Chapter Three: WYD

Six Months Earlier. . . . . 

 All day, I was looking for a sign about if today should even happen.  I watched the news to see the weather. Clear skies and sunny.  While I was in the limo, it seemed as if everyone went on vacation.  Or decided to not leave the comforts of their homes.  The streets were clear.  We were even getting nothing but green lights the whole way to the church.  Soon as I got in, much to my surprise, everyone was dressed and ready to go.  Even my style team– which was just my cousin who does make-up part-time at the mall– was waiting for me!  Everything was going exactly how we planned it.  Our wedding day would go off without a hitch.    Maybe it was the nerves or I was just sabotaging my own wedding, but I couldn’t keep still.  My cousin was growing frustrated by the minute.

“Relax.  I can’t put this eyeliner on you if you keep moving your eyes.”  she said.  She shot me a look that said that if she happened to stab me in the eye with this pencil, then I’d better not  say anything to her.   “What is it that you keep looking for?”

“Probably her phone.” my best friend and Maid of Honor, Patrice said over my shoulder.  “Where did you put it?”

I pointed to my purse that I had flung on the floor in frustration.  “Right over there.  I just want to see if I have any missed calls or anything.”

Patrice walked over and grabbed my cell phone.  I happen to catch that she was staring at the screen for a while with a puzzled look on her face.  “You got a text message. From ‘My Heart'”

Immediately, my whole body tingled.  I knew who that was because I had always saved his contact number as such.  He was my ex-boyfriend.  My first love.  My heart, and I was his rib.  It was a cute musing that we had decided to call ourselves after we had seen Baby Boy at the movies.  Everything about our love was young, pure, and innocent.  But we were getting older and graduation was coming sooner than later.  We had to get serious.  Everyone around us told us we should get serious.  I wanted us to get married, but he only cared about his career.  So I let him go; convinced that if he loved me the way he said he did, then he would come back to me.  We kept in touch via phone and messages and I would hint at a reconciliation since he was working at a advertising agency, his dream job.  But it never came.  I even told him about my boyfriends and it never seemed to phase him that I had moved on; in fact, he was always supportive of me.  Which drove me crazy.

“What does the message say?”  I inquired.

“It just says ‘WYD’, whatever that means.”

What are you doing?  My Heart was reaching out to me on my wedding day.  I was on his mind.  I motioned for my phone so I could see this message for myself.  Sure enough, in all caps was the three letters. This was my sign.

I hesitated on what to write to him.  Should I tell him what I’m really doing?  What will he say?  So, I sent it.

Getting married.

I instantly regretted it when I didn’t see a response back.  Then the three dots showed up, then disappeared.  Was he shocked?  Jealous?  Hurt? 

Oh!  Congrats!

My heart sank and it felt like one of my lungs collapsed.  Why wasn’t he hurt by this news?  It must’ve been written on my face because Patrice rubbed me on the back in a rather pathetic manner.  “He’s not getting cold feet, is he?”  she inquired.  I looked at the screen again.  The three dots appeared on the screen again.

Are you ready?

I felt a hesitation.  Maybe it was my mind trying to stop me from saying how I truly felt.  But then again, I didn’t win listening to my mind, anyway.  I was going to do things my way for the first time ever.  I was going to tell My Heart… my heart.

No. I’m not ready.  Truth is, I don’t even know why I’m here when my heart is somewhere else.

All of my bridesmaid were in the room, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.  It began to sound like white noise.

Damn. So…are you really ready to get married?  You shouldn’t marry anybody you don’t love.

*Sigh* You’re right.  But I can’t break his heart.  He loves me.

Do you love him?

*deep sigh* Not as much as I love another.

So don’t get married.  It might be fucked up, but it’ll be more fucked up if you trick him into thinking y’all are going to be happy together.

He was right.

You’re right.  I just wish I had the courage to do this before.

You got it now.  So use it.  Maybe you can send some to me, lol!

LOL! What do you mean?

I’m going to need some to propose to my girlfriend tonight.

All I remember is screaming; startling everyone.  “What did you say?” one of my bridesmaid asked me sheepishly.


Patrice ushered everyone out of the room and locked the door.  She rushed over to my side with a carton of tissues.  I pulled one out and wiped my eyes; smudging my make-up.  “What is wrong with you?  Are you okay?  Did he…”

“No, it’s not him.  It’s someone else.”  I said through my tears.  “But I need you to help me with something.”

Patrice looked concerned.  “Sure, anything!  What do you need.”

“I need you to help me write this letter, deliver this letter…” I wiped my eyes again. “…and tell everyone that I can’t go through with this wedding.”

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