Chapter 2
Emerson
Riding down the elevator, my best friend Tina looks at me with a concerned expression.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Like I have a choice," I say, stepping out when the doors open.
Tina attempts to say something back, but my father, of course, is waiting for us as soon as we exit the elevator.
"Took long enough," he says gruffly. His "secretary," Marilou, stands close behind him as he demands, "What's with the face?"
"What face?" I say, hearing Tina behind me quietly let out an annoyed sigh.
"You're not still pouting about this wedding, are you?" He says grumpily, scanning the lobby for my fiance. I don't bother responding, but that doesn't stop him from adding, "You're a single, fat older woman. You should be grateful that someone like Steve is willing to marry you."
Tina's body stiffens behind me, and I position my body to block her from chewing out my father. Or maybe she is about to attack Marilou, who is giggling at my father's slight against me.
"There's Steve and his mother. Come on," my father demands, and I follow behind him with Tina trailing after me, muttering something about how this is all wrong.
Dinner is torture.
After the wedding rehearsal at the church, we meet at the Driftwood Room for the rehearsal dinner.
The food is exquisite, so I do my best to focus on it and not on the people surrounding the table.
Only Tina is truly on my side here. I mean, there's Steve, and he can be decent to me, but I don't consider him on my side.
When the dessert comes, a delectable chocolate mousse, I close my eyes at the first spoonful, savoring the creamy sweetness. When I open them, I see my father looking at me across the table.
"That should be enough the night before your wedding, don't you think so, Porky?" He says, giving me what he probably considers a playful grin.
Marilou quietly twitters behind her hand, but Steve bursts out with a loud laugh.
Standing up, I toss my cloth napkin over the dessert I wish I could finish.
"I'm going back to the hotel," I announce, turning on my heel and striding out of the room.
I can hear Tina following me from behind. Outside, I look around the parking lot through tears.
"I already ordered us a rideshare," my friend says, looping her arm into mine. "It's one minute away."
I look over at her, and her face falls.
"Oh, baby," she says, wiping the tears that are now falling down my cheeks, then opens her mouth to continue, but I shake my head.
"I'm not ready to talk," I whisper.
When we are back inside our shared hotel room, I rush into the bathroom and take a steaming hot shower, bawling my eyes out.
I don't know what the fuck I am doing, but I definitely feel trapped.
And without the ability to change my current life trajectory.
When I finally come out of the steamy bathroom wrapped in a towel, Tina looks up at me from her bed and pauses the show she is watching.
"You need to call this off," she says flatly.
"How am I to call it off? The wedding is literally tomorrow."
"You fucking deserve better than this," Tina says, anger clear in her voice.
I slip on underwear underneath my towel.
"My father certainly doesn't think so."
"Fuck your father. He's an asshole."
I don't argue. No truer words have been said.
After I wash up, I slip into pajamas and crawl under my bed's covers.
"I just need to get some sleep."
"Alright, babe. Well, I'm here for you in the morning. Okay?"
In my elaborate gown, I'm surrounded by my wedding party, made up of my best friend and a bunch of Steve's cousins.
His mother insisted that every single cousin be included, so that only allowed me to pick out my maid of honor.
At the time, I thought I was being generous and flexible, but now I can see I was just a doormat for that woman to wipe her feet on.
In the church, the processional begins to play, and one by one, the bridesmaids walk slowly down the aisle. When it's time for the maid of honor, Tina turns to me and gives my hand a squeeze.
"Remember, I support you no matter what your choices are," she says, winking at me, and then turns to head down the aisle.
Dad and I stand out of sight, waiting for the bridal processional to begin. He clears his throat and gives me a firm nod.
"You look very suitable today," he says, and I almost burst out laughing. Believe it or not, that's a compliment coming from my father.
Lohengrin starts, and my father offers me his bent elbow. I slip my hand through it, and he steps forward, but my body feels rooted to the ground.
"Emerson," he hisses under his breath.
He attempts to walk forward again, but my feet are glued to the floor.
"Emerson," he says with a loud, firm voice.
Looking up into his dark eyes, I shake my head. Yanking my arm away from him, I spin on my heel and bolt out the church door.