The Long Way Home

Of course that moment never came.



Brandi spritzed me with perfume, her eyes were haunted. The room was silent until my mother and Mrs. Bernard finally left. It was more like a funeral than like a wedding.



"Oh God, J.D., I am so sorry."



I looked at Diane, "We took a little ecstasy, we used to do that all the time. Stop."



Helena wiped her eyes, "Brandi told us your dad is blackmailing you to marry him, with mental ward and rehab."



Angela crossed her arms, "Take rehab, I went when we were nineteen. It wasn’t so bad."



I snorted, "No. I'll be cut off completely, no money. My father has full control over every dime I have. He threatened me with hiding drugs in Mike's house and getting him fired. He threatened me with rehab and the mental ward. He has Dr. Michaels on his side. I don’t stand a chance." I looked at myself in my lace wedding dress, "Phil is the best option. At least he thinks he drove me to try to take my life. His whole family is disturbingly grateful I am alive. I'll have them all under my thumb the rest of my life." I saw the cold look in my eyes in the mirror. For a second, I was my father's daughter. Eventually, I would be high 24/7 and become my mother. I wondered if somewhere out there in the world, my mother had a Mike. Someone she loved more than anything but married my father out of duty.



Brandi started to cry again. She had been a mess all week.



We all drank a fourth mimosa and straightened our gowns.



The wedding planners came bustling in, "Everyone ready?"



I nodded as the lace was placed over my face. Under the veil, I would swear I could see things clearer. I slipped a blue pill into my mouth and nodded at the image in my mind; I would become my father. I would rule the Bernard family with guilt and misery because I hated my life and the choice I was forced to take.



We walked out into the foyer where the groomsmen and my father waited for us. The dead look in his eyes was enough to force the decision I was about to make. One day I would be dead inside like him. Eventually, the numb would take over everything.



The music started. I hadn’t noticed the church or the decorations or the people there. I didn’t give two shits about a single thing, beyond the crack in my heart.



The girls all walked down the aisle before us. As we arrived at the doors, the music changed and the room stood. The faces of the crowd were unsure. They didn’t know what to expect or how to act. The ones who knew the truth were devastated, and the ones who assumed I was driven to a suicide attempt were scared. Some judged, I could see that on their faces. The veil hid the fact I was scrutinizing them.



My father passed me over to Phil. No one spoke or kissed or cried, except Brandi.



Everyone else was still, like a calm before a storm.



My heart took that moment to panic. Like it was beating in one last desperate attempt to wake me from the coma I was stuck in.



The brave girl who had driven to South Carolina was dying inside of me. She was screaming and clawing and trying to get out, but the cloud of heavy shit smothered her. That, and the blue pills that blocked her out.



Phil took me in his arms and led me to the priest.



We stood there, listening to the man speak, but I heard nothing. Nothing, apart from my beating heart.



Then I heard something unbelievable.



"Jack! Goddamn, Jack, you can't marry him. You love me and I love you."



I turned to see a very drunk Mike France staggering up the aisle. He was in a tee shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He looked like he had been living in them.



I gasped, "France." I blinked my eyes several times and shook my head. He was my kryptonite. I couldn’t see him without tears forming. He made me alive again. The haze of the blue pill was starting though.



He pointed, "Baby, I have something I want to show you. Well, I have a few things, but the main one is your dream come true. Come on."



My father stood, "Leave now. She didn’t choose you. She won't."



Brandi heaved a loud sob and Phil gripped me tighter, holding me there. My father walked to France. He said things in hushed tones but Mike ignored him, "Jack, come on."



I almost took a step towards him but Phil moved before I could. He walked up, throwing a punch.



Mike took the hit and then jumped Phil. Several guys jumped in, making a pile of people in suits thrashing in the middle of the aisle. The rich friends and family sat, frozen still.



My mother never budged. My sister sobbed. My friends whispered traitorous acts like "RUN!"



But I remained frozen, as Mike beat them all. He roared as he shot from the sea of tuxes and preppy assholes. None stood a chance with him. He stood, leaving them on the ground and pointed at me. His voice cracked, "Let's go."



My feet wouldn’t move. I was frozen.



He looked defeated, "Why? Why are you so scared? Come on."



I opened my mouth to say something, but my voice was gone. He turned, shaking his head and staggered out of the church.



The rest of us stood there, still and silent.



Phil got up, humiliated and bleeding from the lip. He gave me a look and walked from the church after Mike.



My chest, rising and falling, was the only thing that told me I was alive. Everything else felt like it was gone. No sense or voice or spine.



Finally, it hit all at once. I grabbed my sister's hand and ran down the aisle.



"STOP!"



I froze, looking back at my father. His face was seven different shades of red. He snarled, "You will get nothing."



I shook my head, "I already have nothing, Father. What can you take from me? I have nothing—no pride, no respect, no love, no feelings. Keep your money, I see what it's done to you. I don’t want that."



Muriel stepped from the seats, grabbing my hands, "Go find your love. If you need anything, let me know." My mother watched us with burning hate in her eyes.



She kissed my cheek. I nodded and turned and ran, holding the hand of my sister. Phil was gone, Mike was gone. There was nothing but a ton of cars and silence. As we jumped into a limo, I shouted, "Grand Central Station. FAST!"



I pulled my cell phone from the waist of my panties and dialed.



I ended the call when I got voicemail.



The driver couldn’t go fast enough.



Brandi sobbed, "I'm so sorry. I should have helped more."



I kissed her, "Stop. Just stop. I know."



She looked at me, and for the first time, I really saw her, "We don’t need them, J.D.—Mom and Dad are fucking insane. Let them have each other."



I kissed her again, "We have each other."



The limo stopped and I dashed from the car. I sprinted inside of the train station but he wasn’t there. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy as I spun in a circle, desperate to see him.



I sat on a bench, in case we had beaten him there.



People looked at me like I was crazy. My sister came and sat next to me, "I checked the washrooms, I don’t think he's here."



I dialed again but he didn’t answer.



I looked like a jilted bride. It made me laugh. Not a normal laugh but a crazed one.



We walked back to the limo. I wrote down the addresses of the next five places. We drove for hours and I grew more desperate at each place he wasn’t at.



"The Empire State Building."



The driver gave me a shitty look and turned back to the city. When we got there, we ran inside. Brandi paid the sixty dollars for us both as I pressed the elevator. Brandi gave me a weird look, "Why here?"



I shook my head, "I made him watch Love Affair with Irene Dunne and Charles Boyer and the remake An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. He hated them but suffered through them for me."



The elevator stopped at the observatory deck. We stepped out onto it, getting a breeze and both looked around. There were other people and a saxophone player. She went right and I went left. I ran, imagining I would see him any second.



I met her at the sax player. She was staring at the case. I looked down, seeing the pink sash with bachelorette on it.



"He came here." I picked it out of the case.



The guy stopped playing, "Dude, Mike France gave that to me. He signed it."



I bit my lip, "I'll give you a thousand dollars for it."



He cocked an eyebrow, "Two."



I looked at Brandi. She fished cash from her purse and slapped it into his hand. I looked at his signature and tried not to cry.



Brandi and I walked back to the elevators. I felt sick, "He hates heights. He came here to show me he would do anything for me—even the 86th floor of the Empire State Building."



She pressed the button on the wall, "It's not like you won't find him. You will. He's got to be at one of his houses. He only has two here. There must be somewhere he would have gone."



I sighed, "South Carolina." I dialed the number again but he didn’t answer.



"It's fucking 2013; how is it this hard to find someone?"



She snorted, "We can pay someone and track him like a rabbit."



I dialed the other number I didn’t want to.



He answered, "I'm sorry, Jacqueline."



I nodded and followed my sister back to the limo, "Me too. Can I meet you at the house? No parents, just me and you?"



"No. I have all of your things being boxed now and they will be shipped to your mother and father’s. Your father is here doing it."



I pressed my lips together, "Okay."



"I put five hundred thousand into the account you and I share. He doesn’t know. Take the ring back to Harry Winston. Brandi has the receipt for it. I gave it to her in case. Between those two things you should be okay until he calms down. I'll close the account in a couple days so be sure to get it."



I nodded, "Thanks."



"Of course. You have to know, how sorry I am."



The lump in my throat was huge, "I know. Me too. I'm sorry about Mike and my parents."



"Take care." He hung up the phone.



I looked down at the ring on my hand.



We walked back but the limo was gone.