Second Time Around

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Authors: Darrin Lowery

BOOK: Second Time Around
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Second Time Around
 
 
Darrin Lowery
 
 
 
 
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Acknowledgments
I would like to say thank you to Carl and Natalie Weber, Brenda Hampton, my readers, my colleagues at Hull House Association and the JTDC Phoenix Center, my friends from the block and my friends in the writing game, but especially K'wan who has been like a mentor to me, Monica Marie Jones with her Monday Morning Motivation, Michael Baisden, Eric Jerome Dickey, Travis Hunter, E. Lynn Harris (RIP), Lissa Woodson, Victoria Christopher Murray, Nichelle Walker, Ms. Toni, Shannon Holmes, Marc Gerald, Verl and Leesa from Da Book Joint, OOSA Online Book Club, Sugar and Spice Book Club, Readers Paradise Book Club, Reading Rendezvous Book Club, Nikki Woods, Common, Twista, Devonshe Person, Rawsistaz, Deon Cole, Donovan McNabb, Derek Rose, Karrine Steffans, The Ladies of RAGE Book Club, The Ladies of Dolce Vita, Linda Davis, Brandi Higa, Carmen Buick, Jo Oliver, Earl Sewell, Leslie Swanson, The Smith Family, The Gandy Family, Lisa Thomas, my TAGGED Friends, Facebook friends and everyone that has ever supported me in this writing game.
Chapter One
She and her closest friends, Eula, Jayna, Elise, and Tatiana were done with the final touches of her makeup. Her full-skirt wedding gown was only missing her veil. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time as her girlfriends helped her put it on. She smiled to herself as she looked at her own reflection. I'm ready. My day is here and I am finally ready, she thought to herself.
Her bridesmaids moved the long train to the rear so she could walk. Her dress gave balance to her ample rear end and her curves, while still accentuating her bustline.
Prior to today she practiced how to walk in her shoes, how to smile, how to hold back tears, and how to do every tip she had seen at every bridal expo and read in every bridal magazine. Practice makes perfect, she thought. She needed today to be perfect.
Her makeup was flawless. The makeup artist did a remarkable job. Her hair was tightly done in an up-do. Her neckline sported classic pearls with matching earrings. She tried her best to maintain her breathing and, at the same time, she resisted the urge to cry. It took forty-five minutes to apply her makeup and she didn't want to ruin it.
In a few minutes she would be at the chapel door. In twenty, she would be married to the man of her dreams. Tomorrow would mark the first day of the rest of her life.
She hugged her girlfriends a final time and they each took photos. They tried to hide their tears as well. Each of them wished they were her. Each one of them quietly wondered to themselves when their day would come. Each of her bridesmaids was beautiful. They were stunning black women. Their dresses complemented hers. Their curves rivaled hers, but there was no doubt about it: Today was her day. Not only that, but she was clearly the most beautiful of brides on her special day.
Her half of the wedding party smiled as the usher came to get them to tell them it was time. The ladies made the final touches on the bride before escorting her to the grand oak doors of the cathedral. Side by side they walked, like ladies on a mission. As they reached the doors they each took their places ahead of her and prepared to walk in.
 
 
“You ready?” Jayna asked.
“I am,” she said.
The usher was told that the bridesmaids were ready to walk in. Slowly but surely each of her friends walked ahead of her toward the altar. She stood off to the side so she wouldn't be seen. The bridesmaids made their trek down the aisle. Jayna was the last to go. She whispered to the bride before walking down the aisle. Her best friend always had to have the last word.
“I'm proud of you and so very happy for you. I love you, girl.”
“Thank you. I love you too. Thanks for having my back.”
“That's what best friends are for. Now let's do this. We need to get you married,” she said with a smile.
 
 
The doors closed a second time and they would only open once more. After that, she would be a married woman. These were her last moments of being single. She couldn't wait for them to be over. She had grown tired of immature men, men who didn't work, men who didn't know their own potential, and she tired of the drama and games. She was ready to be married. She was ready to be happy. She was ready to exhale. She smiled to herself and thanked God that her day had finally arrived.
She exhaled as the doors opened again and once again she had to fight back tears. “Here and Now” by the late, great Luther Vandross was playing. She made her way to him. Each step was careful. Each step was graceful. Each step took her closer to happily-ever-after.
The cathedral was crowded and everyone stood in her honor. People gasped and whispered as she walked by. Many of her guests commented as to how stunning she looked. Other women held back tears of joy.
With each step she took she felt liberated, happy. She walked slowly and gracefully down the aisle and smiled at the man waiting for her at the other end. He was handsome and regal. Any nervousness she had was quelled at the very sight of him. His smile put her at peace. She was a vision of loveliness. She walked to him and took his outstretched hand.
He smiled at her as she made it to his side. He was the luckiest man in the world and he knew it.
“Are you ready to do this?” he asked quietly with a smile.
“I am ready. I'm ready to marry you.”
She smiled so hard that her high cheekbones were flush red. Happiness was written all over her face. The doors to the cathedral closed behind them and everyone sat down as the ceremony began.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this day to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. They say that he who finds a wife finds a good thing and—”
His speech was interrupted by heavy footfalls on the tiled floors of the foyer. The sounds were so loud that everyone in the church heard them. The footfalls were as loud as the trot of a horse, but were clearly the footfalls of a man.
There was a sound of chaos on the opposite side of the closed doors. There was noise, as if someone was arguing with the usher. Soon after, the sound of a body falling against the cathedral doors was made. It was a sound that suggested the usher had been pushed against the door and out of the person's way.
Everyone in the cathedral had a shocked look on their faces. Everyone wondered what the source of the chaos was. Just as suddenly as the noise started, it stopped. The footfalls ceased.
The church was overrun with whispers and everyone looked from the doors back to the altar where she stood alongside her soon-to-be husband. There was confusion as to what would happen next, but her fiancé urged the clergyman to continue the ceremony.
She kept looking back at the doors. She didn't know what or who was on the other side. Whatever or whoever it was had her heart racing with fear. Something wasn't right. She could feel it in her heart. Still, today was her day. She turned to face the priest again. She turned and faced him so that she could be married.
Fearfully and with concern, the priest started again.
“He who finds a wife finds a good thing. We are here this day in front of friends, family and the almighty, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. It is said that—”
Again, heavy footfalls were heard. Again, the priest gave a moment of pause. The light beneath the door revealed the shadow of a man's feet on the opposite side. Someone was standing there. Someone who had no intention of leaving.
There was a knock on the church doors. It was a resounding knock that sounded as if God himself was on the other side. No one moved and the entire cathedral looked in the direction of the closed doors. Everyone looked back at her. She felt frozen in time. She felt frozen with fear.
The knocking stopped and then started again. It was three hard and loud knocks. They weren't knocks requesting permission to enter so much as they were knocks announcing one's presence.
When no one made an attempt to answer, the screeching sound of the doors opening again announced his presence. The doors were forced open and on the other side was a man with a look of defiance on his face. His looks reeked of defiance as well as anger.
Her ex-boyfriend was on the other side. He headed down the aisle toward her. His every stride was deliberate. His footfalls were heavy. The look on his face said that he was ending this madness . . . now.
Her heart skipped a beat. This couldn't be happening. His being here took her breath away. Her face was riddled with confusion and anger. The problem was, part of her was happy to see him. Part of her was relieved to see him. But he was too late; this was her wedding day. He had no right to be here. He had no right to interfere with her happiness. She turned to face her fiancé and the priest. His footsteps became louder as he approached them. She kept her back to him and said a brief prayer asking God to forgive this madness.
She turned to face her fiancé. She gave him a look that said he should do something. She wanted him to confront her ex. She wanted him to tell her ex to leave. She turned to speak to him; to direct him to stop him before her perfect day would be ruined.
Her fiancé was gone.
She turned back around and her ex was gone.
The church was empty.
The doors were again closed.
Her dress was all that she had left and it was old and in shreds. It had a yellowish tinge to it, as if to imply that it was ages old. She was alone. The man of her future was gone along with her ex, the man from her past.
She was alone. Alone in the world and, it seemed, trapped in the church. She sat at the altar alone and slowly began to cry. She no longer wanted to be alone. She wanted to be married. She wanted to be loved.
There was a second knock at the closed doors. She stopped crying and looked in the direction of the doors. The knocking was insistent. Someone was on the other side, trying to get in. Perhaps it was her fiancé, perhaps it was her ex. In either case, once she opened the doors she would no longer be alone. She ran to the doors as the knocking continued. She was just about to open them when a blinding light made its way into the church through the stained-glass windows.

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