My Father's Best Man

Chapter 10

From outside the pavilion, I could see the spotlight shining down on her as she twirled from table to table; Carter was more like a prop on their first dance. I had to admit, she was a lot better since that recital.

I wanted to leave, but I was still trying to sober up from the champagne the waiter passed out earlier. A few of Brooke's friends were at the designated smoking area. I recognized one of them from the fair. She was gossiping about Brooke and her ex behind their backs.

"So when Chad heard about the engagement, he wrote another short, trying to get Brooke to star in it."

"Did she do it?"

"No! Of course not."

"She probably thought about it, though."

"Maybe. I swear... film majors are the worst."

I smirked on the side. That made them notice me.

"Hey. Don't be an eavesdropper. Come join us."

She offered me a cigarette. I declined.

"So you're Carter's friend?"

The guy in the blue blazer decided to chime in.

"No."

"How come we don't know you? Did we go to the same college?"

"No. Brooke... and I grew together. She used to babysit me."

I decided to go with that lie, to be more consistent.

"Wow! That's crazy. You flew out here from Utah?"

"I drove."

Since my truck was behind a lot of cars, they wouldn't be able to see my license plate from here. I decided to sprinkle in a little bit of truth to make my backstory a bit more believable.

"That's dedication right there."

For the next few minutes, they continued to bitch about the people who weren't here and tried to pry on Brooke's past. I had no idea what Brooke was like when she was young, so I kept my answers short.

I didn't know why Brooke invited them to her wedding. They seemed judgmental and petty. But they were probably the cool kids back in school.

In some way, I was happy for Brooke. At least she didn't marry a prick, that she could move on from all this. With a new life ahead, new couple friends to be made, she could have a fresh start. I would fade with all the unwanted toxic relationships like the cigarette ashes on the ground.

I still wanted closure though. After she stopped talking to me, I wrote this long message, triple checked it and read out twice before I sent it, essentially telling her that it was dumb for her to get into a relationship to try to fill up that void, that repeating the same old pattern won't change the past or the future, basically telling her to grow the hell up! In hindsight, I probably wrote that for myself. But at the time, I was just trying to stir up her emotions, so we could talk again. She never replied.

"Oh, they're about to do the bouquet tossing!"

Her blonde friend stood up and wiped the dusts off her butt.

"If I catch this one, this'll be my third!"

"It's true. She has two hanging off of the cabinet."

They all got up and started walking towards the reception area. I could feel my senses coming back; the numbness from the sparkling fruity drink was dwindling.

"You're not coming?"

"No... I think I'm gonna go."

"What...? The garter tossing's next."

I just shook my head.

"Well, I'm Delilah, by the way. You have an Instagram account?"

I thought I was sober, but I probably wasn't, because instead of shaking her hand and offering up my name, I took the conversation in a whole another direction...

"You're parents named you Delilah? After the bitch who betrayed Samson?"

"What...?"

She looked shocked, and her male friends jumped in immediately.

"Whoa, whoa! What's going on?"

"No, I'm not trying to offend anyone. It's just... weird. She betrayed Samson. She's the one who got him killed. In the Bible. It's like naming your kid Judas."

"Oh... You're one of those religious freaks..."

"No. I'm not religious. I mean... I guess it depends on how you define being religious." They continue to glare at me. I couldn't back-paddle out, so I doubled down.

"Well... Yes. I believe in a God, if that's what you mean."

I stood my ground and was hoping to get into a debate about religion and the nature of beliefs. I had the perfect analogy planned out, of how religion is a lot like music. I was going to use jazz as an example. But they just walked away, mumbling to each other about the weird people in Utah. I was left alone by the empty ash bucket.

I didn't know why I made a fool of myself back there. On my way to my truck, I came to the conclusion that I wanted someone to punch me in the face. I wanted something dramatic, something big to end this chapter of my life. I didn't want to just let this particular memory brush by.

Since I couldn't get it from them, I decided to do it myself. I pulled out my phone and scrolled all the way down. Brooke's contact info was buried on the bottom.

I texted her: "I'm sorry,"  then I blocked her, putting down that period myself.