#lifestooshort

 a few years ago i started to write short stories. First, because I was in school and it was required, and second, it helped me to escape sometimes. So I hope you enjoy. Feel free to let me know what you think.

May 09, 2011

Change of Plans

           Sitting in a backroom of this church, a feeling of unease settles into the pit of my stomach. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, the moment every young ladies dreamt about. But it’s not. Over the last few weeks, this so call dream turned for the worst and became a nightmare no one person could have planned for. Looking out of the window, surrounded by creeping willows, are service people hauling arrangements of white orchids, white and yellow roses, and yellow chrysanthemums into the church. The day with its overcast sky and haze of an atmosphere seemed a bit off.

           In the distance, leaning against one of the willow trees, is a man dress in a black suit. He looks haggard and in pain. His hair seems a little messy but his attractiveness never changes. He never fails to make my heart skip a beat. Placing my hand against the frosted windowpane, I feel the need to take away whatever is paining him. As I watch him pull out yet another cigarette, I can see his hands shaking as he‘s trying to light his cigarette. Is he nervous? Can he not perform in front of the mass forming inside today? But this day is not focused on him. It is on me. It has always been on me.

           Always parading around for my family‘s sake, life has never been a fairy tale most would have pictured for a girl like me. Growing up as a “perfect child” in the eyes of those who do not see beyond a façade embedded in me, I lost part of who I truly was. Always being criticized by one person or another.

Wear this it is flattering.

Do not eat that it will go straight to your hips!

We do not associate with those out of our class!

           That last one really got to me. I have always imagined people marrying for love, but like most of my so call friends would say, “Love doesn’t pay the bills! We don’t just marry for money, we marry for status and pedigree!” And if you marry out of your social class, you are basically shunned from our circle. Excommunicated!

           A noise from the hall drags my attention away from my thoughts. I can hear my mother getting emotional again. Screaming at someone about something being out of place. I can just hear her saying, “I don’t pay you to think I pay you to do what I say!” I feel sorry for her current passenger on the train ride to hell. And I’m the one who grew up with her. Well technically it was the nanny, but I still dealt with her. Occasionally. This is about the third time this morning that she had broken down and started yelling at someone for absolutely no apparent reason. But then again, I guess that’s just her way of dealing with something she can no longer control. She can’t talk to me anymore. She hasn’t said one word or looked at me all day. She’s avoiding the inevitable, no doubt ashamed of what I have become.

           Drifting closer to the door leading to the hall, I hear music from inside the church playing. I hear the softness of violins and harps soothing the audience, waiting for the service to begin. Peeking out of the door, I hear voices everywhere. Two men are arguing about the man from outside. Asking each other where he could have gone now. Finally someone tells them that he is just outside, trying to get some air and that settles the argument. The look that passes between the two men suddenly turns into regret and shame.

           Attempting to slip out of the room, I head down the long hall that held other rooms. A few offices to the left, a few classes for Sunday school to the right, and some for counseling or just preparations like today. Gliding into the kitchen of the church, I hear some of the older women gossiping about the events that had recently taken place these past few weeks. And of course their main topic was me.

How could she have done this to her family?

What about the man she said yes to? What will happen to him?

What about the note she wrote? Do you know what she said?

She has always been selfish!

           I really didn’t need to be in this kitchen, with these old thorny women who had nothing better to do than talk about me. As I turned to leave, I stopped because someone brought up the man from outside. I had to know what they were going to say about him. But I already knew what she would say as her eyes became kind and her voice reverent. That even though he loved me and I him, it was foolish to think we would survive in a society I was rooted in. It was a Titanic moment.

           A knock sounded at the door, as a young man came in to tell everyone in the kitchen that the service was about to begin. Sighing, the older women look gravely at each other. No doubt thinking that I had made a mistake in life. Well, there was no going back. Things happened for a reason, mistake or not, we all end up with consequences that we rarely see coming.

           Waiting for everyone to be seated, I look out into the audience from one of the side doors. The church was beautiful. And I am not just saying that because it was all for me, it truly was. The flowers cascading down the aisles of this historical church in white and yellow assortments. The pillars all adorned with florescent lights wrapped in tulle. The stage with its mahogany centerpiece adorned with even more flowers. I noticed that the church was filled with a lot of people I thought would not come, but they did. Even after all was said and done, I was truly loved. Or it could be all for show. Either way, I was glad to see friends and family I thought for sure would not make it.

           As I began walking down the aisle, I can hear someone say how beautiful everything was, I see some people wiping tears from their eyes, and see that both of my parents were as stiff as nails. Shifting my eyes to the front of the church, I see the man from outside standing in front of all those present today, holding a piece a paper. He isn’t looking into the audience. He isn’t looking down at me. He just looks above my head through the stained glass window of a dove flying free into the golden sun. As he closes his eyes shut at my approach, I hear him whisper “Your free now…” Placing my hand slightly on his cheek, he opens his eyes, and it is then that I see how red and puffy his eyes are. Quietly he hiccups as if trying to grasp a breath.

           Shocked by the sorrow in his eyes, I step back a little from him, not knowing what was happening. Looking past him I see that great mahogany centerpiece in the middle of the stage. Creeping closer to it, I see a beautiful face. I see me. And then I hear out of his beautifully haunted mouth, “Today we are here, in celebration of a life cut too short…”