Jilted

It was a picture perfect wedding, until they reached the “I do’s”.

Scott Gese
Oct 22 · 3 min read
Image source: Unsplash

The preacher was growing nervous. His work here had come to an abrupt end as the glorious occasion he presided over had quickly deteriorated.

He held a growing concern for the visitors in his church. He was alarmed enough to pull his phone from his back pocket. This had never happened to him before. Now he was ready to dial 911 in case the situation got physical.

The groom stood at the alter holding a crushed bouquet of roses and wild flowers. The bride had shoved them into his gut before storming up the very isle she had so confidently walked down only minutes before.

She flung the door open and stepped into the warm afternoon sun. She sat down on one of the cold granite steps of the old church. Upset and disappointed, she began to cry.

Her bridesmaids, like chicks following a mother hen, were on her heels. They hugged her, consoled her and wiped away her tears along with the mascara that streamed down her face. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. The most important day of her life. Her dream day, had turned into a nightmare.

Inside, the brides family was furious. They started hurling threats and insults toward the grooms side of the isle. The grooms family found themselves on the defensive and in a state of mild shock. The grooms friends on the other hand were celebrating. They gave each other high fives and bragged on how the groom had proven himself to be a confirmed bachelor and still “one of them”.

They began making their way to the alter to congratulate their friend on his bravery and what they considered to be a very wise choice.

One of the friends flipped off the brides father after the man spewed an insulting remark in his direction. The offensive gesture caused the man to come unglued. In a rage, he went after the guy. That’s when the escalating mayhem took an ugly turn for the worst. The preachers premonition had come to pass.

During the commotion, the groom faded into the background and slipped out a side door. He walked to the front of the church where he found his bride still sitting on the steps. Her bridesmaids took offense to him being there and stepped between the two. The bride asked them to step aside so she could see his face. He was in tears as he held out the crumpled bouquet in her direction.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” was all he could manage to get out.

Her eyes searched him as she tried to read his sincerity. It was a futile attempt. He was a complicated man. They looked deep into each others eyes hoping to find a remnant. A single spark, an ember, a flicker, something.

Through the tears, the sorrow and the wreckage of the day it was obvious. There was still something there. It would need to be rekindled. She accepted the apology and the offering of flowers.

“We need to talk.” Her voice firm and confident.

He easily agreed with a slight nod of the head.

As they walked off in silence, several squad cars pulled up in front of the church.

© Copyright 2018 by Scott A. Gese All Rights Reserved.

Fictitious

Short fiction by Scott Gese. I make stuff up.

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