Page 73 of With Love

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says holding his hand out to me.

Taking it, we continue walking. The dirt path picks up again at the end of the bridge. My eyes follow where the path is leading and I see a bend up ahead.

“Does any of this feel familiar?” Marshall asks.

“Kind of. I feel relaxed. Peaceful. Not on edge. Not nervous. It’s hard to explain. I felt the same way the first time I showered at home and used the soap that you have in there. I recognized it as something that I used to like. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I see what you’re saying. That’s good. And yeah, the soap is daffodil, which is one of your favorite scents. Freesia is your other favorite.”

I smile at him before turning and continuing our walk. We’re just passing the trees near the bend in the path allowing me to see what lies behind them. Looking at the clearing in front of me, I’m transported back to the reason why Marshall brought me here.

There are two long rectangular tables on each side of the aisle. There are 20 people seated at each one. In the middle of the aisle, all the way at the front, there is a little sweetheart table where Marshall and I are sitting, eating our first meal as a married couple. There is a giant wooden trellis standing behind us where we said our vows to one another just a few moments before.

All of a sudden music begins to play and Marshall and I get up and dance, holding each other as if we never wanted to let go. Then, everyone else joins in. I look around and recognize several faces, Bill and Noelle, Courtney, Chef Emiliano. Lock. I recognize some other faces, but I don’t remember who they are. Then, everyone clears away and I see Marshall and Noelle on the dance floor. In the next flash, I see Lock and I dancing. I lose it and tears fall down my face harder than I think they ever have. I am happy. Smiling. Hugging him. He is caressing my upper arm. Whispering things in my ear that make me laugh. About halfway through, Marshall steps in and they shake each other’s hands before moving in and clapping one another on the back.

Something snaps inside of me and I lose it.

“WHY!?” I realize I’m shouting. I fall to my knees and scream again in frustration and anger. “WHY did he have to do this to me? To us?”

Marshall drops down beside me and just as he has his arms around me, I break free of his hold and stand up.

“Here we are, at our wedding and we’re happy, and he’s happy for us! And he walked me down the aisle? That’s something that you only do for someone who you care about! Someone who you consider your family! And that’s what we were! We were family! All of us! And he took everything away! He fucked it all up! AHHHHH!”

I don’t ever remember being this angry and upset before. I grab my hair and pull on it. I walk over to one of the trees and take a punch. I kick it. I scream at it. I do any and every thing that I can to try and get all of the anger out. To give it all away. I want it out of me. I don’t like how it feels and I hate the person who put it there. To hold it in me like that is to give him power over me and that is something that will never happen again.

All of a sudden I feel something wrap around me and squeeze until I am no longer able to move. I kick and scream against whatever it is that’s trying to hold me down and the grip on me eases up a little bit. Then, I hear Marshall whispering in my ear telling me to let out. To let it all go. That he’s got me and he won’t ever let go. I continue screaming, but I’m beginning to lose my bravado. My screams turn into sobs. The rage in me is beginning to calm. My muscles get weak and I can feel myself being picked up and carried somewhere. My sobs grow quiet until all that’s left is a slight stuttering intake of breath, followed by my eyes closing and my world turning black.

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