My Father's Best Man

Chapter 2

All the glow-in-the-dark stickers above my bed had already lost their shine. They were there since I was six. It was my sister's idea to put them up there. She found the ladder from the garage, and I was supposed to put the stickers on. I fell and cracked my head instead. My mother came in and found me crying on the floor. Then my father rushed us to the hospital right away. After we came back, my sister had already finished putting up all the constellations, despite my mother ordered her not to do so.

My sister left early today to go back to Chicago. I was supposed to drive her to the airport, but she decided to let me sleep in instead. All I saw when I woke up was a sticky note on my door, telling me that there was an omelet in our microwave. We kept our food in the microwave because her cat used to eat the leftovers on the counter. Her cat died when she was in college. And my dog died when I was away for my jazz competition. My father was now gone on his honeymoon. Our house was now empty.

I didn't have a lot to do this summer. There were only a few forms I needed to fill out for this fall. Boston wasn't my first choice, but I didn't get in to Columbia, and there was no way I was going to settle for Boulder. I didn't know why my father even asked me to apply there. It was the closest university around, or at least the only one worth applying to, but it was still hours away, so I wouldn't be able to commute from home anyway.

This was my last summer before college; I should be making the most out of it, but I didn't feel like doing anything. Every day, I would wake up, browse the internet, eat whatever was in the fridge and wait till my eyes were tired enough to go back to sleep again.

My home felt so foreign to me. The backyard where I fell multiple times while chasing my dog was still the same, but my memories then were more vivid than the actual place in front of me now. Everything looked so desaturated. Or maybe it was because it was still early, so my vision was still disoriented by the morning mist. I couldn't see the creek from this far, but I could make out the silhouette of the oak tree near by; that was where my father buried my dog.

My dog's grave was a constant reminder that I should just stay inside my room. There was always a bad memory somewhere around this house. It was fourth grade that I came home with a black eye. My mom saw me from the kitchen, and her first reaction was to take me out of Mrs. Wilson's class. She didn't think I knew how to stand up for myself, and she was afraid something like that would happen again. She was the one who taught me to turn the other cheek; apparently I took that phrase too literally.

I was home-schooled for about a year, and then someone in her moms' group suggested private school as another option. My mom was quite gullible. As long as you could present a case, she would most likely believe you. She did that when she was diagnosed with stage four cancer. She ordered all those Asian herbs on the infomercials. None of them worked.

I still couldn't help myself but to wonder, if I didn't cry that day, if I actually punched Casey back, would she have sent me away? Would this house feel as distant now?

Strolling through our house, I was able to find bits and pieces of the memories that I forgot. The old photo albums under the coffee table had my parents' memories sealed behind the plastic sleeves. The electronic frame next to the TV had my father's new life sliding by. And seeing the stack of leftover wedding invitations on their new settee, I was reminded that this wasn't my home anymore.

A different wedding invitation next to their stack grabbed my attention. There was a sticky note on top: "Remember to give this to Michael." My father obviously forgot. The postmark on the invitation showed that it arrived a month ago.

It was an invitation from Brooke!

I had forgotten her face... I had blocked her out of my head. I was able to stay away from her Instagram account for more than a year, but seeing her wedding invitation in my hand, all of my feelings came pouring back...

She was a sophomore in college when we first met. But I had just gone through my growth spurt, so I was a bit taller. We were never officially together, or at least not in her eyes, but back then, I thought I was going to marry her...

It was probably not meant to be. Maybe I never had a chance. But I was so sure then... What went wrong...?

Going through her Facebook timeline, I could see that I was definitely the different "ex" among her exes. Maybe that was what drew her to me in the first place. I was fresh, different. But after my novelty wore off, she went straight back to what was familiar to her, the Abercrombie & Fitch model type.

It was probably a mistake, but I decided to go. In my mind, I was thinking, maybe seeing her one last time, I could remind myself why things didn't work out. Maybe seeing her commit herself to someone else, I could finally move on... But honestly, I was probably hoping she would change her mind at the altar, that she would run away with me like in the movies.