The Long Way Home

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When you hear the phrase "left at the alter", you would most likely picture a big white ball of tulle fleeing the church while her pitiful groom was left behind in the bride's dust. But that's not my story. 

You see, I kept my end of the bargain. I put on the blindingly white gown, hair-sprayed every brunette lock in place and was completely prepared to walk down the isle while all of our closest friends and family watched me eternally tie myself to the man I loved. There was only one problem, he was not. 

As I stood  in the reflection of the full length mirror, I watched as my best friend slowly sauntered into my suite and turn to shut the door. She stood there with her manicured hand propped on the door knob as if to make sure that it remained closed. 

"Hey Jess! So? Do I look okay," I asked as I smoothed the wrinkles on my dress.  

She turned to face me but her eyes never left the floor. She didn't say anything and looked down at her hands. Bothered by her solemn disposition, I asked "Jess, what's wrong?" 

She looked up at me and tried to talk, but instead her mouth just opened and closed. In her hand was a folded note. She slowly approached me and my head dropped to look at the ring that rested on my finger. During our rather long engagement I had developed a nervous habit of fidgeting with it.  

I turned around and took the note from her hand. She held on to the note tightly as I tried to take it from her, reluctant to let me see what was written on the inside. I snatched the note away from her and carefully unfolded it. I scanned the piece of paper and flipped it over trying to find more of an explanation. There in the center of the page, written in his familiar handwriting were two simple words. 

'I 'm sorry'.  

I let the note fall from my hand to the floor. Every memory from the past three years flooded my mind. Every ''I love you" to every fight we had ever had came rushing back. My breath hitched in my throat and tears blurred my vision. 

I clawed at my chest, begging for my lungs to work. And then I saw myself, draped in tulle and with a veil outlining my bridal ensemble. I began ripping at the layers of my gown trying to strip down to my undergarments. I felt as if the corset that I had been crammed into earlier was tightening with every movement. 

Seeing my panic, Jess rushed to my side and began untying the ribbons that entrapped me in the overpriced garment. Once I had broken free I collapsed to the floor and gasped for air. My heart pounded in my chest. My other bride's maids rushed into the room alongside my mother who fought her way through the maroon clad twenty-somethings in order to reach her only daughter.  I welcomed her embrace as she joined me on the floor. 

"Shhhhh Sugar.. It'll be alright," she whispered repeatedly into my hair. Although her words were meant for comfort, I couldn't tell if she was talking to me or partially giving herself reassurance. 

Eventually, the tears slowed and my mother led the bridal party out into the crowd to inform them of the news. I was left in the bridal sweet as Jess started to slowly undo my hair. I caught my reflection in the mirror and a small, pitiful smirk danced on my lips. Black mascara marks trailed down my overly rosy cheeks and the lipstick I was wearing was smeared halfway to my ears. I looked awful! So awful that I couldn't do anything but laugh. Jess looked at me confusedly as my giggles continued. I'm sure my looks and laughter mad me look like a complete crazy person. But knowing what I was thinking, my best friend joined me in my convulsions until we were both wiping tears from our eyes. 

"What am I going to do Jess," I managed to ask between laughs. "Everything I own is in boxes on a moving truck waiting to be unpacked at our new house, there is enough food and boos for two hundred and fifty people outside, a huge cake that can't be returned, and I'm supposed to be on a flight with my husband to Alaska for the honeymoon in the next," I looked at the clock and counted on my fingers, "sixteen hours!" 

Jess' laughter halted and she gasped. She was up in a flash and ran out of the room with her dress hiked up and bunched in one hand, leaving behind her shoes in her tracks. She came back into the room with a bottle in tow. 

THE bottle. 

It was an early wedding gift from Trip's hoity-toity aunt, Hilde, who disapproved of his decision to marry me and instead of attending ceremony sent a bottle of 1956 Glen Grant Whiskey. The bottle that Jake was saving to drink with his boys before we walked down the isle. It was his family's tradition and one that he had continuously talked about since we were engaged. I almost protested, but Jess had already broken the bright red wax seal and started pouring us drinks. 

"Blake, honey," she started. "All of that can wait until tomorrow. But tonight....tonight we drink!" She shoved a glass in my hand and clinked hers against mine. We downed the amber colored contents and I felt it burn all the way to my stomach. 

"Woooo! That's the stuff," Jess hissed as I tried to control my contorted face. She poured us another and we downed it again. 

Pour, clink, drink and repeat. 

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A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for giving this a read and let me know if you like it! I know this is short but it's my first draft ever so......

What do you guys think will happen next?!

-M.T. Campbell