{"id":5126,"date":"2020-10-14T09:30:21","date_gmt":"2020-10-14T13:30:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/?p=5126"},"modified":"2022-08-10T13:57:40","modified_gmt":"2022-08-10T17:57:40","slug":"marriage-melodies-and-rewritten-conclusions","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/marriage-melodies-and-rewritten-conclusions\/","title":{"rendered":"Marriage, Melodies, and Rewritten Conclusions"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>
\n

Weddings, Willows, and Revised Expectations<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by V. Joy Palmer<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kaylee McGrurd feels like life has left her behind. Her best friends have all moved out, married, or are in the process of matrimony. Meanwhile, she\u2019s lost another job, and her daily diet consists of noodles that are better suited as packing material.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then Kaylee\u2019s ex, Gabe Sanders, enters the equation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gabe walked out on Kaylee without warning or explanation nine years earlier, but now he\u2019s been brought back to the area for the unforeseen future. And he\u2019s in need of new lead vocalist for his wedding band.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A dwindling account balance calls for desperate measures, and Kaylee reluctantly accepts Gabe\u2019s offer. While the former couple works together in the midst of happy marriages and heartfelt melodies, secrets and the need for forgiveness<\/a> highlight the strife between them\u2026and the hope that maybe God\u2019s rewriting the conclusion to their story.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Prologue<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

When real life starts to mirror the first verse of any number of country breakup songs, you should expect it to get messy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t. That\u2019s my bad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mistake Number One: thinking that it was just a coincidence that \u201cWhat Hurts the Most\u201d by Rascal Flatts was playing on the radio that day. I should have recognized the foreshadowing in the brokenhearted lyrics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If I had, maybe I could have prevented complete and total devastation, humiliation, and did I mention devastation? The memories of that last day together flood my entire body like a crashing tsunami, from my trembling fingertips to the dumb look of shock that graces my stiff face as I stare\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At him<\/em>!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I beseech thee, learn from my mistakes as I share my tale of woe<\/a>\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everything feels very <\/em>Boy Meets World, but what\u2019s wrong with the idea of two eighteen-year-olds running away in the dead of night to a justice of the peace\u2019s house to complete the final phase of their elopement? Who cares that my walk down the aisle is essentially a drive down the New Jersey boardwalk?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I look out the window and squint.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A boardwalk that I can just make out in the distance behind some buildings\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A line from <\/em>Boy Meets World about how only creeps and weirdos are out this time of the night flashes through my mind.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s us. A couple of creeps and weirdos. In love. Totally worked out for Cory and Topanga. (Not one word out of you about their multiple breakups! Or the fact that they\u2019re, you know, not real!)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I glance at Gabe, noting the tense set of his shoulders that scream everything is <\/em>not okay in Whoville.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gulp. (I mean it. Don\u2019t say anything!)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everything is quiet. Very quiet. Even the ever-present jukebox of songs in my head are quiet. Nothing is playing. No confirmation. No warning. No feeling. Just the eerie quiet before the internal storm rages.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I resist biting my lower lip because if I do, Gabe will know I\u2019m about to freak out. I will remain calm. Wesley calm. Calm like the sea after a storm\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oy. Bad analogy. Who wants to go through the storm to get to the calm?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We turn down a long driveway, and a big orange house comes into view. Behind the hideously painted house, the ocean catches bits of moonlight to toss back and forth. The car lurches to a stop next to a blue Sedan.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Behold, our future.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou ready?\u201d Gabe askes in a wooden voice.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And that\u2019s when the conga line of panic starts to dance through my head. Like I can hear the annoying rhythm as each doubt shimmies by. How could I do this? What about my parents? I know that we are not close by any stretch of the imagination, but what if they wanted to be at their only daughter\u2019s wedding? My brother is only ten and vehemently believes girls are gross, so they won\u2019t get another chance for a long time\u2014or ever, if my brother sticks to the he-man, woman-hater vows, courtesy of <\/em>Little Rascals. And what about Izze? She\u2019s the kind of best friend who\u2019s closer than a sister. She would be devastated if she missed my wedding. And what about Gabe? He\u2019s not exactly in the best place right now\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGabe,\u201d I whisper, \u201care you sure about this?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sure about this necktie you talked me into.\u201d He tugs at his collar in an attempt to loosen the offending, paisley-patterned garment. \u201cPaisley, seriously? Do I look like a paisley kind of guy to you?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not what I mean.\u201d I shift so I can look at him better, but I can\u2019t read his gray eyes thanks to the dark car. \u201cThree days ago, this all seemed so romantic, but you just had a huge emotional<\/a> bomb dropped on you. And it\u2019s like\u2026it\u2019s seriously only been three days since everything happened. Maybe this isn\u2019t the best time. I mean, you\u2019re\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHas nothing to do with this,\u201d Gabe says as he cuts me off and grabs his black suit jacket from the backseat.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cue awkward silence.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gabe lays the suit jacket across his lap and takes my hand in his. \u201cYes, to answer your question. I love you, and I want to marry you.\u201d But that muscle on the left side of his jaw starts to twitch, something that only happens when he\u2019s anxious in a bad way.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I choose to ignore it like the dolt I know I will call myself in the future. I coax a tight smile out of my strained facial features. \u201cOkay. Let\u2019s do this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He passes me a lemon drop candy. \u201cEat your nasty version of chocolate, Love.\u201d He winks, but even that looks stiff.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I unwrap the sour candy and pop it into my mouth, tucking the plastic wrapper into the cupholder in the middle console. Normally, these are like magic to my overwrought nerves.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I\u2019m worried about him.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019s shutting me out. He won\u2019t talk about his parents\u2019 abrupt separation and impending divorce. I can barely wrap my head around the thought of two people who have always struck me as the perfect couple divorcing. And if I can\u2019t believe it, then it\u2019s a hundred and twelve percent more world-shattering for Gabe. And he refuses to talk about it, changing the subject to our impending marriage whenever I bring it up.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Impending sounds bad right there, doesn\u2019t it?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you think we could use a Taylor Swift song\u2014like \u201cMary\u2019s Song\u201d\u2014for that part where we walk down the aisle afterwards? What is that part called?\u201d Despite the question, he stares out the window as if in a daze.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the recessional.\u201d I finally succumb to the urge to bite my lower lip. Not that he\u2019s even looking at me, so it\u2019s not like he\u2019ll notice anything is wrong.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I love him.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is a good idea.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not. One. Word.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We climb out of the car at the same time. All at once, something sweet-smelling yet oddly revolting hits me. Oh, my. You can really feel this stink in the eyes. I think this is the stink that \u201cWeird Al\u201d Yankovic is referring to in \u201cTrash Day.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is that?\u201d I choke the question out in between gasps of tainted air. It even burns the throat. I yank my dark blue, sparkly sweater off and attempt to wrap it around my head like an air-filtering turban.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe ocean would be my guess,\u201d Gabe says between his fingers.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Great, so this is my fault thanks to my life-long dream to get married on the beach. I thought the miraculous discovery of a justice of a peace who did weddings in her home on the beach was like God blessing this. But thanks to the acidic feeling that\u2019s working to actively liquefy my eyeballs, I\u2019m starting to wonder about this omen business. Does God send bad omens<\/em> to say, <\/em>Stop! You are making the biggest mistake of your life! these days? Is this coma-inducing smell my talking donkey?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It would be so much easier if He used that big, booming voice of His. Then the message wouldn\u2019t get lost in translation, and I wouldn\u2019t be blind by the time I said I do.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gabe winks at me. \u201cSomething to tell the grandkids.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And just like that, all my doubts and fears melt away. Because I do love this man, and I have no doubt that he\u2019s the one God picked for me. My Daddy wouldn\u2019t steer me wrong.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I grin at him. \u201cLet\u2019s do this,\u201d I say again, but this time, I mean it.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We run to the house, and Gabe knocks on the door. An elderly man in a brown suit opens it and without missing a beat (remember, my sweater is still wrapped around my head) steps to the side. \u201cThat algae is pretty sulfurous smelling lately. Come in before your bride faints.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart skips a beat at being called Gabe\u2019s bride, and my feet are more than happy to cross the threshold into what I hope and pray is an odorless home.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy name is Roland, Rolly for short. Delia, the justice of the peace, is my wife. She\u2019ll be downstairs in a few minutes.\u201d He sticks his hand out for me to shake, then moves to Gabe. The overhead light of the entryway glints off the top of his balding head.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Rolly turns around, Gabe taps the top of his head and mouths,<\/em> It\u2019s safe to breathe now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smile at him with my eyes and unwind the sweater from around my head. Slipping the light cardigan over my shoulders, I then attempt to smooth down my static-infused red tresses.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you have the money?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I jump, the unexpected mafia-ish question startling me as much as the short, blunt woman in unicorn slippers suddenly standing before me. Where did she come from?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d Gabe passes her an envelope overflowing with cash.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yeah, not helping the mafia image.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Delia, I presume, snatches the envelope from Gabe\u2019s hand and counts it, occasionally muttering under her breath. \u201cOkay.\u201d She lifts her head, and her countenance immediately changes. \u201cLet\u2019s make our way to the sunroom where the ceremony will be held.\u201d Her voice drips with a sweetness that comes from being paid.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Delia charges ahead, informing us all about what we can expect at the ceremony\u2014our wedding!\u2014as she walks. However, I don\u2019t hear any of it. I reach out and grasp Gabe\u2019s clammy hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But he doesn\u2019t respond.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere we are.\u201d Delia stops in front of two rather ornate doors and pushes them open.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I study the room I will remember for eternity. Three of the four walls are made of floor-to-ceiling glass, providing a stunning view of the moon-lit beach and ocean. The room is set up to look like a chapel, complete with five white-painted wooden chairs on each side of the room to make an aisle, a matching wooden arch, and an old organ centered at the far side of the room. I step into the room to get a better look, and I swear the worn wood of the floor creaks before my navy-blue flats brush the surface. There\u2019s some type of fern in a gray ceramic vase in each corner, but the rest of the room isn\u2019t decorated.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s beautiful yet simple\u2026but not what I had been imagining for the last three years. I should feel something more about this sacred space, but I don\u2019t. And that scares me almost as much as the fact that Gabe hasn\u2019t even tried to hide the way he\u2019s flinched every eighty-four seconds since we stepped into this house.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He flinches like that when he\u2019s hiding something.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be right back. You can set the marriage license on top of the organ,\u201d Delia instructs.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gabe crosses the room to do as she says, and I attempt to smooth the wrinkles from the ivory lace dress I secretly purchased from a thrift store two days ago. Long car rides and dresses don\u2019t mix.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey.\u201d Gabe shuffles over and takes my left hand. \u201cI want you to have something.\u201d He slips something onto my ring finger. I look down to see his class ring, the emerald looking huge on my bony finger. I smile. He always said he picked out the \u201cgreen stone\u201d because it reminded him of my eyes.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I look into his gray eyes. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He squeezes my hand. \u201cIt can be your something, uh, new? Or old?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBoth. And borrowed.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s not borrowed. It\u2019s yours. Forever. No matter what.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cue the pile of ooey-gooey me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a hint of paranoia over his word choice\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A shadow darkens his eyes, but just then, Delia and Rolly reappear.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay, love birds, it\u2019s time. Rolly, man your station. Gabe and Kaylee, right?\u201d She waits for us to nod before continuing. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you guys stand at the back of the room and walk down the aisle together, but count to ten before you start.\u201d The way Delia says this makes it clear that she\u2019s instructing us and not asking us what we\u2019d like to do for our wedding.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gabe and I move to take our places. Delia, who is still wearing her unicorn slippers, stands square under the arch. Rolly starts to play Mendelssohn\u2019s \u201cWedding March.\u201d After counting to ten, we start to walk.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The strains\u2014cough, cough\u2014of the wedding march fill the small room.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is nothing like how I imagined this day would be. But it doesn\u2019t matter.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It doesn\u2019t.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is Gabe squirming? I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. I must be crazy.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hope\u2026 Once again, that sliver of doubt seems very, very possible.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We stop in front of Delia, her musky perfume settling around us, and Rolly stops playing. \u201cYou walked too fast,\u201d he mutters.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Delia shoots him a withering look, before smiling at us. \u201cWe are gathered here today to join the two of you in marriage. Turn to face each other and join hands.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We do as we are instructed. Apparently, that\u2019s the theme of our wedding. Very original. I attempt to smile at Gabe.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grimaces.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Repeat after me,\u201d Delia says, looking at Gabe. \u201cI\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gabe drops my hand and takes a step back, casting a look over his shoulder.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The music of my soul <\/em>Zips! to a stop like it\u2019s scratched up vinyl.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, not again,\u201d Delia mutters behind me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Kaylee. I can\u2019t do this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The world slows down. Everything feels surreal. You know when something awful happens and your mind can\u2019t process it, so everything starts to feel fuzzy and disoriented? Yeah, that\u2019s only a fraction of how I feel right now.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everyone stands there in painful, frozen silence for approximately six beats.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI-I can\u2019t do this,\u201d he says again.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat? What do you mean you can\u2019t do this? You said you loved me. That you wanted to marry me. For crying out loud, you were the one who proposed!\u201d I burst. This can\u2019t be happening. I fell asleep on the way here. I\u2019m dreaming. When I wake up, Gabe and I will get married\u2014minus the sulfur smell.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He runs a hand through his wavy black hair. \u201cI know, and I am so sorry. Please, please believe that.\u201d His voice breaks, but I refuse to feel an inkling of compassion.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The truth hits me in full force right then, and my knees warble. Even though I\u2019m almost twice her size, Delia reaches out to steady me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut you\u2019re walking out on me? You don\u2019t abandon the people you love.\u201d I know that firsthand thanks to my parents.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t hurt you, Kaylee. If I marry you, I\u2019ll hurt you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAs opposed to right now, where you\u2019re hurting me?\u201d I spit.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou won\u2019t get your deposit back,\u201d Delia chimes into the conversation, as if that will convince him.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it won\u2019t. I know that look. I know how stubborn he is.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And he\u2019s made up his mind.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Kaylee. I am so sorry.\u201d His voice breaks, and he clears his throat before continuing. \u201cBut I can\u2019t do this to you.\u201d With that, Gabe turns around and jogs through the doorway. A moment later the front door slams shut and the sound of the car engine roaring to life fills my ears.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe you\u2019re cursed, Delia,\u201d Rolly says.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow is not the time for your dumb jokes, Roland.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

So much for happily ever after.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n