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Tell Aaliyah I’m sorry.
-Jason
The letter crumpledin my tight grip and I sighed, knowing today would be the worst day of Aaliyah’s life.
12
Aaliyah
“I don’t believe this,”I whispered, shock taking over my core. “I can’t believe this…”
Oh God, this was the worst possible thing that could’ve ever happened. I couldn’t believe everything around me was crashing and burning on today of all days. I looked at my phone as tears formed in my eyes. I felt an overwhelming amount of sadness. I couldn’t even explain why.
Feeling alone on your wedding day was never a great thing.
I can’t breathe…
I can’t breathe…
“Why is this happening?” I asked Hannah as I stood in my dressing room, waiting for my bridesmaids to arrive. I wished I could say Hannah was a close friend, but I didn’t really know her all that well. She was the wedding planner Marie had hired and she was in charge of making sure I wouldn’t have the exact breakdown I was currently partaking in.
I stood in front of the floor-length mirror wearing my wedding gown as tears flooded my eyes.
Don’t do it, Aaliyah.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry…
“Oh my gosh!” I sobbed, covering my face with my hands.
“Oh, honey, don’t do that! It’s all right,” Hannah told me.
“How can I not cry? Look at me! I’m fat!” I sobbed, staring at my stomach. Who thought eating a whole basket of bread was a good idea the night before their wedding? Even more so, who thought getting a mermaid dress was a wise idea when one had hips like mine? Why had I done that to myself? Why did I love to self-sabotage?
Jason was right. My ass was fat.
“You’re not fat. You look marvelous,” Hannah promised in such a monotone way. It was clear she had given the “You’re not fat” talk to many brides in her lifetime. She reached for a tissue and started patting at my eyes. “Now stop crying, or we’ll have to keep touching up your makeup.”
I sniffled a bit and stared at myself in the mirror as a few stubborn tears kept falling from my eyes. “Do you think this is the right dress, Hannah?”
She snickered, placing her hands on my shoulders. “I think it’s a bit late to be asking that question.”
I nodded. “I know, it’s just…”
“Butterflies,” she cut in. “It’s wedding day butterflies. I’ve been doing this for over thirty years now, darling—”
“Thirty years?” She must’ve been dying her hair that shade of red. There was no way she could have not one gray hair given the line of work she was in. Nothing makes a person go gray faster than a bridezilla.
“Yes, thirty long years and while all the small details are fun, they don’t really matter much.”
“They don’t?”
“No. It’s not about the dress, or the reception, or the first dance. It’s not about the perfect photographer or a gorgeous bouquet. None of that matters. All that matters is you standing at the end of that long aisle with the love of your life and saying ‘I do.’ The only thing that matters is you two, there, at that moment, together, as you both start writing the opening chapter of your story.”
I released the breath I hadn’t even known I was holding.
She took my hand in hers and squeezed it lightly. “Okay?” she asked.
I nodded. “Okay.”
