do nothing, think nothing, only look to the lake.
“What are you doing out here?” a voice asked, breaking her out of her meditative state. She turned to see Andrew standing there a few feet away, grinning at her.
Emily stiffened slightly. She wanted to be alone, to turn off her mind and not think about the consequences of doing anything/nothing. But here was one of those anythings, looking so lovely in the light of the full moon. She was still undecided when he spoke again.
“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, replacing his grin with a look of concern. He stepped closer to her, bringing his natural heat to her, enveloping her.
She warmed to his heat and inhaled his delicious scent. She looked down, smiled to herself, and shook her head. “Everything’s fine,” she said, looking up into his eyes. In the darkness they looked like pools of water, mirroring the lake. “It wouldn’t be a wedding without some family drama.”
He put his soft hands on her arms and began to move them up and down, creating a fraction of warmth against her goose bumps. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, leaning his head towards hers.
Emily could feel him pulling her closer. She hesitated, thinking about what Whitney had told her. Then she said, “Whitney told me you’re married.” She peered into his eyes to see his reaction.
His hands froze for a moment on her arms before continuing their up and down movement. But his eyes showed genuine shock. They widened as he looked down at her. “Why would she say that?”
Relief flooded through Emily. “Well, we’re not very close,” she began.
“No, that’s crap,” he interrupted. “She’s knows I’m not married. So why would she do that to you, to me?”
Emily felt the need to reassure him, to calm him down. “No, you see, this is my family. They like to cause trouble, to make me feel bad,” she explained, putting her own hands on his shoulders unconsciously.
“Is that what was happening at the church?”
Emily’s hands flew to her face, covering it. “Oh my God, you saw that?” she sputtered. “That was so embarrassing.”
“Hey,” he said, pulling her hands from her face and holding them. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. They should. That was disgraceful how they treated you.”
Emily looked down, feeling the blush move across her face. At that moment she felt loved, protected by someone who understood and was as disgusted by her family as she was. “They’ve done it to me all my life.”
Andrew pulled her into his arms, pressing her small body into his muscular frame. He made her feel safe and she leaned in, trying to mold her skin into his, to become one. He held her for a while and she breathed in his intoxicating smell, enamored of this man and the way he made her feel.
“Hey,” he said, pulling away slightly. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Emily hesitated for a second. She knew where this was going and she knew what her family would say. But she didn’t care; she knew the truth about Andrew and, more importantly, she knew the truth about her family. They were nasty, and they didn’t care about her. But for once, she didn’t care what they thought. She looked up at his olive skinned face, glistening under the shine of the moon, his eyes, both dark pools of understanding, and decided. “Let’s go,” she answered.
* * * * *
The two of them scurried away to one of the cabins away from the reception hall. Andrew jiggled his pockets, pulling out a key and inserting it into the door’s lock. With a click, the heavy door swung open, disappearing into the darkness of the cabin. Andrew released Emily’s hand and stumbled around until he turned on a lamp by the side of the futon.
Emily tried to look around the cabin, to familiarize herself with her surroundings, but never had the chance. Andrew came up to her and put his moist lips over hers, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth, almost causing her to gag. As he kissed her, his hands that at the lake had been so soft, now seemed to be everywhere, in her hair, on her chest, cupping her ass. As he searched her body roughly, scouring every hill and valley through her dress, Andrew began to push her towards a darkened room, closing the front door of the cabin with his foot.
Once in the room, Emily felt blind, unable to see anything in the pitch blackness. Then she was falling, Andrew having pushed her onto the bed. No words were spoken between them as Emily began to feel that it was all somehow so wrong. He shoved up her dress, her pretty polka dot dress, up over her waist, breasts, and head. Emily could hear the fabric rip as he wrenched it from her head. Poor Sally, she thought. She’ll be so angry if her dress is ruined. But it didn’t even slow down Andrew.
He brushed his lips roughly over her neck, bruising her tender skin as his hands grasped at her bra, trying to undo it, before also shoving it up and over her head. Then he licked his way down her body, his tongue snaking his way to her panties. Sucking them slightly, his hands then ripped them off her body, leaving thin lines where her underwear once was. Only her heels stayed on, dangling off her feet, but refusing to fall. Then his hands were inside her.
But something was wrong. Emily wasn’t turned on by his groping. She lay there, still, wanting for some of Andrew’s charm to reappear, to make her feel safe and sexy at the same time. But it didn’t happen. His groping seemed to ignore her and her lack of movement and he just did what he wanted with her. She wondered where the Andrew she had met was and why was she still there with this man. But she didn’t leave.
Quickly Andrew shedded his clothes, throwing them every which way in the blackened room. Then he hoisted himself on top of her, knocking the wind out of her and he crushed her with his hardened mass of a chest. What was once soft and warm to her now just felt like lead, cold and metallic. Bringing her legs up with his beefy arms, he slammed into her, forcing himself inside.
Pain erupted in Emily, and she cried out. She had been with two other guys, but they had been unsure about their sexual prowess and therefore, were intent to please her. But Andrew was confident and sure of himself. Emily turned her head as her tears began to fall from her eyes and onto the home sewn quilt on top of the bed. Andrew saw none of this in the death colored room, darkened by a cloud over the full moon and wanton desire. He plunged into her, over and over again, his groans obscuring her whimpering. His thrusts became harder and faster before spasming a final jerk and falling to the side of her.
Emily covered herself with her arms, feeling like she had rug rash over the entirety of her body. Her flesh was raw, exposed and stinging. Emily hugged herself, turning over to curl into the fetal position. She began to doze when she felt his heat against her back. He whispered round two and seized her arms from behind, pulling them back as he began to take her once again.
He continued his attack on Emily throughout the night, bruising her body and ripping away every last bit of innocence she had left. Somewhere around 3am, Andrew stopped, falling asleep beside Emily.
She didn’t sleep, just listened to his breath as it went in and out of his mouth slower and slower. She was afraid to move, afraid to wake the sleeping beast beside her. By the beginning of dawn’s first light, when she could finally see the room that they were in, she finally began to move, hedging her way slowly to the edge of the bed. She slid off the bed and onto the floor, trying to move as quietly as possible. She pulled off her heels, the only things to stay on her naked body the entire night. She searched the floor for her clothes, intent on covering herself.
Once she gathered everything, she tiptoed out to find the bathroom. She froze at the door frame when his breathing stopped, then sighed as he shifted his position. She looked at him lying on his back just as the light began to filter in, over his body. He looked ugly to her now, his hair greasy from gel, his skin looking dirty, not exotic. She tiptoed closer to look at his face; the face she thought was so lovely yesterday afternoon. But instead of his grin, she saw the lines beginning to form on his face, pockmarked, and the bags under his eyes that could carry quarters. His naked body was not glorious, but sinewy, fighting the signs of aging and losing slowly. She avoided looking at his penis, the weapon he used to assault her. She never wanted to see him again.
Emily left the room without another glance and tiptoed into a bathroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror and was shocked by what she saw. She had bruising along her body, around her wrists and ankles where he held her. Her thighs looked battered, pink and black intensifying as they went up and in. Her back had welts from the coarse quilt on the bed and her neck and breasts were scratched from the bristles of his 5 o’clock shadow. There were also various teeth marks around her breasts.
Emily closed her eyes and willed the need to pass out away. She wanted to go, not pass out. Once she felt sane again, Emily bent down to get dressed. The dress was okay, with just a slight rip on the side, something Emily could fix without Sally ever finding out. Her underwear was unwearable however, having been ripped at the seams. She balled them up and shoved them into her purse. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub to put on her high heels. But she stopped, looking at them. After a minute Emily stood up, heels in hands and found her way to the front room.
Emily looked around the room that she had not had a chance to look at before Andrew’s attack. It was a simple room, with a futon opposite a fireplace and a mantle with pictures. She stepped closer to look at the pictures, then froze. In the three pictures on the mantle, two of them were Andrew with a beautiful brunette woman, around late twenties. In one, he was behind her with his arms wrapped around her. In another, they were staring into each other’s eyes, her with a veil and him in a tux. In the third frame was the two of them, playing with a toddler. A boy. Emily stared into the eyes of the Andrew in the pictures and felt nothing.
Emily turned silently to the front door and opened it. She gazed out into the pink mist of the beginnings of sunrise and the moisture from the lake. She saw it and still didn’t see it. She thought nothing. Her mind was empty, her blood numb. She walked out of the cabin barefoot, leaving the front door open, and walked into the mist, letting it envelop her as she disappeared from sight.
...Turning the invitation in her hands, she pondered whether or not she would go. She told herself that she didn’t need their approval anymore, that she knew who she was without the benefit of their love. But what better way than to show them how much I’ve done at eighteen, she thought. Before giving it another thought, she checked yes on the RSVP and mailed it that day.
But standing there on the actual day of the wedding, Emily was having second thoughts. She had borrowed the car from a friend at school and while it wasn’t a bad car, it was nothing compared to the shiny new Buicks and Cadillacs that enclosed her car. Buffed to a high shine, these cars gleamed diamonds in the bright June sun. And while she had loved the dress that she had borrowed from Sally, her best friend and study buddy, standing in front of the church, she felt naked, unable to hide her awkwardness as people looked at her. She looked down at her black and white polka dotted halter dress, the ruffles adding a little bounce to the fabric with each step. She had thought that the dress made her look classy, pulling off the eastern snob look with ease. But now, all she worried about was if it showed off too much skin, making her look like a slut. She knew that that was how they saw her mother. She didn’t want them to see her that way.
Even her shoes, the shoes that she had paid for with two weeks worth of pay from her part-time job as an waiter, seemed wrong, her ankles rocking, unable to support her weight. Oh well, she thought, pushing back her golden curls off her shoulders as she straightened up, I’m here now. She walked to the monolithic church, staring at the figures of Jesus Christ adorned on both sides of the front double doors. The doors were opened for the group milling around, and the people eagerly went in to get out of the already humid air. Emily paused for a moment, her fear rising again. The doors gaped open beckoning her, but all she felt was doom, entering the gates of hell.
* * * * *
The wedding itself was surprisingly short, especially for a church wedding. Whitney was beautiful as she had always been, her once straight blond hair now made to create a crown of curls atop her head. She had walked down the aisle, looking from side to side at her guests, her blue eyes twinkling with the magic of her day. She even winked at Emily, a sign that she was happy she was there, Emily hoped. Emily sat near the back away from the family members in the first couple of pews. She just wasn’t quite ready to face them just yet.
The wedding was classy, the personification of the Van Wyck name. While Emily couldn’t remember who the groom’s last name was, she knew that he had to have been someone of note. But the wedding itself was a Van Wyck occasion in every sense. The church was massive, with high ceilings and an echo, made distinct by the steps of the guests to their seats. Ornate wood beams matched the golden brown of the wooden pews, filling the giant place. Emily ran her hand absentmindedly over the back of her pew, feeling the smoothness of the wood with the polish that had been applied for the special occasion. The church sparkled with the June sun shining through the paned glass windows, a kaleidoscope of colors shimmering on everything it touched. The calla lilies were white, but the windows created flashes of reds, blues, and green across the flowers. The wreaths were dark green and full. The ribbons and streamers were also white but reflected the sun’s effects. The church was bright and vibrant and Emily couldn’t help but shed a tear. This is beautiful, she thought to herself as the tear snaked its way through her made up cheek. Her makeup was ruined but she didn’t care. It’s just how I’d like my wedding.
Once up on the altar, Whitney and the groom, announced Rupert Billings, promised to love one another and shared their vows. Emily didn’t hear the vows though. She was caught up in the ecstasy of love and wedded bliss. She looked around at the confection of colors before her eyes landed on the man next to the groom.
He was staring straight at her. He caught her off guard, taking her breathe away with the ferocity of his gazing. She quickly looked down at her balled up tissue clenched in between her hands. She used the tissue, wiping away the evidence of her tears before glancing up again. He was still staring but this time Emily felt able to withstand his eyes.
As she studied, she realized that he was not bad looking. He was older than her, probably late twenties, early thirties. He wore his designer tux with confidence, no paunch needing to be covered or awkwardness to conceal. His hair was styled short, his dark brown slightly spiked with gel. He was clean shaven, not necessarily Emily’s type, but she found that it worked for him. While not tall, he seemed to command her attention, even from her spot near the back of the church. And all the while, he stared.
Emily didn’t feel revulsion from his stare, but mysteriousness. This man knew nothing about her, her past, her history with this family. Yet he was drawn to her. She found the thought of this man intoxicating. She was so entranced by him that she missed the kissing of the bride and groom. She only came out of her reverie when the applause for the happy couple broke out. As they came down the aisle, Emily stood, clapping. The best man and his assigned bridesmaid soon followed. He glanced at her yet again before stepping outside and thus, out of her sight.
As guests began to file out, Emily felt the nudge of someone behind her. She turned and was met with her father’s eyes. She smiled automatically, but with no true enthusiasm. “Hello,” she stated evenly, looking at his worn face.
Life had not been kind to her father. All of his drinking and gambling and smoking seemed to etch the worry lines and wrinkles upon his leathery face. While he still had his curly mop of dark hair, the hair itself looked thin, stringy. What was once lustrous in her child eyes, now looked dull, streaked with more greys and whites than soft brown. He half smiled at her, never showing her his teeth. She wondered if he had lost some and was ashamed. “Hello Emily.” Never one to use nicknames or pet names, her father had always just referred to her as Emily.
An uncomfortable air of tension developed between them as they stood there looking at one another. Emily hadn’t seen her father since her graduation day, when she had given her valedictorian speech. While her mother and relatives had hugged her and smiled through their tears of happiness, her father simply stood back, waiting his turn. When he finally had his chance he said, “It was a nice speech,” his hands clasped behind his back.
Emily nodded. “Thank you. I worked really hard on it,” she said, a sense of pride building in her. It was her accomplishment, and hers alone.
“Did you really mean what you said, about chasing your dreams and going after what you truly want?” he asked. He was scanning the audience, as if looking for someone.
“Absolutely. I cannot wait to go to college and achieve everything that I want.” Emily tried to follow his eyes to see who he was looking for.
Before she had the chance, her father swung his eyes back to hers, and bore through them. “I give it a year, and you’ll be back here,” he stated before strolling over to one of his golfing pals.
Emily stood, stupefied, by what had just occurred. The crowds milled around her, families and well wishers of her fellow graduates. But she didn’t see any of them, didn’t hear their words of congratulations to their loved ones. She only heard her father, saw his look of glee at telling her that she would be nothing.
And now having him in front of her, all Emily could think about was his last words. She tossed her hair defiantly and glared at him as if he were below her. “How are things?” she asked, looking around as if looking for someone. But already she was looking to escape. She didn’t know how to be this person, someone who could treat someone so horribly.
“Everything’s fine. And you?” he asked, looking around himself. He pulled off his spectacles and began cleaning them with a cloth from his pants pocket before placing them back on the bridge of his beak-like nose.
Then why even come over and talk to me, she thought to herself as she caught herself rolling her eyes. Some things never change. “Everything’s great for me. Still at Northwestern, still planning to go into medicine,” she said, fighting back the urge to just walk away. Their encounter was brutal for her, which is why she chose to sit away from the family to begin with.
He smiled wanly. “Sure you will,” he said, patronizing. “We’ll all be very pleased to see you accomplish this…choice.”
Emily stood speechless. He had done it again. Like so many times before, he had let her know, in his own way, that she still couldn’t succeed in his eyes. She was still her mother’s daughter and therefore, would amount to nothing. Before she had a chance to recover and snap something back at him, he asked, “So are you staying for the reception?”
Emily gritted her teeth. “Yes,” she said simply. She wanted this conversation to be over.
“So then you’ll be a part of the wedding pictures then?”
“What do you mean? The pictures they take at the reception?”
He shook his head, chuckling at her supposed faux pas. “No, Emily. The pictures they take outside. The wedding pictures. Whitney would like one of the whole family. To mark the occasion of the whole family together, on her happy day.”
Emily was taken aback slightly but tried to not show it in her face. She had been unaware that she would be needed in one of the actual wedding pictures. “Of course. I mean, after all, I am part of the family,” she stated, looking her father right in his watery eyes.
He looked right back. “Sure. Sure you are,” he said, his wan smile making a brief appearance at her remark. Suddenly he saw someone over her shoulder. “Excuse me, there’s someone I need to speak to over there,” he said. He patted her shoulder, saying “Enjoy the rest of your night,” before walking away.
Emily stood, stupefied yet again. While a year of independence had given her a wealth of confidence, her father had taken it all away in their short exchange. She remembered how she felt at her graduation and realized he had made her feel the same once again. Why do I let him affect me? Why do I care? She shook her head, as if to disperse his nasty words in her mind, and walked out of the pew and out the front double doors of the church.
Once outside, the sun blinded Emily, making her unsure as to where she was going. Shading her eyes with her hands, the glowing orbs that obscured her vision slowly began to grow smaller, until they finally faded from her sight. She looked around to see other guests milling about. They were waiting for something, what she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been to too many weddings and only when she was a child, so wedding protocols were unfamiliar to her.
She stood off to the side, waiting to see what would happen. No one else came up to her and she was able to breath. She tried to calm the nerves that her father had erupted in her, the fears and doubts that she had about herself on a daily basis. While confident in her academic career at Northwestern, she often had doubts about her abilities. She knew that it came from this side of her lineage, but try as she could, she could not make that tiny voice inside her go away. Except today the voice was loud, silencing anything else she may feel about herself. She needed time to process, to silence the voice, but before she could, the newly married couple rounded the corner of the church. Emily stood straighter, trying to show no fear.
Whitney smiled at the crowd that surrounded her and her new husband. “Hi guys. Thank you so much for coming and for waiting to see us off. We’re still going to be awhile with our wedding pictures, so why don’t you go ahead without us? Enjoy the party and we’ll be there as soon as possible!” she gushed, her pearly teeth gleaming in the sun, pinkness filling her cheeks.
The crowd erupted in applause, with Emily following a few seconds after. Then the crowd began to move towards their cars, and the newly minted Buicks and Cadillacs slowly drove off the pebbled path and onto the main drag into town.
Emily stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Already her heels were hurting her, digging into the soft pads of her feet, scrunching up her toes. She wanted to take them off, but knew that now was not the time. She needed to find out what she was supposed to do, if the picture she was supposed to be in was to be taken here at the church or at the reception itself.
Finally, she began to walk towards Whitney herself, as Emily figured that if anyone knew when this picture would be taking place, it would be Whitney. “Hey Whitney. Congratulations,” Emily said when she was close enough to her.
Whitney turned and smiled her big smile, teeth even bigger up close. “Emily! I’m so glad you could make it! You will be coming to the reception, yes?” Whitney chattered, clearly excited.
“Yes, I’m coming to the reception,” Emily smiled at the pure exuberance of Whitney. It was nice to see her like this, so open and happy. “But I had a question about the pictures. Father said that there was going to be one with the whole family, but I was just wondering if that would be here or at the reception?” Emily asked.
Whitney’s smile dimmed slightly, a cloud rolling over her face. “Oh,” she said, turning to her mother, Emily’s aunt with the plumpness of Mrs. Doubtfire, but with none of the joy in her face.
Aunt Millie had never been a fan of Emily’s mother. They had been friends in high school but soured when she began to date her older brother, Emily’s father. She was one of the first to call her old friend a gold digger and often looked at Emily as something she could just wish away. She had the same expression on her face now as she came closer to Emily and Whitney. “We actually thought that it would be a good idea for you to sit this one out,” Aunt Millie stated slowly, placing her hand on Whitney’s forearm.
Color drained as Emily began to pale. “Why?” she asked softly, looking between the two women in front of her.
The two looked at one another, similar in both looks and actions. Whitney nodded slightly at her mother, who patted her daughter’s arm in reassurance and turned back to Emily. “We just feel that it should be immediate family only,” Aunt Millie stated, more firmly this time.
As this conversation was occurring, the rest of the family began to slowly move behind Whitney and Aunt Millie. The groom and his family stood off to the side, unsure as to what was going on and what they should do.
Emily looked at her father’s side of the family staring at her and felt very alone. “But if my father is in the picture, then why can’t I?” she asked still in a soft tone. Inside her head, a voice was screaming at her, begging her to shut up and let it go already.
Grandmother stepped forward. She was smaller than Emily had remembered, with her stooped back and cane for support. But her eyes shone through the web of wrinkles and excess flesh on her face and they showed determination. “He’s immediate family. You’re not,” she stated punctuating her last sentence for emphasis.
Emily felt as though she had been slapped. This little woman, who she had loved as her grandmother, had reduced her to nothing in their eyes. Not letting them see the tears in her eyes, Emily looked down, looking at the blades of green grass whipping themselves at her fancy heels. Even they seemed to not want her there anymore. “Okay,” she whispered before backing up and turning to walk to her car.
With each step, the family behind her began to talk, to whisper amongst themselves, probably about Emily. The family had returned to normal, with Whitney being the belle of the ball and ready to take more pictures.
Emily trudged to her borrowed car, hating that it wasn’t a new Buick. She unlocked the door and fell into the driver’s seat, leaving the car door opened. She gasped for breath as the tears rolled down her eyes, expertly applied mascara coloring her tears as they streaked down her cheeks. Why did I come? she asked herself. They don’t want me. And why do I care? She pounded her palms on the steering wheel, cursing aloud at her weakness in front of her family. They always did this, and she always let them. After a few minutes of jagged sobbing and cursing, Emily was finally able to catch her breath and slow her tears to a minimum. She contemplated her next move.
A part of her wanted to just leave. Maybe she could go see her mother. Emily’s mom had not been invited to the wedding, of course, so Emily didn’t tell her that she was going, so as to not cause any friction between the two of them. Emily knew her mother loved her, but she also knew that a part of her was still mad at the Van Wyck in Emily. She would never talk to her mother about the Van Wycks, or what they were doing because she knew that it would only upset her mother. So a part of her wanted to see her mother, to see the look of surprise when Emily stated that she was there for a weekend visit.
But another part of her, possibly the Van Wyck part of her, still wanted to go to the wedding reception. She wanted to prove to them that they didn’t affect her, that she was fine without their approval. Hell, she was excelling despite their comments on her and her abilities to succeed. Before thinking any further, Emily started the car, put it into drive and drove the hour to the reception by the lake.
* * * * *
The lake was surrounded by log cabins, one of which was owned by the Van Wycks. It was a very exclusive community of summer homes for the more wealthier people in central Illinois. It was the place to go and be recognized for your monied status. So of course, Whitney’s reception had to be held in the hall nestled in between the cabins. It was a meeting place in the summer months, a place to have dances, play games, even have activities for the younger children. But this night, it was only for the ones who were invited to Whitney’s reception.
By the time Emily swung her car into the paved parking lot and parked near the end of the lot, she had calmed down. She knew that she just needed to be in a room with these people and survive the night. Filled with resolve, she turned off the engine, put her high heels back on, and stepped out into the fading sunlight. It was nearing dusk, with the crickets and fireflies singing their serenades over the cooling air. The lake was always a favorite of Emily’s, getting to come on the weekends when her grandparents were out there. Looking at the lake for a moment, she remembered when they would swim in its darkness, not minding being dirty when they got out. Emily smiled, and promised to come out to the lake just once this evening before she turned away and started to walk towards the hall.
The hall was only half full, half of the wedding guests still arriving when Emily entered through the open doors. While the church was adorned with the brilliant colors of the sun through the stained glass windows, the hall instead seemed muted. The colors were still white, with white tablecloths covering the rounded, massive tables and wicker chairs to match. The flowers were white calla lilies, both in the centerpieces on the tables and with the white streamers tacked around the walls and ceiling. Even the stage for band was white. The only other colors that were seen were the black vests of the waiters, and the pastels worn by the wedding guests. To Emily, it seemed sterile, not vibrant and full of what love should be.
She paused at the door before heading to the nearest table. Of course the tables had place cards for where the guests were to sit and Emily surveyed each card, looking for her name. She finally found it near the back, at the last table. It’s nice to see how much the family wanted me here, she thought wryly, noting that she was not with her other family members, but with strangers. But she was okay with this. She had had enough of her family.
Emily settled into her seat, waiting for the night to begin. She watched as the band began to tune their musical instruments. She had always wanted to learn how to play the guitar and was always interested in what others did when they played, how they prepared. She was completely unaware when someone sat down in the seat next to her. It was only when he spoke that she was brought out of her reverie.
“So, how did you enjoy the wedding?” the voice asked.
Emily turned to the direction of the voice and found herself staring into the eyes of the best man. His eyes were brown, a soft chocolate with deep pools with blackness at their centers. His eyes seemed to twinkle at her surprise, a slow smile sliding onto his face.
“I’m sorry. Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice.
Emily blushed slightly before tossing back her curls. “No, I wasn’t expecting anyone. I also wasn’t expecting you,” she said archly, her eyebrows hitching up at his flirting. Emily wasn’t the best flirter but she knew she was the best at banter, especially with frat brothers who thought they had a chance with her.
He laughed, making a loud bellowing that caused others to look at them. Emily was embarrassed but also secretly happy. These people would finally see who she was, and not just some awkward wallflower.
“I didn’t realize I was being funny. Or have you already started drinking?” she asked him, sniffing in his direction.
He leaned forward. “No I haven’t been drinking. But if you don’t believe me, sniff away,” he said, his smile growing bigger and showing more teeth.
Emily hesitated for a moment. It felt like he was daring her, testing her to see how far she would go. Then she leaned in, taking in his breath and smelling him. He smelled slightly of liquor, but it was almost absorbed by his AXE body spray and his natural odor. Even his breath smelled delicious, like candied apples and butterscotches. “Hmmm,” she murmured, leaning back in her seat. “You smell like you’ve had some candy.”
He chuckled, this time his chortle quieter, throatier. “You caught me,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “They won’t serve the dinner until everyone arrives and I’m starving, so I snuck a couple of snacks.”
Emily smiled, crossing her legs as she got comfortable in her chair. She noticed how his eyes looked down for a moment at her legs before swinging them back to her eyes.
“So how are you a part of this wedding? I mean, are you related to someone, friends with someone?” he asked, crossing his arms onto the table.
Emily looked at him, contemplating. She was hesitant on what to say, not wanting to get into her family traumas with a complete stranger. Finally she said, “I’m related to the bride. You?”
“I’m best friends with the groom, Rupert. Known him since freshman year in college when we both pledged the same fraternity. God, that must have been…15 years?” he said, looking up at the ceiling when talking of the years.
“Wow, so you’re like really old.”
He laughed again. “Yes, I’m really old,” he said, shaking his head. “So how about you?”
“You want to know how old I am?” Emily asked, laughter just bubbling underneath. “You sure you don’t just want to card me right now?”
His face turned mock serious. “Yes ma’am, I’m going to need to see some id,” he stated, nodding his head. “Come on. Out with it.”
Emily erupted in laughter. “You’re mad!” she giggled, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around her ribs to contain her amusement. “I don’t even know you, so why would I ever show you my id?”
“You’re absolutely right. You don’t know me. So let’s fix that-my name is Andrew,” he said, holding his hand out to hers.
She unclasped her hand from her rib, her giggles finally subsiding, and shook his hand. “Emily.”
Their hands stayed together for a few moments, his olive-toned hand enveloping her pale hand. Then he smiled again. “Now how about that id?” he said, setting off another peal of laughter from Emily.
* * * * *
The two of them conversed for a while as the other wedding guests and family members began to arrive. Then Whitney and Rupert arrived and were brought in as the band’s singer announced them as Mr. and Mrs. Billings. By this time, Andrew had to leave Emily and take his place at the front table. Throughout the night’s rituals, the dinner, the toasts, Andrew would occasionally meet Emily’s eyes, smiling and winking.
Emily was beyond flattered. Sure, boys had flirted with her before, but never someone like Andrew. He was a man, with an ease and confidence that she never saw in the boys that she dated. And he was a part of the sect that she was excluded from. He was allowed to be around her family and not be intimidated. She had images of falling in love with this man, maybe even marrying him and having her reception here. Her wedding reception would have all the love that seemed to be absent in this sterile environment. And she would finally be accepted by her family, because how else could this man love her if she wasn’t deserving of that love?
He took so much notice of her that Whitney noticed. After the dinner and first dance, Whitney cornered Emily outside of the bathroom, in the hallway outside the main room.
“Hey,” Whitney said, grabbing Emily’s arm. “What’s going on?”
Emily pulled her arm out of Whitney’s grasp. “What are you talking about?” she snapped, still sore from the encounter outside the church.
Whitney stepped closer, peering into Emily’s eyes. “You know what I’m talking about,” she said. “What is going on between you and the best man?”
Emily looked away. “Why is it any of your business?” she asked, folding her arms into herself.
“It’s not,” Whitney said, taking a pause. “But you should know that he’s married.”
Emily looked back at Whitney in disbelief. “You’re lying.”
Whitney simply shook her head. “I’m not.”
“Then where is she? What, you didn’t invite her?” Emily shot back.
Whitney’s eyes widened. “Why are you acting like this? I’m trying to warn you. She’s at home with their kid. He’s only three and their regular sitter cancelled on them,” she said. “Ask him. Ask him about his family.”
“I will,” Emily stated, but already her resolve was wavering. “But even if I do, there’s still nothing going on.”
Whitney stood there, staring at Emily, to the point that Emily began to get antsy under her scrutiny. Then she sighed and said, “I just thought I should warn you,” and then turned on her heel and walked away.
Emily stood in the hallway, flummoxed. She didn’t know what to think, her daydreams of a happily ever after fading away. Who was this guy? And why didn’t he just tell her the truth?
Needing some air, Emily turned to go outside, avoiding the main room’s entrance and going out the side door. It had turned dark while she was inside, the insects creating their mating songs in the darkness, searching for one another in blackness. She followed their serenades to the lake, stopping at the water’s edge. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to stay warm. While the air was still warm, the breeze off of the lake sent shivers through her blood, causing goose bumps to cover her flesh. She stilled her body and her mind, wanting to do nothing, think nothing, only look to the lake.
“What are you doing out here?” a voice asked, breaking her out of her meditative state. She turned to see Andrew standing there a few feet away, grinning at her.
Emily stiffened slightly. She wanted to be alone, to turn off her mind and not think about the consequences of doing anything/nothing. But here was one of those anythings, looking so lovely in the light of the full moon. She was still undecided when he spoke again.
“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, replacing his grin with a look of concern. He stepped closer to her, bringing his natural heat to her, enveloping her.
She warmed to his heat and inhaled his delicious scent. She looked down, smiled to herself, and shook her head. “Everything’s fine,” she said, looking up into his eyes. In the darkness they looked like pools of water, mirroring the lake. “It wouldn’t be a wedding without some family drama.”
He put his soft hands on her arms and began to move them up and down, creating a fraction of warmth against her goose bumps. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, leaning his head towards hers.
Emily could feel him pulling her closer. She hesitated, thinking about what Whitney had told her. Then she said, “Whitney told me you’re married.” She peered into his eyes to see his reaction.
His hands froze for a moment on her arms before continuing their up and down movement. But his eyes showed genuine shock. They widened as he looked down at her. “Why would she say that?”
Relief flooded through Emily. “Well, we’re not very close,” she began.
“No, that’s crap,” he interrupted. “She’s knows I’m not married. So why would she do that to you, to me?”
Emily felt the need to reassure him, to calm him down. “No, you see, this is my family. They like to cause trouble, to make me feel bad,” she explained, putting her own hands on his shoulders unconsciously.
“Is that what was happening at the church?”
Emily’s hands flew to her face, covering it. “Oh my God, you saw that?” she sputtered. “That was so embarrassing.”
“Hey,” he said, pulling her hands from her face and holding them. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. They should. That was disgraceful how they treated you.”
Emily looked down, feeling the blush move across her face. At that moment she felt loved, protected by someone who understood and was as disgusted by her family as she was. “They’ve done it to me all my life.”
Andrew pulled her into his arms, pressing her small body into his muscular frame. He made her feel safe and she leaned in, trying to mold her skin into his, to become one. He held her for a while and she breathed in his intoxicating smell, enamored of this man and the way he made her feel.
“Hey,” he said, pulling away slightly. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Emily hesitated for a second. She knew where this was going and she knew what her family would say. But she didn’t care; she knew the truth about Andrew and, more importantly, she knew the truth about her family. They were nasty, and they didn’t care about her. But for once, she didn’t care what they thought. She looked up at his olive skinned face, glistening under the shine of the moon, his eyes, both dark pools of understanding, and decided. “Let’s go,” she answered.
* * * * *
The two of them scurried away to one of the cabins away from the reception hall. Andrew jiggled his pockets, pulling out a key and inserting it into the door’s lock. With a click, the heavy door swung open, disappearing into the darkness of the cabin. Andrew released Emily’s hand and stumbled around until he turned on a lamp by the side of the futon.
Emily tried to look around the cabin, to familiarize herself with her surroundings, but never had the chance. Andrew came up to her and put his moist lips over hers, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth, almost causing her to gag. As he kissed her, his hands that at the lake had been so soft, now seemed to be everywhere, in her hair, on her chest, cupping her ass. As he searched her body roughly, scouring every hill and valley through her dress, Andrew began to push her towards a darkened room, closing the front door of the cabin with his foot.
Once in the room, Emily felt blind, unable to see anything in the pitch blackness. Then she was falling, Andrew having pushed her onto the bed. No words were spoken between them as Emily began to feel that it was all somehow so wrong. He shoved up her dress, her pretty polka dot dress, up over her waist, breasts, and head. Emily could hear the fabric rip as he wrenched it from her head. Poor Sally, she thought. She’ll be so angry if her dress is ruined. But it didn’t even slow down Andrew.
He brushed his lips roughly over her neck, bruising her tender skin as his hands grasped at her bra, trying to undo it, before also shoving it up and over her head. Then he licked his way down her body, his tongue snaking his way to her panties. Sucking them slightly, his hands then ripped them off her body, leaving thin lines where her underwear once was. Only her heels stayed on, dangling off her feet, but refusing to fall. Then his hands were inside her.
But something was wrong. Emily wasn’t turned on by his groping. She lay there, still, wanting for some of Andrew’s charm to reappear, to make her feel safe and sexy at the same time. But it didn’t happen. His groping seemed to ignore her and her lack of movement and he just did what he wanted with her. She wondered where the Andrew she had met was and why was she still there with this man. But she didn’t leave.
Quickly Andrew shedded his clothes, throwing them every which way in the blackened room. Then he hoisted himself on top of her, knocking the wind out of her and he crushed her with his hardened mass of a chest. What was once soft and warm to her now just felt like lead, cold and metallic. Bringing her legs up with his beefy arms, he slammed into her, forcing himself inside.
Pain erupted in Emily, and she cried out. She had been with two other guys, but they had been unsure about their sexual prowess and therefore, were intent to please her. But Andrew was confident and sure of himself. Emily turned her head as her tears began to fall from her eyes and onto the home sewn quilt on top of the bed. Andrew saw none of this in the death colored room, darkened by a cloud over the full moon and wanton desire. He plunged into her, over and over again, his groans obscuring her whimpering. His thrusts became harder and faster before spasming a final jerk and falling to the side of her.
Emily covered herself with her arms, feeling like she had rug rash over the entirety of her body. Her flesh was raw, exposed and stinging. Emily hugged herself, turning over to curl into the fetal position. She began to doze when she felt his heat against her back. He whispered round two and seized her arms from behind, pulling them back as he began to take her once again.
He continued his attack on Emily throughout the night, bruising her body and ripping away every last bit of innocence she had left. Somewhere around 3am, Andrew stopped, falling asleep beside Emily.
She didn’t sleep, just listened to his breath as it went in and out of his mouth slower and slower. She was afraid to move, afraid to wake the sleeping beast beside her. By the beginning of dawn’s first light, when she could finally see the room that they were in, she finally began to move, hedging her way slowly to the edge of the bed. She slid off the bed and onto the floor, trying to move as quietly as possible. She pulled off her heels, the only things to stay on her naked body the entire night. She searched the floor for her clothes, intent on covering herself.
Once she gathered everything, she tiptoed out to find the bathroom. She froze at the door frame when his breathing stopped, then sighed as he shifted his position. She looked at him lying on his back just as the light began to filter in, over his body. He looked ugly to her now, his hair greasy from gel, his skin looking dirty, not exotic. She tiptoed closer to look at his face; the face she thought was so lovely yesterday afternoon. But instead of his grin, she saw the lines beginning to form on his face, pockmarked, and the bags under his eyes that could carry quarters. His naked body was not glorious, but sinewy, fighting the signs of aging and losing slowly. She avoided looking at his penis, the weapon he used to assault her. She never wanted to see him again.
Emily left the room without another glance and tiptoed into a bathroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror and was shocked by what she saw. She had bruising along her body, around her wrists and ankles where he held her. Her thighs looked battered, pink and black intensifying as they went up and in. Her back had welts from the coarse quilt on the bed and her neck and breasts were scratched from the bristles of his 5 o’clock shadow. There were also various teeth marks around her breasts.
Emily closed her eyes and willed the need to pass out away. She wanted to go, not pass out. Once she felt sane again, Emily bent down to get dressed. The dress was okay, with just a slight rip on the side, something Emily could fix without Sally ever finding out. Her underwear was unwearable however, having been ripped at the seams. She balled them up and shoved them into her purse. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub to put on her high heels. But she stopped, looking at them. After a minute Emily stood up, heels in hands and found her way to the front room.
Emily looked around the room that she had not had a chance to look at before Andrew’s attack. It was a simple room, with a futon opposite a fireplace and a mantle with pictures. She stepped closer to look at the pictures, then froze. In the three pictures on the mantle, two of them were Andrew with a beautiful brunette woman, around late twenties. In one, he was behind her with his arms wrapped around her. In another, they were staring into each other’s eyes, her with a veil and him in a tux. In the third frame was the two of them, playing with a toddler. A boy. Emily stared into the eyes of the Andrew in the pictures and felt nothing.
Emily turned silently to the front door and opened it. She gazed out into the pink mist of the beginnings of sunrise and the moisture from the lake. She saw it and still didn’t see it. She thought nothing. Her mind was empty, her blood numb. She walked out of the cabin barefoot, leaving the front door open, and walked into the mist, letting it envelop her as she disappeared from sight.