Revenge of a Jilted Bride (#Wattys2015 HQ Love Award Winner)

Maggie: Confession

"I do. I do!"

I stood ramrod straight with a hand stretched up to the ceiling of the musty all-purpose space. The room hushed. I supposed I should turn down the eagerness a notch.

"You have something to share?" I nodded at the elderly woman at the front, named Hazel. "Come up then." She waved me to the front.

I took a tentative step forward. My throat felt parched. I shouldn't have drank that stale coffee when I came in. Caffeine always made me jittery.

"This is a necessary step towards one's growth," I muttered to myself as i made my way to Hazel.

She stepped aside to make space for me at the front. "Go on, dear." She had kind smile. I stretched my lips to try and match hers. I'd always been a bit awkward with trying to connect with people.

Maybe that was another reason for June. The thought saddened me. The list had been getting longer and longer.

Today was a new day. I cleared my throat, facing a diverse group of people before me.

"Hi, my name is Maggie Stewart." I paused to take a big gulp of air in, ready to express my own feelings to these strangers. "and I'm a jilted bride."

Twenty something pairs of eyes stared at me. Stared. Not gawk, or glare, or leer.

Did they not hear what I just said? Did they not see what I had just done? I opened myself up. Something my mother had been trying to get me to do for four weeks now. I cleared my throat again. Maybe they didn't hear me.

I continued to share just in case they did hear what I said. Others might have thought that I'd lost my marbles. Huh, if only that was all I'd lost!

"I was supposed to get married to my fiancé, June, last month, you see. Then on the day of our wedding"-- the day that had completely changed my life --"he didn't show up. He sent a text to his sister, who's also my friend, five minutes before the ceremony started to say that he wasn't coming." I played with my fingers, uneasy with the looks I was getting.

"Then I find out that he had ran away with my bestest girl friend, Delaney. We grew up together. All of us." I counted off the names with my fingers. "Delaney, June, May me. Delaney was my maid of honor too." I shook my head in disgust. "The tramp! How annoying is that?"

There was no answer, instead I glanced back at the crowd, realizing that this time around, the eyes that stared back were now clearly confused eyes.

"Excuse me, dear," Hazel's old-lady voice grabbed my attention from my right side. I turned to her: curly short white hair, plump aging body stuffed in a white blouse and long floral dress, paired with white orthopedic shoes. "You do know that this is Alcoholics Anonymous?" I glanced at my audience again, then back to her and nodded. "Well, are you an alcoholic?"

Was I an alcoholic? I had never even tasted beer. "No," I quietly told her and everyone, "I'm not even allowed to drink. I thought I'd..."

"I'm so sorry dear, but that's what this meeting is for. And we don't just accept those who had been labelled as such. We accept everyone who had problems with any kind off substance abuse."

Substance abuse? "Does this mean I have to go?"

"You can stay, sit and listen." To reiterate, she nodded her head, got up from her seat then ushered me away from the podium.

I relented, "But I just need a few seconds more." She had a death grip on my arms. Why were old women so strong? A few other people from the front row came to help her too.

Great, just great. Not only was I left at the altar, now I couldn't even tell my story to anyone who would want to listen. Maybe I should become an alcoholic... or do marijuana... or...no, I couldn't do all that.