Moving Forward.

"Becca lets go, I don't want to be late!" Ryan calls up the stairs."Can you give me a minute goddamn!" I yell at him. I don't understand why he's so worried about being late to my mothers wedding, her fifth one to be exact, not including my dad. It's not like it's anything new. Plus he hates my mother, which isn't really a surprise, most people do. Out of her five husbands all of them have left her, she just wasnt the same after Dad died. That was four and a half years ago. After my dad died, I clung to the closest guy who would give me the slightest form of attention. The guy just happened to be Ryan. I guess you could say he was "my high school sweetheart". We met through mutual friends and after a couple drunken hookups, we both decided we might as well just be date. After high school we moved in to our first apartment together. A year or two into our relationship the honeymoon phase wore off. That's when the little quarrels about him leaving the toilet seat up and me leaving my dirty clothes all over the floor became childs play. Fights evolved into late night screaming matches about him staying out till three in the morning and me not being able to hold a job. They usually ended with me sobbing on the floor with my nose gushing blood or him being taken away in a police car. Last spring he broke my arm and I almost left but he said he was sorry and promised he would never do it again. I don't know why I believed him.

"Becca what the fuck are you doing up there? Let's go!" he yells and I snap back to reality.

"I'm putting my shoes on! Fuck you're so annoying!" I yell back. I grab my black heels and slip them on my feet. They clash with my short purple dress that hugs my petite frame perfectly. Before exiting the bathroom I run my fingers through my jet black hair one more time and apply another coat of dark red lipstick. I scurry down the hallway and clomp down the stairway in my five inch heels. "Finally. Can we go now?" he says with a irritated tone "Yes, god you're so fucking impatiant" I saw as we walk out the door and down the driveway. We get into the car and almost immediately he put his shitty eighties hair band music on full blast and pull out of the driveway. Annoyed and craving nicotine, I reach for my purse and pull out a pack of Marlboro Red's and a lighter. I put the lit cigarette between my lips, careful not to smear my lipstick, and take a long satisfying drag blowing the smoke out the window.

"I know you don't care if you smell like smoke, but I do. So if you're going to ride in my car you're not allowed to smoke." Ryan says "I'll put my cigarette out when you turn your shitty music down." I say with a slight attitude. "This is my fucking car either put it out or get out. Which one is it Becca?". I look at him with a straight face as I flick the cigarette out the window. "Thank you Bec" he says satisfied "Anthing to please you Ryan" I retort in a sarcastic tone and that was the end of that argument. After we had been driving for a while we start getting close to the chapel. I start reviewing the past five weddings i've been foreced to attend, and for some reason im feeling anxious. Maybe it's becuase everytime I see my mother all she does is bitch at me because I didn't go to college or how I can't hold a job. Finally, after driving for what feel like forever, we finally pull up to the victorian stlye building. I close my eyes and and take a deep breath. I clench the door handle and step out of the car, carful not break a heel. I run my hands over my dress trying to fix any wrinkles that may have formed during the car ride. Ryan and I walk up the stairs and push open the heavy wood doors. We walk in and sit in the back next to an old couple who smell of soap and moth balls. Suddenly, the loud chattering slowly fades as "Here Comes the Bride" is played on an organ that is no where to be seen. I bow my head hoping the service passes quickly.