I am sitting on my fancy white chair, on what is supposed to be the best day of my life, a day my parents and in-laws paid thousands of dollars for, and all I can think about is leaving.
I pick at the weird chicken they served me 10 minutes earlier. I look over at Derek, he's almost done with his dinner. I can hear parts of conversation that are going on around me. Old aunties and uncles catching up, their Guyanese accents stronger than I had ever heard, laughter booming when they tell their childhood stories.
I hear not-so-quiet whispers about my dress colour. Assumptions about my virginity from people I barely knew. I don't understand their insistence on keeping the traditions of another religion.
"She could've show we the dress before she pick that", my auntie says, "and meh nah understand why she cyan just wear white, that, what she have on, is not right". I don't think she realizes just how close she is to me.
Derek leans over, "want a coke?", he ask. I nod, "and henny?" I add. He chuckles and walks over to the bar.
My older cousins, Mira and Mikayla, walk over to me from the bridesmaid table. "Sooo, how do you feel?" Mira asks. I took a breathe, "I want to leave"
Mikayla's face turned dead serious, "I'll drive, let's go get gas station slushies". Her sister smacks her shoulder, "Mikayla, don't be fucking stupid, this is her wedding".
Mikayla was a victim of oldest-daughter-of-immigrant-parents syndrome. I am as well, but I never gave into it as much as she did. The two of them have always acted like my sisters, so I ended up with some spoiled-youngest-child qualities. So, when my parents say things like, "These people are you're family Maya," it does not mean as much to me as it would to her.
I giggle at their little argument, I had witnessed many of them before. "I'd love that, but I spent way too much money on this to leave," I tell them.
Just then, Derek comes back to the table and Mikayla starts fake arguing with him, something she does with all boyfriends in the family. I take a sip of my drink, staring out at the crowed. I sigh and let my thoughts drift while drowning out the background noise.
I wish I had gone with my gut and eloped.
YOU ARE READING
𝑶𝑯 𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬𝒀. short stories
Random" will you remember my name? i've gone away, but i'll be back again. " a collection of short stories i write when i get bored. ( title from "oh honey" by the peach tree rascals )
