Chapter 2: The Wedding

Emylia is caught up in feelings she understands but cannot contain while on a date with Jonathan

In the days leading up to my aunt’s wedding, things took a much unexpected turn. I had a few intimate moments with David, and at this point I feel like he’s starting to like me. My mind was going a million miles an hour, every second I thought about him. Being with him and the flirty relationship that we have is something special. But the thing I was missing that I wanted to feel was the butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have them. All I knew was he makes me happy, even though I’ve seen how he’s handling this before . . . I usually ended up being let down. I’m putting all of my cards in and we’ll see what happens . . . but part of me was saying that as soon as the semester ends so will everything with him.

Now that things have taken a sexual turn, I can’t let him go. The thought of letting a guy know what I look like physically exposed and emotionally open, and then leaving me is incredibly terrifying. It’s happened and that’s why I haven’t taken that step with anyone since then . . . until now. I have considered the fact that I only like him for that reason . . . and I will admit it’s a possibility that I don’t want to be true, but more than likely is.

I just want to forget about everything with David for my aunt’s wedding. He wasn’t even my date for today, and it’s not fair to be thinking about someone else when you’re on a date.

Of course my date, Jonathan, was the last thing on my mind. I’m more concerned about what I’m wearing and my hair that I (on a limb) dyed red and I had sage dress . . . it wouldn’t look so bad if I didn’t have this God awful headband to wear with it. It was a big white bow . . . 

My aunts wedding was in my grandparent’s backyard which was on a cliff overlooking the Big Thompson River with the Rocky Mountains in the background. We ended up doing pictures before the wedding (yes breaking tradition of the bride and groom not seeing each other before the ceremony).

During that time, guests slowly started to show up, including my date, Jonathan, who was the first guest to arrive. You could pick him out of a crowd. He was the cute, gentleman cowboy in black. But he was going to stick out like a sore thumb. He was very open and out-spoken compared to my stuffy, silent family. I knew they would judge him harshly, and I was, for some reason, scared they’ll reject him based on that. I hope his dancing skills will make up for it.

First thing he said to me was, “Wow, darling! You look beautiful.”

It was sweet. It made my heart flutter a bit, but it went away when my grandpa said I had to go up to the 1959 Chevrolet Apache to be driven around the driveway that circled the house, back down to the aisle (it’s all about appearance says my “nanny”) which was where we were already.

After performing the terribly clique entrance, awkwardly walking down the short aisle, and watching the weird ceremony that my aunt/nanny always dreamed of, I was finally able to get out of that green dress and painful heels. It felt really good to finally get into boots (bling boots, not ideal but better than heels). I was just ready to dance.

During dinner I had to sit with the family. I felt bad leaving Jonathan to fend for himself with people like my aunt’s friends. They aren’t the nicest people if you r don’t give into their petty parties, which might be why they don’t like me or my dad that much, but I knew Jonathan didn’t like petty parties either.

It almost took forever for the dancing to start. My aunt decided to hire a dance instructor that only taught the waltz. So watching him teach was entertaining . . . for all of the wrong reasons. He wore a piano-player coat and stuck his nose up to Jonathan and me when we danced.

When we could finally dance like normal (to us), we danced. Jonathan became the man on the dancefloor that was teaching all of the women how to swing like us. I was very impressed with how he handled the stuffy family members as well as my flirty, female members. I couldn’t understand why I was actually feeling something for him. Maybe it was the wedding atmosphere or gratitude. There’s no way it’s real. He’s too young for me. If he was older I’d be all over that, but he was only sixteen and I’m eighteen right now. It wouldn’t work very well with us being in two different stages in life. Maybe in the future . . . but normally if I make a guy wait, he moves on right away to someone prettier and “sluttier” I guess you could say. Part of me didn’t want that with him, but the other part kept saying it wouldn’t work, logically David was a better choice . . . and now that he and I have had . . . relations . . . I can’t drop it until I know I’ll never see him again . . . I can’t handle seeing someone I’ve had relations with if we’re not involved, especially since we go to school together. It’s really only happened one other time, but still. It’s scary for me. I just keep thinking about how this guy has seen me at my absolute most exposed, and we’re in the same room . . . for all I know thoughts could be reoccurring of it, and I don’t want that when I’m around. I know it may sound like I’m over-reacting to something, but I’m one of those girls that has been exposed a lot before and now that I have . . . the thought of other guys having that image terrifies me. I hate it. This is my body, and I wish I was the only one who’s ever seen it.

Of course these thoughts were occurring the whole night, until we were cleaning up after the wedding and . . .  well . . . my dad was so tired he slammed into the screen door. It was hysterical, but I knew if I laughed as hard as Jonathan did, I’d get yelled at like a kid. It sure lightened my mood a bit, but then I realized I had work in the morning.