When I leave this time, it's for good

August 9, 2014

I’m pushed to the front of the horde of girls; the youngest is probably ten and the oldest.. is me? No, Rose is definitely older than me, by a few months that she hasn’t let me forget about since we met twelve years ago.

I take a second to fling off my heels. There’s no way I can jump in heels.

Lauren lifts up the skirt of her ball-gown just enough so she can walk over to stand in front of us. She smiles and I swear she’s never looked more beautiful and more in love. The next second, she’s turning around, bouquet in hand, so her back is towards us.

“One,” she begins counting. “Two..”

A week earlier

My alarm goes off at 3:30 a.m.

I let out a groan, flopping over and swiping the snooze button. I’m at peace for ten beautiful seconds until a small knock at my door rudely shoves me into full consciousness.

“Hey Jess. Let’s go.”

I push myself up on one arm, reaching for my phone charger, yanking it from the wall, detaching my phone and shoving the chord into my pillow case. Swinging my legs over the side of my bed takes all my energy and determination, so I allow myself a brief moment of rest.

“Jess. Come on.”

She’s back to remind me again. She is so anxious to get on the road and I’m procrastinating with everything I’ve got.

I grumble as I stand up, joints popping, and slip on my flip flops. I grab Lola and hug my pillow to my chest before following Sadie down the stairs, out the front door. Some groggy part of me recognizes that it’s still so frikkin dark outside, but the stars have never looked so bright.

I’m temporarily blinded as Sadie unlocks the already-packed car, lights flashing as she walks over to open her door. Still half asleep, I pull my door open, plopping unceremoniously into the seat. Sadie hasn’t even started the car before my pillow is propped against the window. The engine starting is the last thing I hear before drifting into a few more hours of relief.

When I wake, the clock reads 6:30 a.m., only a slightly more reasonable hour. We are pulling into a gas station boasting to have Elko’s cheapest gas prices.

We are making really good time. The thought does not comfort me.

“Your turn to drive.” Sadie nudges me.

 I turn to protest, but then I catch sight of her blood-shot eyes framed with big dark bags, and I bite back my words.

We both get out—it’s light out and already 70 degrees—and she hands me her card as I pass her, to fill up our tank. I stall as long as I can, but filling a gas tank can only be stretched out for so long. It is all too soon for my taste when I pull out of the gas station, merge back onto the freeway.

The motions are so automatic that I let my mind wander. Sadie's iPod is on shuffle, playing a gentle melody in the background of my thoughts.

I’ve known all summer that I’d have to go back. I’m still not prepared. I don’t want to go back to perpetually cloudy skies. I don’t want to go back to gang-ville, where I can’t even go jogging alone without fearing for my life. I don’t want to go back to a memory of you around every corner, some good, some bad, all painful. I can’t go back. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

My beautiful sister is getting married to a wonderful man in a terrible city. I will go back, for her. It’s only a week, I keep telling myself. After this, I never have to go back.

“Three!”

The bouquet flies into the air and our swarm of bodies collectively jumps for it. I’m literally the average height for an American woman, but I must have some kind of fight left in me for this, because I snatch the bouquet fiercely out of the air, hair whipping around my face. I land on my feet, hard.

“Yes!”

I raise my first into the air, the bouquet still clutched in it, and everyone cheers. Just as quickly, I realize what I have just done. Even with the entire wedding reception watching me, I can't help your face flashing briefly through my mind. You are the only boy I ever thought I could marry. I wring out my hand once, bringing myself back to the moment.

“Nooo,” I protest, turning to the crowd. “If I’m getting married next, that is unfortunate for y’all! It’s gonna be a while!”

Everyone chuckles and then the photographer is whisking me off to take pictures: the bride and the bride-to-be.