The Day He Said I Do

Ashleigh Illingworth writes The Day He Said I Do, a sombre story about watching your dreams fade before your eyes.

She sits at the table across the room, the world passing her by. Her stunning, satin, lavender dress, draping over her statuesque figure. People thriving in conversations that she couldn’t be further away from. The guests are walking past, dancing, enjoying the festivities, but she seems to be floating in space. Travelling to another planet, maybe even another universe.

The further the night gets, the more distant and isolated she seems. By now, everyone at her table has left -- not that she was talking to anyone in the first place. Time continues to pass, conversation seems to flow, but she sits like a doll through it all. Her eyes never leave the glowing newlyweds, as they shine everywhere they go. Her eyes, shimmering like lip gloss, follow the newlyweds as they approach the dance floor. The first slow song of the night seems to calm the crowd and draw all attention to the couple in the spotlight. As they said in their vows, it was the first song they ever danced together to, and now it is also their first as husband and wife. The music fills the air as the pastel rain of confetti floats to the floor, making a paper rug on the hard wooden boards.

She still can’t stop staring. Empty plates lay abandoned on the table, the scraps all that remain, just waiting to be taken away. The hydrangeas placed directly in the centre of the table droop with this woman, her neck curling with the stems of the flowers. Hydrangeas are the bride’s favourite; she couldn’t stop talking about wanting them everywhere. She even arranged them into her bouquet. The hydrangeas sit there, beaming with life, at least when compared to the ghost of the woman seated next to them. The outstretched blossoms crawl out of the vase, as if they’re trying to escape the table. As if they were trying to leave this girl and follow all the other names behind the place cards at her table.

The glassy filter over the woman’s eyes only grows cloudier as the night goes on. By the last dance, she almost looks like a shell, her slumped back, her hook-like stature that has sunk into the chair. She and that seat have become one. Her eyes would follow the groom, blocking out the rest of the world. The world of the wedding has been left behind, maybe even leaving her behind. No one has checked up on her; maybe no one knows her. She fades into the walls, blending in so well she’d have to scream her heart out for any shred of attention. Her empty screams fill the room with a neglected heartache as she dissolves from the world of the wedding.

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I can feel judgement's eyes lying on me. I’m bringing the mood down. No one has talked to me, as if I’ve been put on trial but have no chance to plead my case. I’m already guilty. Benny and I had been friends since we were 7 years old -- best friends. Since the day we met in primary school, we had to do everything together. Those were the best years of my life. He’d sweep me away from the gruelling reality, like we were going to Terabithia. Whether we’d be playing pirates or Mario, having movie nights or going to our favourite bowling spot next to the arcade, it was always us against the world. He’d always ask me to come over for playdates after school, and as the years would pass, I always hoped he’d ask me on a real date. He’d always hit me with those beautiful, wide, ocean-blue eyes, curious to know every detail he could about everything he sees.

I watch him glide across the dance floor with his new wife; so graceful, like swans on a lake. They remind me of that scene at the end of Sleeping Beauty when they’re dancing in the sky. The carpet of confetti around their feet makes soft blooms of clouds as they step-in-two, and when the spotlight hits them ever so gently, highlighting all her soft but defining features, she really does look like Sleeping Beauty. My teeth can’t help but grit whenever I think about it, but they do make a beautiful couple.

Maybe I was crazy for thinking one day that would be me, the one in the wedding dress. We’d be dancing in the spotlight, getting dizzy from spinning around, twirling in our kitchen when I can’t sleep at night. I had imagined our life together long before he got down on one knee in front of Nancy. I wonder what it’s like for her, to have no doubt, to be fearless. She’d do anything that involved the outdoors, sky diving, rock climbing, hiking, anything. He was always too much of a chicken for any real adventure, but we were chickens together. We’d spend all those nights doing everything we could to stay away from the rest of the world.

As he spins her in the glow of the pale pink spotlight, the lace of her dress wraps her figure and says congratulations. I always thought they were too different to make it work, and until they said “I do”, I still had hope for us. I never thought this day would come, but now I’m sitting in its sorrows. They take up the entire dancefloor. The first dance turns to the second, then the third, then the fifteenth. I don’t want to sit here watching them the whole night, but if I do so much as open my mouth, it would end in a scene. There would be tears on one side or the other. I am stuck in this limbo. I can’t make this beautiful bride drown her face in mascara tears. I can’t make the day about Benny and me. I can’t just scream.

I wish I didn’t love him, but I can’t chase someone who is running away. I know I have to leave them be, but how long will it take for the happy image of them to leave me?