Failed Wedding and a Therapy Session

Short

I sat down on the beige couch in the therapist's waiting room. It had been two weeks since the disaster of a wedding. I had to talk to someone before I spiralled back into the depths of depression. I looked around. There were only a few people apart from me in the room. They all seemed to have their little quirks. The girl in the corner of the room must have been at least fifteen, yet she still wore the clothes of an eight year old. A man sat a couple of chairs away from her, his eyes were electric blue, but underneath was dark bags as if he hadn't slept in weeks. His leg bounced on the floor, his hand on it. I saw that his knuckles were bruised and scabbed. I took note of the walls, and how easily it could have been the mans' punching wall, but that would entirely defeat the purpose of the therapy. The walls were white with pictures of the ocean. It was supposed to soothe a patient, but it did quite the opposite to me. It was a constant reminder of what had happened on my wedding day. It seemed to haunt me.
I refocused on the people around me when a phone started to ring. I looked towards the receptionist and was instantly stunned by her beauty. Her hair was golden blonde compared to my dirty brown, and her aqua eyes seemed to shine like the ocean, the ocean which would forever haunt my memories. She was smiling, and the aura around her was just positive. It made me sick to know how happy she was, because I was once exactly like that, and somehow it was all drained away.
How ironic.
I couldn't comprehend how every individual was different from each other, or how a person could be so naïve to be happy when happiness never lasts. But then I wonder if her happiness was just a façade, a mask to protect others of her own self, because there had been too many times where I had done that too. She caught me staring and I instantly shifted my gaze to my lap. I started fidgeting with my black jumper trying to smooth creases on my arms, but they were stubborn and wouldn't go away. I started becoming self-conscious at how I looked.
I hate this.
"Lily?" asked the girl at reception. I was forced to look at her and smile as I walked to the next room. I kept questioning the authenticity of her happiness. Because there had been too many times where I would put on a mask to reassure people I was alright, but how could I be when the horrible truth comes to light? That the person who claimed to love you for the past five years suddenly doesn't anymore. I opened the door to my therapist's room. It was more appealing than the last. Its walls were lilac with paintings of Japanese girls in their red elegant dresses dancing under a rain of pink petals. I walked towards the white couch, which had been more of a sanctuary, and sat across from Marian. Her hair had turned grey over the years but she still remained the person who many people, including myself, sought guidance from.
"How is my Lily today?" she asked. I shook my head at the floor and answered in a whisper, "Not good." My eyes met hers and she waited for an explanation. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a photograph from my wedding. I quickly ran my eyes over the image, me in the middle, smiling, wearing the delicate dress. I was happy. My brother, Jake, and his friend, Ben, were at the front, talking about how well the weather was for the occasion. My sister, Isobel, was behind me, her hair tied neatly into s pony tail. Then my two friends, Amy and Kayla, were on either side of Isobel. It was a perfect day.
I handed the photo to Marian. She smiled and commented how beautiful I looked. I smiled but it disappeared quickly. She watched the shift in emotions and finally asked the question, "What happened?" I took the photo back and started talking.
"We had decided to have the wedding on the beach. It was a beautiful day, my brother had said so as well." I paused and remembered the day. The sand glistening under the sun and the water was clear. The smell of salt was there, but everyone's perfume overpowered it. The sun was warm on my skin. It was a beautiful day.
"Everyone was happy. I was happy for the first time in years. Everyone looked beautiful. I looked towards Sam, my soon to be husband, but there was no emotion to his face. The 'Wedding March' came on and I started walking down the wooden aisle." Everyone stood as I walked down. My heels made a faint tap on the wood. I got to the end and waited.
"The priest started to bless the two of us, but I kept trying to find any emotion from Sam. He seemed angry, or had an ulterior motive. I couldn't read him. After five years of being with each other, after all the times of him confessing his love to me, he didn't smile." I breathed in to gain control of my shaky voice. I could feel my lungs contract as I breathed out. My heart was crumbling as I spoke. "The priest then asked if I would take Sam Cross as my lawfully wedded husband. I looked at the person I had loved and would continue to love and said, 'I do.' But when the priest asked Sam the same question he paused, and looked me straight in the eyes and gave a malicious smile and said; 'I don't."
The tears began to fall from my eyes and roll down my cheeks. The tears came towards my mouth and all I could taste was salt, just like the day he had shattered my world.
It was supposed to be my special day.