Third Wheeling It

The Catalyst

"Hanging in tight there?" Hayley says, weaving her way through the arms, clothes, and faces that part for her. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm all good," you slather on a smile, "It's you who should be getting pampered tonight." you steer her by the shoulder, leading her back through the swaying crowds where she's supposed to be. The sun flays down on you, making sweat bead your forehead.

You finally reach the podium and give her a gentle push that's meant to tell her she should be up there on the main stage, hogging up all the attention and compliments she deserves.

"Are you sure—" Hayley makes as if to turn around, but you place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it.

"Jordan?" you say, aiming your words at a lofty man standing a few feet away, the nape of his neck facing you. He turns around, the sunlight reflecting off his close-shaved beard and hair gel.

"I think you're forgetting something?" you say, prodding your bestie forward.

You wouldn't have dared to speak like this at anyone else's prewedding, but what else are best friends for? You knew the moment the event was booked, that you were going to be the VIP guest, bridesmaid, chivvier, and conversation starter all rolled into one.

Also maybe the most high-risk and fragile person on scene, but let's forget that.

Jordan and Hayley exchange a glance and Jordan looks at you while Hayley very obviously pretends to smoothen her dress.

"So," he clears his throat, a hand in pocket, the other settling around his bride's shoulders, "Is everything fine-"

"Yes," you say, and this time, your voice comes out more high pitched than it's supposed to. You swallow, "I'm sorry, but I'm doing absolutely wonderfully. Don't worry about me. This is your evening." and you add another smile to make it sound smooth.

Before they can respond or even bat an eye, you swivel around and battle your way through the throng of guests which, most funnily, do not part for you. Your eyesight hazy, you plod towards the tray of drinks and grab one, immersing yourself in the cool lusciousness of guava and alcohol. You down the entire glass, your eyes closed, waiting for your pulse to return to normal and the world to stop swimming.

Is it so hard? Is it so hard for them to leave you alone? To stop pretending you're this fragile mannequin on the verge of shattering into pieces? To just step back and forget that this situation is everything but normal?

It wasn't easy for you. It wasn't easy for you to don the ridiculous purple dress that you're wearing now, cake yourself with makeup, plaster a smile, and arrive at this pre-wedding party. It especially wasn't easy to see your best friends moving around together, arms linked, exchanging smiles and shy looks and even a kiss or two...

The guilt is stronger now, gushing out through the pores of your skin and enveloping you like a disease, threatening to gnaw at you from within. You promised yourself you would be normal and respectable, and avoid all awkward situations because Hayley and Jordan are awesome people and don't deserve it.

So far, you've done a shoddy job out of it at best.

I'm happy, you tell yourself, clenching your teeth, I'm happy. I'm happy. I'm happy.

You don't stop that mental mantra until it's ricocheting in your head, your voice blotted and bleary like some ad for kids that flopped in twenty-four hours.

You glance up and spot Hayley watching you from over the distance, a frown kneading her forehead. Jordan's not around, but you sure as hell know what they both think of you.

Since you can't make this situation worse anyway, you slap another 100-watt smile onto your face and give her a huge wave and a flying kiss.

It's not easy, you tell yourself, to watch your childhood friend get married. Both your best friends get married to each other.

It's not easy, after you spent years thinking it was going to be you...