II. Wedding Bells


The man next to me smelled like ammonia, and his handkerchief reeked of piss. My mother once said I had a brother. "He sweat excessively," she would say, and I would ask for a picture. There were none.

"Excuse me," he had his sleeve angled towards me, "could you hold this?"

I sneezed. Too much pollen.

"Miss," he began, his voice an octave higher, "I would appreciate your help."

I ignored him and his sweaty tuxedo.

"Are you deaf?"

"Yes."

A lady hushed us.

...

I sneezed again. The man had left a stain on the bench, having contracted a nosebleed and smearing red everywhere in his general vicinity. "He went through so many tissues," she didn't name him. He was just a pronoun to her.

...

I checked the timer. Forty-seven hours, fifty-two minutes.

"The Cullens should have her removed."

"I doubt she was invited."

"Does she have sweatpants on?"

I did have my invitation. Two, actually. For my mother and I.

"Maybe she's a distant cousin."

I wished my father were here. He would have had his dilapidated Kodak damaged from the rain, taking pictures so he could masturbate to them in the shower or his recliner. I didn't love him, but he kept my mother under control and made living not-so-generic. Uncle Charlie probably would've insisted upon his leaving though, despite my father's assurance that he wasn't interested in Bella. She, like Rowan, had brown hair and brown eyes, and he favored blondes. Bimbos, he would call them.

...

A man across the aisle coughed. The guests had risen, teeming with delight, their entire selves hinged on Bella's arrival. That man must be wearing contacts. Him and his friend. Or they had albinism. Their body parts would auction for a high price on an underground market, but such crimes were immoral.

Bella caught my gaze, rupturing whatever cesspool of thoughts I had. The Cullens must've been loaded to have a wedding as upscale as this. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Renée would've just rented a stereotypical countryside church and a pudgy minister.

...

I blinked.

"I do," Bella whispered.

I had remained upright, my shoulders slacked forward in exhaustion. Sit, my father hissed under his breath. My knees buckled, and I landed on the wood with a soft thud. The crowd was in a frenzy, their applause encouraging an oncoming headache. I should've brought earplugs.

...

I wondered where their honeymoon would be. Probably somewhere on a private island or on a yacht in the Caribbean. Are they due to depart soon? I paused. No. There was an intermediary celebration where cake was provided and speeches made. I could imagine Aunt Renée parading me around the venue like a prized animal. I was the "daughter she never had", and I wasn't "messed up in the head" as my parents were. I, in her opinion, was normal, incapable of doing wrong. Oh, the ignorance.

...

"An orphan," I heard her say, "poor thing. She lost her mother in an accident two weeks ago."

The police, however, concluded that my mother died by asphyxiation, not a car crash. Aunt Renée lied because she despised her, and she was ashamed to have such fucked up relatives.

...

"Are you coming or not, Addy? Alice has a dress you can wear," Aunt Renée sounded concerned, her lip in a slight pout and eyebrows drawn inward.

The nickname was unnecessary. "No thank you."

"You don't have much of a choice. Now, come on."

She ushered me towards a cluster of people, and I assumed they were Cullens. I didn't recognize them, but the blonde was reminiscent of a Barbie I once had. My father would've liked her.

"Hi, Adalie!" the shortest beamed.

"Addy, this is Alice and Rosalie."

"So this is the cousin?"

"Who comes to a wedding in sweatpants?"

I didn't answer, and Aunt Renée sighed. She assumed I was in mourning as most children did when their parents died, but I wasn't. The issue I did have was due to a lack of sleep, not grief.

"Addy," she chastened, "Alice is waiting."

...

"Do you prefer Addy or Adalie?"

"Can I ask a question in return?"

"Sure!"

"Adalie. How are your eyes golden?"

She hesitated. "We wear contacts."

What is this – a cult?

...

I kept drifting while Alice scoured her closet for a suitable enough dress. She suggested heels, but I declined. They made my ankles hurt and my posture awkward.

"You look exhausted."

"Jetlag."

"Do you want me to cover your bags?"

"No thank you." I wanted cake.

...

Alice demanded I be introduced to the remaining Cullens and the Denalis because "we were related by marriage", but I thought her excuse was lame. Had Aunt Renée asked her? Why else would she be so persistent? I resided on the east coast, hours apart from Washington, yet here I was – stuck and expected to socialize.

"Adalie, this is…" I lost interest as her list began.

"…and this is our father, Carlisle," she concluded. Carlisle. What an odd name, and he looked so pious.

"Hello, Miss Gray." His pupils were black. Weren't they golden during the ceremony?

They're using you because they think you're vulnerable.

"Addy, there you are! Charlie wants to see you."

...

I caught Carlisle staring on several occasions. According to Aunt Renée, he was a doctor who had adopted five children: Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, Alice and Edward. Jessica, Bella's friend, had teasingly said Carlisle was the ultimate matchmaker because they were couples, but I doubted such things were a coincidence. The Cullens, Denalis and their albino guests were particularly strange, and I wanted to know why. Wait. I was leaving tomorrow morning. Never mind then.

...

I checked the timer. The numbers were blurred. I checked again. Fifty-something. Edward and Bella were gone, and I hadn't been able to try the cake. Damnit. Were there leftovers? I stood unsteadily. I needed to sleep. Alice's voice was muted. I saw her and Carlisle, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Maybe I am deaf.


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