Meredith

I’m not sure coming today was the right decision. Allow me to rephrase. I am quite sure coming today was the wrong decision. But I’m sure if my parents told me 'to use today as a break from life’s drama’ or 'what a good excuse it would be to get out of the house' one more fucking time, I would have lost my mind. How did I not remember how nosy and overbearing they can be before I moved home? Good question. Besides, it’s not true and they know it. I have a job. Okay, working two days a week in the office at the farm supply store may not seem all that impressive, but apart from tax season, the demand for corporate accountants around here is nil. So anyway, here I am. Against my better judgement.

I will concede that focusing on something happy and hopeful like a wedding, even if it’s only for a few hours, is a pleasant change of pace from the last few months... What’s the problem, then? Well, I have history with the Wilde clan. Specifically, with the handsome groomsman standing up front. And, if the rumors about him are true, he is as cocky as he ever was. What happened between us was so long ago it might qualify as ancient history, but my feelings for him run deep. He haunted my dreams through college—and my marriage—a thought I remain uncomfortable admitting, even to myself. Feelings no one ever need know about, least of all, him. But then, why would he? I had one rule about coming today.

Avoid Gabe Wilde.

When Leo made an ass of himself by sexually assaulting the bride, I thought things were headed for disaster. But now? Seeing true joy on Chet’s face, I’m glad I came. Even if my life is a wreck, what a good reminder that there’s always hope.

The official takes a hand from the bride and groom and pronounces, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Chet Wilde.” Everyone stands to clap and cheer, and someone, I can’t make out who from my crappy, corner seat on the far side of the room, lets out an ear-piercing whistle. That’s just the inane sort of thing Hank Wilde used to do. If it was poorly timed, or generally in bad taste, he was the man for the job. At least, way back when. I’m sure he’s grown out of that by now.

Chet takes his wife’s hand in his own and they step down, beginning their walk towards the back, a symbol of the start of their new lives together. So. Sweet. When Christy rubs her belly, I realize how envious I am. Happily In love, married, and pregnant—all the things I’ve always wanted, but somehow haven’t found for myself. Yet.

The couple barely makes it ten steps when my fantasy of life in her shoes is interrupted. I, along with everyone else, gasp at the sight of Chet and Christy stopped in front of Leo. Is he holding up a flask? I can’t make out what Leo says from here, but Chet is not amused. Apparently, neither is the girl he's with, because she smacks him across the cheek and storms out.

O-M-F-G.

Chet pulls Leo to his feet by the collar of his jacket. Right up and out of the pew, as if he’s nothing more than a toy. Can this really be happening? Two, once in a lifetime, you wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t see it with your own eyes events, in one wedding? This is so not part of my fantasy-life-in-her-shoes. God only knows how she’s feeling.

My view of the action is obstructed by the backs and shoulders of everyone in front of me, also scrambling for a clear path to gawk at the spectacle. My solution? Well, in complete disregard for that one rule I had for the day, I climb up on the pew in search of a better view. But when you’re lucky to measure five feet two in your tallest shoes, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. You know?

The room is too noisy—and I’m too far away—to make out what is being said, but I do spot their mother, little Marie Wilde, pushing against the crowd to get to her boys. I look back at Chet and Leo and…if I didn’t know better, I’d think Leo is about to take a swing at Chet. Oh my God! He just did!

If I know anything about this family, there’s no chance this ends with civil conversation now. The Wilde’s aren’t fighters, per se, but Gabe used to say, in a family of six strong-willed boys, standing their ground was an everyday part of life.

Chet responds swiftly. He releases Leo with his right hand, draws back and bashes his youngest brother in the jaw. Leo staggers, his head wobbling on his shoulders but he doesn’t fall. “Holy shit.” I don’t mean to curse out loud, but that punch landed with so much force, the sound echoed off the walls. How is Leo even conscious right now?

The audience gasps in horror and then falls quiet.

Gabe, Hank, Jack, and Frank all rush in to help, with Gabe physically placing himself between his brothers, while Jack restrains Chet.

Gabe shouts at Leo to calm down, but as soon as Gabe turns to Chet, the inebriated fool throws a wild punch in their direction. Unfortunately, Gabe's standing in the line of fire and Leo's fist grazes his jaw.

Chet wrestles an arm free and surges forward with another punch of his own, which also strikes Gabe in the face, and knocks him out cold.

Gabe!

Hank’s eyes are as big as saucers as he hooks his arms under Gabe and drags him into the hall. Jack quickly checks on Chet and Christy before he and Frank restrain Leo and escort him out. Chet places a hand on the belly of his bride, checking that she is alright. Then he wipes his brow and bellows in his deep, gravelly voice, “Show’s over.” And that’s it. Without another word, he swoops Christy up and carries her out through a side door, leaving the room awash in chatter and gossip. This will be the talk of the county by tomorrow morning. That’s one thing I never missed about a small town. For sure.

Visibly upset, Marie clambers onto a pew to get everyone's attention. As the only other person standing on a pew at this point, I recognize my cue to slink back into the crowd. I’m a fly on the wall…nothing more. The goal is to make it through the evening without being noticed. Remember?

“Excuse me. Excuse me, everyone. Can I have your attention?” Marie asks with a strained voice. As people take notice, a hush settles back over the room. “Please forgive our…our little…err…family indiscretion.” The weight of her words forces her to pause while she chokes back a sob. “If you’ll please make your way outside to the reception area in the back, there are refreshments and snacks. Things may be delayed just a bit as we get all of this sorted out. Thank you again for joining us today.” Marie carefully steps down, retrieves a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress, and bursts into tears.

That poor, sweet woman. She has never shown me anything but kindness and now none of her family is around to comfort her. Reluctantly, I make my way over to Marie, where she sits alone in a pew with her head in her hands. Ugh, I know I’ll regret this, but I can’t stand to see her this way.

I have no clue what you say in a situation like this, so I don’t say a word. I sit beside her and wrap my arm around her shoulder. She sighs and leans in, never looking up to see who's offering the comfort. We sit like that until everyone else has gone. I look around the room, trying to decide if I should say something (and if so, what) and am surprised by how much larger the space seems now. Like it did when I was a kid. Funny, how that works.

When Marie lifts her face to blow her nose, she cocks her head and looks me over, not recognizing me at first. “Oh, my heavens. Meredith? Meredith Still, is that you?” Until a few weeks ago, that wasn’t me. It hadn’t been for years. But when the divorce finalized, the judge gave me the option and I chose to take my parents’ name again, rather than keep Jeff’s. The thought of carrying his name one second longer than I had to raises my blood pressure to an unhealthy level.

I wanted kids, and a house, and a plan for retirement. I knew from the beginning Jeff wasn’t ready, or willing, to grow up and forgo nights at the bar with his buddies—or his stupid fucking gaming sessions—both of which inevitably ran well into the morning. It’s not that I minded him carving out guy time. I minded the phone calls to pick him up from the bar and being a taxi service for his frat buddies on the way home. I minded the excuses I had to make for being late to work. And after all of that, I minded coming home and having to clean up the living room from his ‘game sesh.’ Jesus Jeff, by the time you’re in your thirties, you’re too old to refer to anything as a ‘sesh.’

But the straw that broke this camel’s back was the night his drunk shenanigans turned violent. Yeah Jeff, it was obviously my fault you got drunk and bet money we didn’t have on a hockey game. He didn’t put his hands on me that night, but throwing our china against the wall while screaming obscenities was all the warning I needed. It was bad enough to be stuck in a marriage with a man I didn’t love (much less respect). No way was I sticking around to be treated like one of those plates.

“Yep, Marie, it’s me. Are you feeling better?” I ask as I rub concentric circles on her back.

Marie wipes her tears. “Well honey, I am now, ” she says with a half-smile. “Did you come into town for the wedding?”

“Not exactly. Technically, I’ve moved back in with my folks. You know, just for a little while.”

“Oh. Well, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you came today, dear.” Marie pats my leg. “Have you seen Gabriel, yet?”

Oh God. Yes, I’ve seen Gabe. Today, standing up at the altar, looking hot as ever…and almost every night in my dreams since we were kids.