Southern Belle

Epilogue

A year or two after her divorce was finalized, she began taking classes at a community college, and eventually, she earned her nursing degree. While working at the nearby hospital, she met her current husband, an anesthesiologist, and they married a few months ago.

Sadly, communication between all of us was extremely difficult because of our hectic schedules, but we all knew that each one of us was only a phone call away.

“That’s great,” I replied, quickly pecking my mother on her right cheek. A red outline of my lips was tattooed onto her face.

“I know.” Her bottom lip jutted outwards, and her nostrils flared. It meant a lot to her to have all her children under one roof again since I knew it was quite lonely for her now that Dad was working all the time, and Grandpa couldn’t keep her company since he had died three years ago from lung cancer.

Even on his death bed, Gramps had sworn that I was genetically a boy. As sad as it was to say, a pang appeared in my chest when thoughts of his funny remarks would enter into my head.

“Well,” she mumbled as she patted me on the back, “I should go help out. You go get yourself settled in, and I’ll work on the party decorations in the barn.”

My head moved in agreement. As her legs wobbled towards the door, her torso turned slightly, so she could send me one last grin. Our relationship had grown over the past years, and it felt nice to know that we were both in good places in our lives.

Now, my mother was one of my favorite people in the entire world. It felt so weird to think that I used to hate being around her.

Once I heard the slam of the front door, I pulled one of the bar stools from the counter and sat down. When Mom’s arms were tight around my waist, I saw her stealthily place an envelope onto the counter. The envelope was a bright yellow, and on the front, my name was written in white, sparkly ink.

Oh, I have been expecting you, letter.

As the letter was torn from the folder, I grinned slightly as my assumptions were confirmed. My blond friend, one of the most important people in my life, had sent this to me.

Ash.

If I had received this two years ago, tears would have probably been cascading down the sides of my face.  Now that the future seemed so bright, this invitation didn’t cause any hard feelings to resurface.

This invitation to his wedding.

Ash and I, as soon as I had graduated college, decided to see what our relationship would grow into. We dated for about two years, and everyone had told me that the chapel was the next stop on my path of life. However, as time went on, the kisses turned into fights, and the smiles transformed into tears. We barely had time to see each other, and we realized that fate had decided that we were best off being friends, rather than a couple.

At first, I was heartbroken because Ash had been the one to break it off—it was me who had scheduled multiple appointments with relationship counselors. For months after the breakup, my daily routine consisted of eating breakfast, crying, sleeping, and working. But then, he came, and the light at the end of the tunnel reappeared.

Biting my lip, I continued to read the invitation, which began with:

            Please join us on May 25 to celebrate the marriage of Ash Thomson and Elise Monroe.

There was a lot more written, but frankly, reading wasn’t something I enjoyed, so my hand shoved the letter back into the ornate envelope. As I did that, a small laugh left my mouth as I thought of their marriage.