The Wedding- A Short Story

The Wedding

Dominic was certain that he had his entire life sorted out. He was set to marry his beautiful fiancee in just a matter of days; he was the CEO of Diesel, and lived with his fiancee in a lavish penthouse within an apartment building in the heart of Los Angeles, the City of Angels. He and Mary, his soon-to-be wife, visited his family back in Salerno, Italy to finish the details for the exquisite wedding that would be hosted right at Dominic's family's country home, and also to enjoy their last few days together as individuals before starting on a journey of a lifetime as a united pair.

    "Nicki, hurry up love!" exclaimed Mary. She looked so young in that moment; the way her eyes gleamed with excitement, a large, goofy smile spread across her entire face, and her hair messily flying behind her as she ran towards me.

    "Mi Bella, be patient," I replied softly, "I don't want to go to my home quite yet. You know how hectic it can be."

    She sighed, rolling her eyes, but nodded in agreement. Her small hand intertwined with mine before leading me to a bench located outside of the entranceway to the airport. We sat there for a while, people watching and discussing final details for our wedding.

I glanced down at my shiny silver watch, creating creases in my face as I sat frowning at the time. "Mary, I think it is time that we go," I said.

She leant over and pecked me on the cheek before leaning back and smiling. She pushed herself off the bench and stretched; her arms reaching to the setting sun, lifting her shirt up slightly to reveal a tiny, heart-shaped birthmark on the small of her back.

She relaxed and smiled cheekily. "Hurry up!" she exclaimed before dashing off to catch a taxi.

I stood up and grabbed our suitcases before meeting Mary at the taxi. Once our luggage was secure, and we ourselves were settled in the backseat of the smelly, dingy-looking taxi, it took off towards my family home.

We reached our destination right as the sun hid its last trace of existence behind the hill that towered over my mother's flower garden- right as the moon stole the spotlight from God's morning star. We thanked the driver and climbed out, standing together and breathing in the fragrant of the countryside. Together, we dragged our heavy luggage to the front door and knocked. Mary giggled as we heard the commotion happening behind the wooden gate that separated peacefulness from boisterousness. The crimson door flew open, revealing seven thrilled faces.

"Dominic! Mary!" they exclaimed ecstatically.

We were engulfed in a sea of arms and the smell of freshly baked cannoli. The excitement and conversations seemed endless as the family got caught up with each other over a bottle of creamy chardonnay. When my mother thought it was time, she rushed us all to our rooms as if we were still young children. Mary kissed me before offering to help my mother clean the living room. I love her kisses, I'm addicted to kissing her- like an alcoholic's need to kiss the rim of a bottle, like a smoker's desire to light the butt of a cigarette. I still can't believe I am the lucky man who gets to spend the rest of my life with such an extraordinary woman.

I must've dozed off because when I opened my eyes, the room was flooded with a golden light pouring in from the little window across from the door. I slowly managed to writhe out of the covers that cocooned my body. I joined my family in the kitchen, where we then sat and woke ourselves up with a cup of strong brewed coffee.

By half past ten, Mary and I were roaming around the town square with hopes of finding little decorations of turquoise and grey colours to accent our otherwise all white wedding. Mary skipped over to a small shop that was selling hand carved, wooden sculptures.

"Honey look at these! Do you think my mother would like one?" Mary asked me, showing me an ocean wave in her right hand and a tree in her left.

I pointed to the tree.