Fictional Fridays. Woohoo! Oh wait, it’s Saturday…
Today in honor of… someone being married somewhere in the universe- here’s a story for that.
And so it begins-
Her name was Lacey Greenwald. Soon to be Lacey Greenwald-Smythe.
It was odd, being there. Seeing the ornate little chapel, decorated in maroons, peaches, greens, grays, and a hint of rose gold. There was a glow throughout the little room, coming from rays of sunlight filtering through the wide windows up front.
Each pew had a floral arrangement. String lights hung across the ceiling. And a swirl of violins lingered in the cool spring air.
They had done an excellent job, as the decor was something out of a bridal magazine. Everything was perfect.
Perhaps a little too perfect.
Honestly, I didn’t know the bride much at all. Or the groom. It was all secondhand information from friends of friends. And I was only strictly in attendance as a plus one, with a guy I knew even less about.
The music changed tempos, and suddenly the pastor was stepping forward. Behind him entered the groom, looking as regal and photo ready as to be expected. They took to the stage, and folded their hands in front of them.
The doors swung open from the back of the room, and out came grandparents and parents as the procession began. Then, one after one, bridesmaids in deepest red clutching gray-cladded arms stepped forward. Some held teary-eyed gazes, while others simply looked as if they were concentrating on not tripping.
Then came out the little flower girl, throwing out colorful petals from her basket. The ring bearer trudged up next to her, looking as he was in need of a Happy Meal.
And then there was a pause. The music changed into the wedding march and all arose in the room. I stood with everyone else, as they moved around trying to catch a glimpse of the bride.
Dressed in all white, her arm looped around her father’s, she walked along the aisle with poise and refinement. She was smiling warmly ahead.
Her dress shimmered in the afternoon sun, and it incorporated the fabric that closely resembled her name. I then noticed the accents of lace throughout the room. It was even on the program.
They reached the stage, and the groom’s eyes filled with tears as he went to retrieve his bride from her father.
“Dearly beloved, we our gathered here today….”
I’ve only been to a handful of weddings in my life and never a part of them. But one thing is clear, after what would soon follow-
If I ever was inclined to be married, I’d do it at the courthouse. And I would invite no one.
The music was soft, mellow. I could feel it cut away at my soul. Each stroke was a dagger. Each note was a new wound.
I stood there, helplessly, wondering why was he doing this in the first place. He always said he’d never get married. Fall in love. It just, wasn’t in the cards for him.
But then, what was today? Today he was claiming his love to a woman he’d only known for six months. Today he was committing to her, until death would they part.
I should have been happy for him, my oldest friend. But it was so impossible, trying to find the smallest glimmer of happiness for him.
And I didn’t want to admit it. Not until this morning, when I saw her in that awful dress. But I couldn’t help it. I at least had to try and be honest with myself.
I was in love with Lacey Greenwald. And that was unfortunate, because she was about to be Lacey Greenwald-Smythe. Forever.
The ceremony began, and just as rehearsed, I took my place beside him as best man. My heart soared as she approached, an angel in white and a dazzling smile spreading across her enchanting lips.
Her blonde hair was swooped back into an intricate updo that had probably taken hours to create. Her makeup only highlighted her naturally perfect features and her manicured hands grasped on to a bouquet that brought out the green in her eyes.
But then, as the officiant began to speak, I realized once more that she wasn’t standing before me- but before him. And it shook me to my core.
“If any of you has reasons as to why this couple should not be married, speak now…”
My hands shook and my lips quivered. The world seemed to pause, and I looked back and forth between my friend and his bride. The bride that should have been mine.
And yet, I couldn’t do it. I glanced around the room, thinking of all the money and work put into this occasion. Of their family members, dabbing their eyes with tissues. Of how happy the couple was. Of the love they exchanged between them.
I would find someone else. Surely, surely there would be someone else. I would get over it. I would be fine.
For them, for me, I would just have to be fine.
The world resumed and the service began to continue. But in the corner of my eye, I saw a figure begin to emerge from the crowd.
And that’s when all the madness ensued.
My name was Lacey Greenwald. For the briefest of moments I thought it might change into his. And then, and then that moment ended.
Mark Smythe and I fell for each other in what can only be described as a whirlwind of a romance. He was good and kind and honest. A dream any girl would love to know, to love, to be loved by.
We got engaged just two months ago, and I can’t remember a day since that I wasn’t stressing out. This day needed to be perfect. You only get one shot at it after all.
Mark went away on a business trip a month into planning, but I hardly noticed he was gone. And when he came back, he wasn’t a part of the final touches.
But that was normal. Because what man truly cares about floral arrangements and decorations?
What wasn’t normal, was how he seemed to grow more and more distant. A week before our big day, I called him out on it.
“Just nerves, I guess.”
“You still want to marry me, right?”
“Of course.” He reassured, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
I let it go.
As I walked down the aisle, seeing the tears glistening from his clear eyes, my heart had been finally put to ease.
The ceremony began, I held on to his hands, and the infamous question was asked.
“Does anyone object to this couple marrying? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
I waited in the silence of the moment, a brief and fleeting piece of time. Of course no one would actually object, I thought. That sort of thing only happens in the movies.
Besides, we were clearly perfect for each other in every little way that mattered. Certainly others could see that.
My pastor opened his mouth to speak once more, but closed it all at once. I looked to him to see what was the matter. I then glanced over at Mark, who’s face was as pale as a ghost’s. And he wasn’t looking at me.
No, his attention was to the crowd. As was everyone’s. All the eyes that were supposed to be on me, were on that standing woman.
“I object.” She finally spoke, and I wanted to scream. I didn’t even know who this witch was. This devil who dared to wear a white dress. A lacy, white dress.
It was all a haze, static, after that.
“So what you’re telling me, is you don’t remember anything after that?”
I shake my head. “Only bits and pieces, but nothing definitive. I only know what everyone keeps telling me.”
The detective clicks his pen. “Tell me these bits and pieces then.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “There was a gun. Screams. Blood. Then someone was pulling me away…
“That’s all I know.” He leans in his chair, placing his arms on the table, and frowns.
“Thankfully, no one was hurt. Mark only has a flesh wound. But I’d stay away from him if I were you. He says that woman is his ex. But the DNA test results came back, and she is pregnant with his child.”
I nod, telling him he doesn’t have to worry about anything. The psycho was his ex. From not that long ago. At least, that’s what the ultrasound confirmed. Barely four months pregnant.
“Good, and I’m really sorry, for everything. I guess he deceived us both.” I nod, reaching to touch his hand but pulling back just as quickly as the brief contact sent jolts through my arm.
Was that sparks? No, it was too early for that.
“At least you fulfilled your duties as best man, although I guess not for him. Thank you. For getting me out of there.”
“Anytime.” He smiles a smile that quickly reaches his eyes.
It’s like he’s holding something back from me. And I secretly begin to hope I know what it is.
Writing Prompt: Describe a wedding from three POVs