A Trip Down Memory Lane by Amicia Bianchi (classic fiction .txt) 📕

me but, when I refused to get out of the car, he told me about her soft spot for him. So naturally we went in, I clung to him like a second skin, and he soaked up the attention like a sponge. He loved it and continued to instill a healthy enough fear that had kept me like a clinging vine, never leaving his side, every time she was around until I started to get to know her more for myself.

 

Everything he'd told me was all true, in a worse case scenario, but he'd made it as if she was like that all the time. I'm still a bit timid when I'm around her because I've seen her at her worst and it's a side that I'd rather not see again.

 

"I would kiss you right now if I could," I caught the tip of a finger between my teeth and pulled off the other glove.

 

"Who said you couldn't, you can, we both have lips and the only thing standing between us is a door," he rebutted.

 

"You're supposed to be behaving today," I reminded him, putting the glove aside.

 

"I am,"

 

"Kissing before the ceremony is not behaving," I pointed out.

 

I heard him sigh dramatically and felt him kiss my hand before letting it go, signalling that he wanted to get up. Once we were both on our feet he took my hand in his, "I'll be meeting you at the end of the aisle, my lady," then he bowed over my hand and kissed it again.

 

"Of course, my Lord," I giggled, curtsying.

 

"Who's on guard anyway?" I asked because they'd wanted to make sure we didn't sneak around to see each other, and also to usher people efficiently to their designated areas in the house, they'd put people at posts.

 

"I would think you'd know, there would be nobody else but your staunch sidekick," he chuckled.

 

He let go of my hand and was gone but then, a short while later, I heard running and screaming in the hall.

 

"We've got a groom on the run, code black in section 12," I heard Tonya, my maid of honor, yell into a walkie-talkie, "I repeat we've got a runner in section 12, code black!"

 

Outside of my room was complete chaos for a while, soon after everything got quiet again my dad came to lead me where we were all supposed to line up. Everyone tried to act as if the "code black in section 12" didn't happen and wouldn't make eye contact which almost made me smile, knowing that he'd gotten himself out of being thought to have seen me. Now everyone obviously thought he tried to possibly ditch me at the altar but none were brave enough to tell me about it.

 

The only eyes that I managed to connect with were those of Mike and Tiffany 's grandson, Trey Miller, who we'd picked to be the ring bearer. I winked at him and he smiled back before turning to smirk at my cute little flower girl, Ellen, who blushed almost every possible shade of red. Hoping to find something to look at instead of him, I was an easy distraction when I smiled and waved at her. She offered me a shy smile, knowing that I'd saw what happened; I gave her a thumbs up.

 

Since the moment she first met him she's had the biggest crush on Trey and her friends dared her to confess at my wedding. He was a sweet kid and seemed to like her just as much but both were too shy to say anything to the other about it.

 

"Where's Tonya?" I asked my dad as I looked around once more at everyone. We'd decided to keep the wedding party small so we chose four people each.

 

Susan stood next to Silvia with their shoes off, I'd barely convinced the two to wear heels. Susan had said after her wedding she didn't want to make the same mistake twice as for Silvia, she'd even wore sneakers to prom and swore she would do likewise at her wedding in a few months. Tonya, who was missing, was my maid of honor and the final bride's maid, my sister, who had gone to the bathroom to redo some of her makeup after one of her eyelashes fell off. Of course it was a shame he wasn't here to see it but I'm sure his groom's men will tell him all about it, especially Charlie.

 

The groom's men had gathered in a group off to the side and were joking around. Charlie, who had been cracking jokes, was now teasing Jeff while Joey, the best man, tried to refocus their attention but failed when he found himself laughing with them.

 

Ryan McCoy, Silvia's fiancee, just stood shaking his head at them and chuckling. He is not to be confused with Bryan Milo, her ex, from high school. They met about two years ago when Ryan, one of his coworkers that'd been invited, came to our New year's eve party. Now, in a few months, on New year's eve they'll be getting married.

 

"Ok people, we're ready to- what's going on here?" Tonya came around the corner and stopped as she took in everyone. I knew what she saw, disorganization; groom's men with loosened ties, jackets long forgotten, and sleeves rolled up, all except Joey. As an extremely organized person and self-appointed wedding director, I knew she was horrified by what she was witnessing.

 

"The wedding is supposed to be starting and you all look as if we've already finished! You two put your shoes back on and get ready to walk down the aisle," she turned to Silvia and Susan.

 

"Although I love you guys, if you don't get your ties straightened and your jackets back on... I don't know what I'll do," she warned, warily eyeing the guys.

 

"And you two, why are you just sitting down in the corner, you're the first ones to go out there," she complained. The two preteens, who'd been huddled on a loveseat together, sheepishly scrambled up to get in place.

 

"And where is your sister? I thought I saw her earlier," she asked me, scanning the room again to make sure the rest of them were doing her bidding.

 

Joey snickered as he approached his wife, "she's in the bathroom..." I offered.

 

"Her eyelash fell off," Joey supplied all too eagerly.

 

Tonya sighed, "For God's sake I told her not to go to that "so-called makeup artist", Swansa. It didn't look too bad, right, the only problem was just the eyelash? Because I wasn't really paying attention when I saw her earlier," she asked.

 

"Well let's just say she scared the children," Joey stated and Tonya looked horrified.

 

"Only when her eyelash fell," I corrected, giving him a pointed look.

 

"Why didn't she just do it herself?" Tonya asked, to no one in particular, as she stalked off to go help my sister, "we're starting in five minutes so, when I get back, you should be in your places," she called over her shoulder.

 

A short while later they came back, everyone had did as she'd wanted, and the music started.

 

"Are you ready?" Tonya asked as she took her husband's proffered arm.

 

"Of course," I smiled, pulling my veil over my face.

 

Eventually it was my turn to walk down the aisle with my dad and I squeezed his arm, "let's do this," he smiled down at me as the doors opened for us. Although everyone stood looking at me I stared straight at the mischievous looking guy at the end of the aisle. Even in nice clothes he managed to still look deliciously rogish.

 

When we got to the end Tonya took my bouquet, my father handed me off, and the officiating minister began. As the wedding went on I wondered why I'd been so nervous because with how slow the monotone minister spoke and his tendency to waffle I was nearly asleep on my feet. He seemed bored, someone behind me yawned, and I thought I saw Jeff's head bob before he coughed.

 

I stuck my tongue out, his lip twitch, when I made a funny face, he almost laughed, but whatever he noticed beyond my shoulder, he chortled. He quickly covered it up by clearing his throat. Finally it was time to say our vows, although I nearly missed my cue.

 

"I used to think relationships were like in the fairy tales, girl meets a prince and they fall in love and everything's set for a happily ever after, but in reality it's not that simple at all. For one, I didn't exactly want the fairy tale story, well not as it was, I wanted it my way. I didn't want the sappy softy Prince, I wanted a guy who'd go to the gym two or three times a week... or not but at least look like he does," I smirked at him knowing that he only went to the gym every once and again. Although he ran at least two miles every morning, faithfully, he wasn't that way about going to the gym. He nodded taking the gibe in stride.

 

"That guy who isn't afraid to be weird by saying things like, 'hey you look pulchritudinous today' and no one knows what he's talking about but me," he smiled, probably remembering the time he did that. Everyone had looked at him like he was mad, thinking he'd made up a word.

 

"Or the guy who'll simply go along with me when I start an argument about nothing,"

 

"My most important discrepancy with Prince charming was that he seemed perfect, too perfect. With a guy like that, I can only see myself picking his brain and messing with him, waiting for an unperfect moment. I realized this later, but when I met you I still thought I wanted the fairy tale as it was. I think that's why when we first met and you seemed exactly like that perfect Prince charming it infuriated me, although it didn't take long before I found out the truth. But It made me realize that I didn't really want a fairy tale, I didn't want someone else's story. I wanted my own; the one where the hypothetical Prince can be irritating, underhanded, and ingeniously imperfect, yet that's what I want, because it's my story. And even though you're not a Prince in real life, I'll still take you," he chuckled.

 

"This is dedicated to our parents," he gestured to where they were sitting, looking surprised that he'd called them out. After the scene at our graduation party they'd been adamant about us acting like a "normal couple" for the wedding. A silent declaration that the engagement was ours but the wedding was theirs.

 

"From the moment I first met you until now I've pretty much stuck to the playground boy code by teasing you and annoying you but, despite my puerile approach, you've always been there, with a sarcastic retort, for six years. Starting when you decided to not-really be my girlfriend and as time has gone by you've increasingly become an intrinsic part of my life, my bonheur," he squeezed my hands and I laughed at the French word so I wouldn't cry.

 

"And even though we argue all the time you are the source of my repose and you encourage my blithe nature. I'd like to thank you for being my advocating cheerleader and incessant critic when I need it. And I'd like to stress how you really were pulchritudinous that day -everyday- but it's so much more than that. It's not just physical it's intellectually as well as a beauty that is yours alone," he continued until I couldn't hold it in anymore.

 

"You just had to make me cry," I lightheartedly accused as I let go of his to wipe my tears .

 

"In the beginning I just thought you were cute and it was fun to make you blush but I've since learned to appreciate your quick-witted sarcasm, silent complacency, close rapport, even your antagonistic dissension. I don't think I could ever forget the first time we went to an ice