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chapter one
KIRA SASHAYS INTOthe room, a vision in her light pink, floor-length princess chiffon bridesmaid’s dress. The sleeves at her shoulders are so poufy, they cover part of her face.
There’s no denying it’s awful. It made us laugh until our faces turned red when she tried it on in the dressing room. I think the store attendant thought we were having seizures. That’s when we knew it was the perfect maid of honor dress.
“Marin, look at me. All I have to do is hem it and I can totally wear it again.”
We laugh at the version of our favorite quote from the movie27 Dresses.Thank goodness I don’t have an entire bridesmaid line of ladies in those dresses. They’d look like a pink puffball detonated.
The crazy dress doesn’t hide Kira’s beauty with her slim figure, silky brunette bob, and hazel eyes.
Blu and I decided to only have a maid of honor and a best man. We didn’t want a huge wedding party. Even so, our wedding still expanded into a much bigger event than originally planned.
Kira holds out a letter. “Look what I have for you. Found it sticking out of Ben’s backpack, so I snatched it. A letter from Blu on your wedding day. Go figure, he’s a romantic. You’re one lucky girl.”
“Don’t I know it.” The man doesn’t belong in the boring accounting world. He’s a square peg in a round hole.
I carefully arrange my wedding dress and take a seat, eager to read Blu’s letter. I can hear the light chatter of the guests as they assemble in the chapel, just above the strumming of a harp. The air is filled with the fragrance of flowers. It’s almost time.
I tear open the envelope and let my eyes feast on my love letter.
Ben, the best man who happens to also be Kira’s brother, rushes into the room, stumbling and looking harried while holding his backpack. “Kira, have you seen…?” He gasps when he sees me with the letter. “I’m sorry, Marin.”
“Sorry,” I mumble as I begin to read. “Why should you be sorry?”
My dearest Marin,
Go ahead, you can hate me. It’s the only possible outcome after my actions today. You don’t need my permission, but I grant it anyway.
By now you know I’m not going toshow. Sorry feels patronizing, yet I have to say it anyway.
I’m truly sorry from the bottom of my heart.
WAIT. What? The letter crumples between my shaking fingers as I feel my face flush.
Blu is not going to show? He’s actually leaving me standing at the altar, brokenhearted and humiliated in front of all our friends and family? We sent out our Save the Date cards a year ago. A YEAR AGO!
Marin and Blu, a lifetime for two.
It seemed so endearing when we thought up the little rhyme, the theme for our wedding. In light of recent revelations, it seems so incredibly…silly.
Who knew the groom would be the no-show, the one person who forgot to save the date?
I return to the painstakingly neat handwritten letter. He wasn’t in a hurry. He took his time writing this, like he spent all night agonizing over it. I suppose I should be thankful he didn’t break up with me through a text. But I’m not exactly in a thankful mood right now. I look up at a stunned Kira and a worried Ben, meeting their anxious gazes. I continue reading, tears beginning to blur my vision. There goes my makeup. But the way I look is now the least important thing on my mind.
The pasttwo years with you have been amazing. I mean, mind-blowingly beautiful. I know how much you loveme. And I know you know how much I love you. I love the way you love me. Your love is unconditional, pure, and so true it scares me. I know how shocked you must feel, how stunned. I can picture the tears as they drip from your blue eyes. I can imagine thetrail they leave on your cheeks as they soak into your blonde hair. I want to reach out and dry your tears, to save you from the pain I’m inflicting upon you.
But I can’t. I just can’t. Just know my pain joins yours.
You know mystory, Marin. I’ve never held back how painful my parents’ divorce was for me, how it tore our family apart—how it tore me apart. They went their separate ways and left me behind. Then,a year later, they decided to give marriage another go. So much constant arguing, yelling,and screaming at each other while I sat in my room covering my ears. It did something to me, although if you asked me to define it, I couldn’t. Let’s just say it changed me in ways I wish it hadn’t. Their second go at marriage lastedsix horrible vase-throwing months before they were divorced again.
Blah, blah, blah. How many children can claim the same story? Somehow, we all bounce back and survive it, right?
No, not really. Here’s the secret no one ever talks about. We pretend everything’s fine. In all actuality, our lives have been torn apart during our most vulnerable years and we’re very aware we will never be the same person again.
Ever.
Then there’s the wondering. Who would we have been if this had never happened to us? Stronger, better, different?
