Chapter Eight - The Calm Before the Storm

One week. Sam and Emily's wedding was one week away.

Things were beyond insane now; Emily and Sue were going crazy, bursting into tears every three seconds. Sam was promptly booted out of his house as it was flooded with endless sheets of paper, clothes, decorations, and general chaos. He and Billy, Jacob's dad, would sit around outside and talk about manly stuff like wrestling or basketball games. Billy was advising Sam on the married life and not to do this or don't do that or Sam, don't be a fool and be careful and blah blah blah. Seth told me all of this while I listened avidly, fascinated, as always, by the relationships in La Push. This was undiscovered territory for me, something I'd never encountered before.

All of the bridesmaids dragged Emily and I to a thousand different dress stores. They asked me endless questions, especially about what the colors should be (why they were asking me and not Emily, I had no idea.) It was a bit difficult to manage, as Emily had gone out of the traditional way and decided on a rosy pink dress. I'd finally suggested a pale yellow color for their dresses and they all went wild, hugging me and saying that I was a genius. Emily grinned and said, "Thank you, Willow. Yellow is perfect!"

Suddenly, I was in charge of a lot of stuff: shoes, flowers, sanity. I was starting to regret the whole yellow ordeal, because now everyone thought I was the savior of them all and I had to do everything. I barely even knew anyone and yet I had to smooth over the craziness. But I was okay with that; shoes and flowers weren't that big of a deal.

Amist all of the insanity, I needed time to sit down, even just for five seconds. I went down to the beach Tuesday evening and put my bare toes in the waves. It felt good on my aching feet, and I sat down in the sand, feeling utterly content.

There was movement further down the beach, and I turned my head to see Seth, Paul, Jared, and Embry sitting in a huddle. This was eerily similiar to my first day in La Push, excluding CJ and Moving Guy Greg. They seemed to be sitting around a pile of sticks, Jared frowning over two stones in his hand that he kept smashing together, and I guessed that they were trying to start a kind of campfire.

Seth was the first one to look up at me when I wandered over there. "Hey," he said.

"Hi. What are you doing?"

"Trying to make a fire so we can roast marshmallows but the stupid thing isn't working!" growled Jared, just as a flame appeared and the sticks caught fire. He blinked down at it in surprise, and I had to giggle at his expression.

"I see the light!" exclaimed Embry in a grand voice. Everyone erupted into laughter.

"Paul, go get some more sticks so we can put the marshmallows on them," commanded Jared.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You're so damn lazy." Jared got up and searched for marshmallow sticks while I sat down next to Seth. There was a huge pile of bags of marshmallows between us, and Paul reached for one when he thought nobody was looking.

"Hey! You little sneak," said Seth, slapping his hand away. Paul raised his eyebrows.

"I wasn't going to eat them," he replied smoothly, "I was just going to open the bag."

"Sure you were," Jared chimed in, returning with a bundle of sticks. He dusted the sand off of them and handed one to each person. Immediately there was a mad rush for marshmallows, people crawling over each other for bags. All of a sudden, Embry was freaking out and people were laughing at him. I soon saw why; his shoe had caught on fire. He took it off in one quick movement and threw it in a nearby puddle. Then he went back to his marshmallows like nothing had happened.

Paul was the first one to burn his. He pulled it out of the fire and gave it a distressed look; the previous puffy white was now a shriveled black. Jared told me, "Whoever burns their marshmallow has to eat it."

"Oh. Well, sometimes they're not too bad if they're just a little toasty," I said, taking a bite out of my own.

"But that's not all," Seth explained. "The first person to smack their hand on the ground is the one who puts whatever they want on the marshmallow. Rocks, sand, shells..."

"Ew! That's totally disgusting!" I said, wrinkling my nose.

"Okay, everyone, on the count of three," said Jared. "One, two...three!"

Three hands slapped onto the sand. "That was definitely Embry," said Seth. Jared nodded.

"Okay, I'm going to keep this as least-disgusting as possible because Willow's here," said Embry. He took the marshmallow from Paul and dragged it through the puddle he'd thrown his shoe into. When he was done with that, he sprinkled an avalanche of sand on it and handed it to Paul.

Paul easily stuck the marshmallow in his mouth and chewed, swallowing a second later like it was no big deal. Then, we all watched as his tanned face turned to a pale green, shimmering in the flames. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he moaned.

Jared, Seth, and Embry laughed as Paul darted up the hill and towards his house, probably aiming for the bathroom. "That idiot," chuckled Jared. "He takes dares way too seriously."

"What's the consequence if you don't eat it?" I asked.

"Nothing, really. You just get laughed at for a little while and that's it," Embry answered.

"I'd much rather be laughed at than have to eat that crap." Seth chortled and gave my back a light pat.

"You're funny," he said.

I shrugged. "Eh, not that much. Sometimes you have to be in this world. Or else you'll be fucked up and nobody will care. Heck, even if you're not funny people will screw you over. That's just how it is."

Suddenly, it was very quiet. I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing or if a 'Kick Me!' sign was taped on my back. Maybe I shouldn't have confessed how life could be; they didn't want to hear it, I was sure. Then Seth raised his right arm and said, "Amen."

"Couldn't agree with you more," Embry countered.

"Truer words have never been spoken," declared Jared.

Now I was embarrassed, and I didn't know why. "Oh, well, thanks," I mumbled. I hated when anyone stared at me, so I looked at the ground. A small crab scattered by, leaving a tiny trail of sand behind it.

By the time Paul came back, he was complaining all over the place. I looked up to see him, and he looked fine. But of course this was Paul. He loved to complain.

We sat around and stuffed our faces with marshmallows for a few hours. The guys wouldn't stop talking (and they thought girls chattered a lot? Phht. We were nothing compared to this group) but in a way, the sound of their loud, deep voices was reassuring. I started to get a bit tired, exhausted from that day's Leah drama, and leaned against Seth.

The next thing I knew, the sunlight was blasting through my bedroom window. I sat up and looked around the room. I could hear someone downstairs banging something around. Probably Ciara.

Who had brought me home? I didn't have the faintest idea of an answer to this question, so I just guessed. Embry? Jared? Seth? (Paul was ruled out, as he was lazier than Ciara, and that was saying something.) Seth was the most likely; I had a feeling. But maybe not.

I looked out of the window. It was too far to tell, but a couple of houses down, I could have sworn that I saw Seth sitting in the front yard.

Everything was set. A huge frosted white cake sat smack in the middle of a table, surrounded by empty wine glasses that I could just imagine someone crashing into and sending shards of glass flying. White, yellow, light pink, and dark pink flowers hung in bunches atop of wooden end tables, courtesy of myself. The seats were just regular beach chairs, haphazardly arranged at random intervals. I could now see why Emily had demanded a beach wedding; the endless sea stretching towards the sunset was absolutely beautiful.

Heather was at home taking care of CJ, something for which I was thankful. She'd insisted that weddings made her sad and she'd be much happier babysitting CJ, but I seriously doubted this. Whatever floated her boat, though.

Seth, standing next to me in a black suit and white tie, (the exact opposite of Sam's outfit) smiled at me nervously and said, swinging his arms back and forth, "Well, this is it, isn't it? The big day."

"Yeah." I was focused on Leah by this point, standing and talking to Embry at a mile a minute. Emily had asked her to be a bridesmaid, but she politely declined. I thought this was probably because she didn't want to wear a yellow dress. Her own dress was a deep, velvet red, soaking in what was left of the sunlight. She'd even streaked her hair the same color for the ocassion.

"I'm nervous," said Seth uncomfortably, picking at his fingernails. I turned back to him, surprised; I'd never heard anything like this come out of his mouth before.

"About what?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's just...I'm happy for them, but...I don't know. It's hard to explain. I guess I'm getting all emotional over this wedding or something." He grinned even wider. "That sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it?"

"It does not," I replied. "Hell, if I were you, I'd be bawling my eyes out right now. You're doing great, Seth. Just hang in a little while longer."

Sue ran around telling everyone to get in their places, that the wedding was two seconds away, and there was a mad shuffling of movement, people scrambling over each other to get to their spots. Seth gave me another anxious look, grin gone, and I squeezed his hand, smiling at him. He smiled back and, of all things to do, raised my hand to his face to give it a quick kiss. Seth dropped my hand and ran off to the groom's men line while I tried to find a seat. Eventually, I found a spot next to Jared's cousin and sat down.

Everything went silent, and I turned to see Emily smiling a few feet behind me. She looked gorgeous, in that rosy dress with her hair done up and three white roses in her hands. I thought that she might start crying, as her chin was wavering, but she bravely trecked up the aisle to piano music someone's nephew was playing.

Sue burst into tears when they were halfway done with their vows, and I could see Quil looking as though he might do the same; he kept patting everyone around him on the shoulder and taking deep breaths. Finally, as the second "I do" was said and Sam bent down to kiss his wife, there was a riot of clapping and tears and screaming. They broke away after a moment, Sam using one hand to hold Emily's waist.

The other was wiping away his tears.

Everyone made a mad dash for the cake as soon as Sam and Emily had taken the first bites. Seth and I had to cut a piece in half when the rest of the cake was eaten. "You're not crying," I noted.

He grinned and lifted his finger to wipe away an imaginary tear. "Says who?"

"Eat your cake, Seth. Before I smash it in your face."

Then the dances began. Jacob had brought a stereo that Emily requested certain songs on and was cranking it up, probably loud enough for the people on the other side of the sea to hear it. Everyone "Awwww"ed when Sam and Emily swept over to the patch of the beach meant for the dances and started to sway back and forth. When the bride/groom dance was over, everyone ran over there and started to dance. I just stood there kind of awkwardly and pretended to drink out of my empty plastic cup when Seth came over and dragged me to the dance, leaving me to sit the cup on the table and follow.

By now, the music was some sappy crap that everyone was crying over. I had never liked slowdancing much, and apparently, neither did Seth. He twirled me around like a top and we - to put it simply - really got down, bumping into each other and laughing like maniacs as we did some mutated form of the robot. We were disturbing the soft silence, but nobody cared, instead just staring googly-eyed at their lover or giggling at us.

The next song was more upbeat, and Seth and I went crazy, slamdancing and making Quil laugh. He joined us and we started a kind of moshpit. We looked stupid, I knew, but who cared when you were having fun?

By the time the dances were over, I'd wandered over to the buffet table (now wiped clean by hungry La Push residents) and sat by Seth and Leah. I'd already congratulated Sam and Emily about a hundred billion times, and each time they grinned at me and said thank you. This was what everyone else was doing now.

It was a bit dead around where I sat, so I said to Leah, "Nice dress."

She raised her eyebrows a little, like she was surprised I was actually talking to her. She probably was. "Thanks, Willow."

"That was insane," Seth said, and it took me a minute to figure out that he was talking about our dancing. "We need to go to a rock concert someday. We would totally knock down everyone in sight."

"Yeah," I replied, looking at Emily. A few strands of hair had escaped from her updo, and she looked tired, but she was definitely happy as she leaned against Sam's chest and hugged him tight. For some reason I couldn't explain, watching this broke my heart. I guess it was just one of those times when you were so happy, you turned sad. Or something like that.

"You look upset," remarked Seth. I swore that sometimes he could read minds. I turned to him and sighed.

"Yeah," I repeated. "Weddings always make me a little sad."

"You know, I've never understood why women cry at weddings."

"Well, look who's talking! Mr. Teary-Eyed Nervous Guy."

Seth shook his head and smiled. "That's different." Suddenly, his face got serious and solemn, and with the same expression he'd had the first day I met him, he reached out with one hand to tuck some hair behind my ear. He looked so sweet and sad that I wanted to hug him or something.

And, in a move of pure stupidity or a moment of daring, or maybe it was the mild champagne I'd had earlier, I don't know, I did. Seth looked down at me, obviously surprised. Then, carefully, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back. We just sat there for a moment, and I felt utterly content, like this was where I was meant to be. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sue and Leah staring at us, Sue grinning widely, but I ignored them.

We leaned against each other and looked at the horizon. There was only a few rays of sunlight left, but they stretched out like fingers, desperate to touch as much sky as they could before darkness fell. And in each other's arms, we watched the night sweep over us.

By the time I got home, I was a little tipsy, I'll admit, and giggling like a fool as I stumbled through the door. I was waiting for sounds that showed the other beings in the house had heard me come in. I was even going to tell the first person I saw all about the wedding, whether they wanted to hear it or not. But there was a threatening silence settled over the house, and instantly I sensed that something was wrong.

"Willow, honey," said Ciara from the couch, not looking at me, and immediately I knew what it was. My throat was clogged up as I drifted over to sit next to her. This couldn't be happening again. "We need to talk."

Ciara looked awful, with tears streaming down her face and an almost-empty bottle of beer in her hand. I was getting mad, because I knew what had happened, knew before she said it. "Greg left me. He said that he didn't like commitment."

Well, Ciara didn't like commitment either, so I couldn't see the problem here. But of course, any misunderstanding at all and any relationship Ciara was in was ruined.

"Willow..." she continued, sighing and staring at the floor. I knew what was coming, could count down the seconds in my head.

3...

2...

1...

"We're moving."

Ka-boom!

"I just can't take it here anymore," Ciara continued. This was the same speech she'd given last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. "I feel like I'm rotting away. I need to start over somewhere new. I hope that you can understand that."

This was simply the way Ciara was. I should have expected this. But that didn't stop me from standing up and glaring at her. "No, I don't, actually. I don't understand what your problem is. You barely even know Greg. And yet you think it's okay to yank your kids up from where they've been not even for two months and throw us around somewhere else because of a freaking pervert like him."

"But--"

"Shut up! You don't get it, do you, you don't know what it's like to lose your friends every few weeks--" I turned away from her and frantically tried to wipe away the tears, in vain. I wanted to scream at Ciara. But I was sobbing like a pathetic piece of junk when every barrier I'd ever built inside broke down.

"Willow, doll, you'll get used to it."

"No, I won't! You're trying to make my life miserable, aren't you? Fuck you, Ciara. I hate you!" I ran up the stairs and flew into my room, slamming the door behind me. My bed didn't feel comforting like it was supposed to as I curled into a fetal position and sobbed against my pillow. Why hadn't I seen this coming?

I don't know how much time passed before Ciara came and knocked on my door, which was thankfully locked tight. It may have been mere minutes, but it felt like days. I was half-asleep, eyes partly cracked open. She sounded very far away when she was talking, and all I could catch was "...southern Montana...two days...called moving company..."

My face was feeling very dry and stung when I sat up. The light in my room was on and peirced my eyes; I blinked and listened to Ciara stumble down the hallway and close her door. A moment later, I heard her crying. Another door opened, and soft feet pattered down the hall. "Mom?" asked Heather. There was no response, and Heather went back into her room.

Another night. I already knew what I'd be doing, which was trying to make sure Ciara didn't do anything drastic. There was a bottle of sleeping pills in the kitchen that I'd bought when Heather was in the hospital. I prayed that Ciara hadn't taken any of them.

As I squeezed my eyes against the fresh wave of tears that was coming at the thought of Seth and all of my other friends here, there was a loud clomp! from Ciara's room, probably her crashing into something. When I went into her room, she was sitting on the floor and tears were racing down her cheeks. I closed the door and went back into my own bedroom, breathing in the scent that would be forgotten in a matter of days.

We only had two days before we'd be moving. It was so easy to do, probably because we owned about nothing and Ciara tended to run out of houses with overdue bills and not even care. Because of her, any friendship I'd made with anyone in La Push was soon to come crashing down.

With a sigh, I went to my closet and picked up as many clothes as I could find, digging a suitcase from behind them a second later. It was time to start packing for Montana.

Author's Notes: I've only got one thing to say:
I am so sorry. ):