(NOTE: This is the sequel to "Flickering Shadows". I would highly suggest that you read it before reading this.)
Chapter 1: Weddings
Weddings-I don't like them very much. I don't quite understand the point. People all over the world spend thousands on these big, extravagant weddings, when all they really get out of it is a piece of paper that says, "Yep, you're legally together now." Complete waste of money if you ask me. But no one does; I'm one of those lonely single people you see all the time at weddings. You know, the ones who get totally hammered and sleep with an equally lonely and, usually, single bridesmaid or groomsmen.
I doubt I'll be getting any tonight though; it is my mother's wedding-her third wedding to be exact. All the bridesmaids will be all old and shriveled up. She threw the whole thing together in about a week and a half, because that is just the kind of person she is. She finds a man she likes and she goes after him. My mom is 55 now, and her soon-to-be-husband is 45, I think. His name is Hal (short for...something, I hope) and that is about all I know about him. That and that he has some weird obsession with trains. I'll never fully get why she likes him. But, hey, if she's happy, I'm happy for her.
My mother had a succession of bad marriages. She first got married when she was nineteen and a "reckless, young thing" as she says. That marriage lasted a few years before he left her for a younger girl. Her second marriage came at the age of twenty-seven. I was born three years later, and my sister, Heather, five years after me. My dad was abusive, towards us and toward my mother. When I was sixteen, I snapped and fought back. I hit him in just the right spot in the neck, and he died then and there. That is why I was sent to a mental hospital in the first place anyway; a jail alternative. Hal seems nice and all, but I just do not want to deal with having another crappy dad to deal with.
I also thought I would be married by now. I am 25 years old, currently unemployed but I've got a good résumé, and not bad looking if I do say so myself. Whenever I think of being single, I think of her. It is so hard not to-her departure from the world was so sudden, and so preventable.
Lucy Arnold was the love of my life. I was seventeen when I met her in a mental hospital. She was there for murdering her family, and was seen as unfit to stand a trial. Not much of a dream girl, right? Well, you did not know her. I was an undercover journalist for the Denver newspaper. I was writing about her; I needed to get the inside scoop. And as luck would have it, I fell for her, and she fell for me. But she found out what I was writing and was furious; she dumped me then and there. Five years later-when I was 23-I found her in Buffalo, Wyoming. Turns out I had a daughter I never knew of. Her name was Reagan and she was a beautiful six year old girl. Tragically she died from a broken neck from falling down the stairs. Lucy blamed herself and committed suicide after...after I left her too. I'll never forgive myself for leaving, ever.
So that is my story. I lost it all two years ago, and only now am I trying to regain some of my life. I am not actively looking to date, but if the right girl came along I certainly wouldn't object. But would anyone even want me? Since her death I have become angry. I am becoming more like my father everyday-his rage, his alcoholic tendencies. Whenever I start feeling sad again, and not numb or angry, I pick up a bottle and start drinking again. And, in all honesty, I have not moved on from Lucy at all. Even though I saw her cold, lifeless body lowered into the ground, her death is still hard to believe. I'm still as in love with her as the day I first met her.
***
"Excuse me," called a voice from the stage. I turned to see Hal, my new step-father, and my Aunt Hannah standing side-by-side behind the microphone. Oh God, here comes the depressing speech about my father. "Thank you all for your attention," said Hannah. She was my prudish aunt; very religious and stuffy.
"Now, we all know that Mary, my new wife, had a husband before me. He died eight years ago. I never met him, but I heard that he was such a great person." Hal said.
"A great person?" I repeated to myself. Ha! My dad beat my mom, my little sister, and I. If those are the qualities a great person has, then I must be a saint! I thought about standing up and calling him on his mistake, but I supposed I was not quite drunk enough to do it yet. I came off to the rest of my family as the lonely, alcoholic loser; might as well live up to my nickname.
After a few beers and another hour of party, I was drunk as a skunk. Why do they say that anyway? Skunks can't get drunk-silly people! Anyway, there I was, brooding at a table in the back corner of the room. Then I saw her: a girl that couldn't be more than twenty-one with blonde hair that fell down in curls. They spun around her head as she twirled on the dance floor. She was lovely; I'd have to get a closer look.
I lumbered my way over toward the pounding music. Hopefully, I would not scare her off. I looked frightening for sure. My brown hair was messy, my eyes were bloodshot, and my general appearance was disheveled. If appearance alone did not scare her off, my voice would. My speech was slurred, not majorly, but enough to show that I'd had a good amount to drink that night. I know that I said that I'm not over Lucy at all, and I'm not. That just prevents me from having an actual relationship. I have meaningless, one night stands all the time; I could not tell you the names of most of the girls that I've slept with in the past two years. All they are is a good time-if you can call it that-and it eases my pain for just a little while.
While I was stumbling my way over, she turned and wandered out of the room with her friend. I started after her, but then my attention was grasped by something else. The most recent toast to the newlyweds had been completed, and the girl on stage-whoever she was-said, "Now Mary's children would like to make a speech." The blonde was put out of my mind now; I had a bigger problem. I had to make a speech? What speech was this? I looked around, trying to find a place to hide. Unfortunately relatives were looking at me, waiting. It was times like these I really regretted ignoring the e-mails and the phone calls from the maid-of-honor, who had probably mentioned I had to say a few words.
Heather, my younger sister, climbed up the steps easily and soberly. I was surprised that even she would follow my mother's rules of no underage drinking tonight. Heather would be twenty-one in three months. Even knowing this bit of information, my mother was still super strict on that kind of thing...not that it had stopped me in my youth. I had quite a rebellious adolescence. Anyway, I tripped up the stairs next to her. I'm sure all my new relatives were ashamed that they were now related to someone like me-single, date-less, unemployed, and highly intoxicated. I could give them more to be ashamed of.
"Dylan!" Heather mumbled to me. "Did you even write anything to say?"
"Naw," I shook my head. "I'd figure I'll wing it."
Heather rolled her blue eyes; they were the same dark, expressive eyes I had, and our dad's as well. "I figured you would. So just read off my paper."
Our mumbling ceased the moment we reached the microphone. A piece of paper materialized in her hand, and I could see that she had taken the liberty of highlighting the words I was to say. Heather jump started into her speech, "I want to start out by welcoming Hal into our family." She flashed a dazzling smile his way. "I'm so glad you made my mom happy again. You and I don't know each other very well; you weren't the one who took me to dance lessons, or beat up the boys that broke my heart. But I look forward to making new memories with you."
My highlighted portion came up. I took a deep breath and jumped in, without trying to make it obvious that the feelings I was reading about were not what I actually felt. It was only a few sentences in before I started feeling angry towards him, and somewhat betrayed by my mother. "You weren't there to teach me how to ride a bike; you weren't the one to give me pointers on how to ask girls out. You'll be making a speech like this at my wedding, and if it is this cheesy, I'll hurt you. I really don't look forward to making new memories with you. I'll never call you my dad." The audience was dead silent. Heather stood horror struck beside me. She was worried that my angry rant and crazed behavior would rub off on her; she already was the apple of my step-dad's family's eye. "Why are you here anyway? What business do you have? We're grownups, you have no purpose. Don't even try to have those 'father-son bonding moments' with me, because they aren't going to happen. I don't need you to pretend to be my dad!"
My mother marched over to me and said gently. "Dylan, please come down from there." I continued on my shouting rampage. Then she got angry, "Dylan Jonathon Armstrong, get down from here this instant!" Childishly, I mimicked her as I jumped down. She snatched my hand firmly and dragged me out of the room and into the hall just outside. "I have never seen you behave so disrespectfully! I don't care whether you like Hal or not, but he is your new step-dad, so deal with it. He's moving in with us, and if you don't like that, you can move out. It is time you got back on your feet anyway-she isn't coming back, so you need to move on with your life and stop blaming other people for your problems!"
***
So, What do y'all think so far?!