Saturday, November 16, 2013, 4:27 PM
I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company. -Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer
It feels like hours since I've been standing here. The moment the words "that should be enough for now" have passed through the photographer's lips, I'm three quarters of the way down the stairs into the swanky reception hall. I half expect someone to call after me but no one does.
My heart feels like it might explode and I realize the two glasses of champagne I inhaled in the bridal suite have done nothing to settle my nerves so the moment my feet touch the hardwood floor of the ballroom I make a beeline for the open bar. I shift my dress aside and sit on one of the stools. I feel like a giant christmas ornament as the white tulle begins to stick slightly out of the bottom of the dark red fabric. I wave over a young guy in a bow-tie whose wiping down some glasses. Why are they always doing that?
He walks over to me and I squint at the name tag on his vest.
"Hello, Alistair."
He smiles and nods.
"Hello, miss..."
"Bella."
"Miss Bella. What can I get for you?"
He's trying to be charming. I don't have the energy to tell him it won't get him anywhere so I force a smile and order a jack and coke. He turns around and I take a moment to set down my small bouquet of roses and rest my arms on the bar.
I wonder how long I can get away with hiding and sulking in a corner before someone tries to talk to me.
"Bella!"
I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing for the earth to open and swallow me up so I don't have to be put in this position. The logical part of my brain decides that's not likely to happen so I take a deep breath and turn around. She's a vision in her jade cocktail dress. They match her eyes. Not to mention someone else's as well.
"How are you, sweetie?"
"I'm great, Esme. How are you?"