The Long Walk Down the Aisle

This story is better than it would have been if CreativityTakesCourage hadn't edited it.

A short, sharp one. Enjoy.

*****

"DAVE, WHERE WERE YOU? Why didn't you show up for my wedding rehearsal? Mum has been trying to ring you since six, she's really pissed at you."

"Really? And, exactly where is your mother?"

"She's just gone to drop my dad, well, my bio dad off at his motel."

I didn't miss how Sandy's eyes darted away from mine as she said this. I continued what my stepdaughter's arrival had interrupted, which was removing my Certificate of Commendation from the wall of the lounge.

"What are you doing, Dave? Mum cleaned all those frames not six weeks ago."

I pretty much ignored her and carried the certificate, in its frame, to the kitchen. Sandy followed me and watched as I wrapped it in bubble wrap before packing it into an already loaded box. She whirled, the skirt of her dress floating around her. For a moment the sight transported me back to one of a hundred dance recitals I'd attended during her childhood. Only now she wasn't dancing for her daddy, she was rushing back to the lounge room.

I was just behind her, carrying the completed box. Sandy's mouth was opening and closing like that of a goldfish. I could see it was only now registering with her that all the wall hangings that were uniquely mine were gone from the walls. As were my mementos from the shelves, and if she checked, all my clothes from my wardrobe and tools from the garage. I was out the front door and packing the box on the back seat of my car when I sensed Sandy had followed me and was standing, watching me. She spoke in a small voice. A voice that trembled with the shock of what she was witnessing; an event she'd never even considered before.

"You're leaving us?"

"Yes. You finally noticed. I've been moving stuff out for four days now but neither your mum or you noticed. That should tell you something, shouldn't it?"

I'm sorry Da..., sorry, Dave, I've been a little preoccupied with the wedding. You will be coming, won't you?"

"No, I won't. I thought my not attending the rehearsal tonight would have told you that."

"But why, Dad?"

"Oh, I'm 'Dad' again am I? I stopped being called that three-weeks ago didn't I?"

Sandy shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, and old instincts took over.

"Look, come back inside. It's cold out here."

"I'll just ring Mum first."

"You can try, but I suspect her phone will be turned off."

I walked back into the house, into the lounge and sat on the couch. I heard Sandy on her phone, obviously leaving a voice message for her mum to ring her urgently. She then flopped onto one of the overstuffed armchairs. It seemed to swallow her tiny frame.

I waited for her to order her thoughts and start the conversation. From the look on her face, I surmised she was having trouble knowing where to begin. Finally.

"Why aren't you coming to my wedding?"

"Surely, you must have a clue?"

"No. None."

I could see from the look of bemusement on her face that the extreme self-centredness that comes over many brides had totally blinkered my stepdaughter. That saddened me; I hadn't thought her capable of such self-absorption.

I gave myself a mental shake. I was in a hurry to move on and didn't have time for this and so took over the running of the conversation.

"Sandy, I've loved you since I met you, when you were a chubby little two-year old with permanently grubby fingers. I love you still, and, depending how things go from here, may well love you forever."

I paused to determine how best to continue, then decided to simply follow the format I'd used in the letter nestled in my pocket that I was intending to leave Sandy and her mother.

"When I met your mum, she'd just been dumped by your biological father. We've told you the story often enough. He was a drunkard, and after your mum caught him with another woman for the second time, she threatened to leave him if he didn't promise to change. Instead, he up and left you both. He abandoned you."

I paused to allow Sandy to add anything. She didn't, choosing to just stare at me.

"Your mum lost the house shortly after that because of not being able to make the rent. We met, fell in love, got married, and moved into this house. With my two sons, Mike and Richard, our old place just wasn't big enough. Anyway, I digress. I loved your mum and I loved you. I loved you as if you were my own. The same as I did my biological children. I never hesitated in taking over the responsibility of raising you. I thought I did a pretty good job until a month ago."

Sandy must have recognised the tremble in my voice during that last sentence. It brought her back from wherever she was.

"You were, Dad. You were the best father a girl could have. Many of my friends were jealous of me. They couldn't believe it when I told them you were only my stepfather."

She paused, her hand going to her mouth, covering it, a little shocked by her own words. She realised in approximately two seconds what had crept up on me during the last month. I continued with my script.

"I like the guy you chose as a life partner and was the proudest man in the world when you asked me to walk you down the aisle."

I paused again to let the knowledge of where this conversation was going to seep into her head. I saw clearly when the bulk of it hit her. She averted her face again.

"Yes, Sandy. You never did uninvite me to walk you down that aisle, did you? Your bio dad came back into the picture, and woomp, I'm out, he's in. In both yours and your mother's thoughts and conversations, I'm yesterday's hero. Did you know, she's been so inattentive that she didn't even realise I never rented a suit for tomorrow, like she asked me to?"

Again, I watched as Sandy tried to decide which of the issues I'd raised should be addressed first. I'd seen the look of horror cross her face as she realised she'd forgotten that she'd asked me, the only father she'd known until last month, to give her away on her biggest day. I was sure an apology for that would lead her retort.

I was wrong.

Instead, she confirmed her shallowness by trying to justify it all.

"Da..., Dave. You've met my bio dad. He's larger than life, you must see that. He only came back into my life last month after he heard I was getting married, and it's just been so wonderful. With that flash car of his and the way he's been spoiling me rotten, buying me whatever I looked at twice, he's just..., well, what can I say? We both, well, Mum as well, I suppose, just assumed he'd be walking me down the aisle. I... I'm sorry, I forgot I'd already asked you. It's just that it's been like a whirlwind since he came back."

"Swept you off your feet, did he?"

"Yes. That's exactly what he did. You must admit, he just oozes charisma. I was saying to Mum just today..."

She stopped as she realised what she was about to say and who she was about to say it to. Her face had always been like a shallow pond where even the smallest puff of wind ruffles the surface, soon replaced by the next bit of breeze. Now was no different. Emotion after emotion flitted across her face as the realisation of how much I'd been totally ignored by her in the last month, struck. I watched her process it. I even think I saw the precise moment she realised that her mother had been just as bad. All I'd heard in my own house for the previous month was, 'John did this' or 'John said that'. I'd tried to show them how deeply pissed off by it all I was, but none of it had registered. They were too far under the John-spell.

Yes, I saw his charisma as well. I could see why he was such a good salesman. What I didn't do, unlike my wife and stepdaughter, was fall for any of it. They were totally blind the three times I'd pointed out his broken promises. The final straw was four days ago, when I'd found out that I wasn't to walk Sandy down the aisle. That discovery was only made when I overheard them talking about who would be where in the church. My name wasn't even mentioned. Rather than deciding to turn up and hope there was a seat for me in the front pew, I'd started packing.

I thought I'd begin letting Sandy down gently so future facts learned didn't come as such a shock.

"You realise he's still a lying, cheating philanderer, don't you? You know he's still exactly the same scumbag that abandoned you and your mum twenty-years ago, right? He ran out on you then, and as soon as he gets what he wants this time, he'll abandon you again."

"Oh, don't be so sour Dad, um, Dave. Yes, I'm sorry I forgot to tell you that my bio dad was walking me down the aisle. That's my fault, not his. Don't take it out on him and call him all sorts of nasty names. What evidence do you have that he's still a philanderer?"

I rehearsed my reply in my head one more time. I dreaded the response I would get to my next question. I knew my twenty-year marriage was dead. Had I lost a daughter as well? Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound as they used to say.

"Where is your mum?"

I didn't have to hold my breath for long. Sandy's eyes flicked away from me for a long pause. Then they kept flicking back and forth, as she asked herself how deep my question was. Had I deliberately linked the question of why I thought her bio dad was still a philanderer with where her mother was? There was no doubt. Sandy knew. All that remained was the execution.

"Just so we don't end our twenty-year association with a bunch of lies, and preserve what memories of a relationship of mutual respect we can, I'll tell you something. I found the condoms in your mum's purse this morning. Purchased, no doubt, with tonight in mind. I had a vasectomy before I met her, so they weren't for me, obviously. And I know you're on the pill, so they weren't for you. I'm glad to say the packet wasn't opened so she probably hadn't slept with him yet, but buying a packet twenty-four hours in advance does indicate intent, don't you think?

"I can see by your face that this news doesn't come as a surprise to you, so I can only conclude, you are complicit in your mother betraying me and our wedding vows by sleeping with that slimy little prick. What did you think? That it was romantic? That, just like a fairy tale, your mummy and daddy were getting back together, and you could play happy families? Start married life with a Porsche in the driveway rather than the Nissan I bought you?"

Sandy opened her mouth as if to answer. I held up my hand, cutting her off.

"Don't bother. Forget, I asked. The answer doesn't matter. That fact that you were aware and said and did nothing to let me know, ends our relationship right here and now."

I rose, stepped toward her, pulled her to her feet and hugged her. Stifling back all the emotion I hadn't already vented that day and over the month previous, I said my final words to her.

"I loved you."

With that, I walked out of her life. Glancing back from the door, I saw the look of utter devastation marring her pretty face as she stared after me. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Gulping and gasping, she frantically scrabbled for her phone. I guessed it was in the desperate hope that her mother had turned hers back on. That her mum hadn't physically committed adultery yet. That her mother could use that as a reason to convince me to forgive her.

All so Sandy wouldn't lose her 'other dad.'

The 'dad' whose desperate cries over the last month for his wife to stop falling out of love with him had gone completely unheeded. While she re-fell for a glib salesman with a history. I shrugged. Whether my wife had physically crossed the line or not, the condoms I'd stumbled on purely by accident that morning, were enough for me. I'd actually been planning to move out for just a little while to show the magnitude of my displeasure over the events of the last month. The morning discovery told me I'd misjudged how bad things were and pushed me to accept, over a series of painful hours, that the move was permanent.

I examined my conscience. It was completely clear. I jumped in my car and drove away.

*****

Epilogue

SOME OF THE FOLLOWING is fact, some is hearsay. The story isn't complete without both.

I'd spent some time the day of the rehearsal trying to find out what motel Shithead was staying at. My motivation? I wanted to witness my wife's transgression personally. To harden my heart to do what I knew had to be done. My efforts were in vain.

Instead, I opted for Plan B. After leaving Sandy, I parked down the road from my house of twenty-years and turned the lights off. Sure enough, less than a minute later, my former daughter came screaming past in her car. A herd of elephants could have followed her unobserved.

She drove straight to a particular motel and dashed straight to a particular room. I wasn't too far behind her with my trusty old SLR camera with its zoom lens. With Sandy's shouts, it was her mother who opened the door. I was mentally prepared, or so I thought, for the sight that greeted me. Strangely, it wasn't the sight of Laura in a hastily thrown on motel dressing gown, complete with messed up hair, with her ex-husband in boxers standing behind her that bothered me. No. What got me was the look of panic that suffused her face as Sandy spoke. I'd spent twenty-years protecting her from emotions like that. It is habit forming. I threw my camera onto the passenger seat, turned off my phone, and drove off into the night after Sandy was admitted to the room and the door closed.

My knowledge of events in the immediate aftermath of the above was garnered from various sources.

The wedding did occur the next day, but at 6:00 p.m., not the scheduled 10:00 a.m. First, the mother of the bride had to be located. She'd spent the night looking frantically for me and fallen asleep exhausted. Next, valuable time was spent trying to locate the bio father of the bride, but he'd done a runner. As I'd told Sandy, as soon as he got what he wanted, he was off.

I did wonder at his motivation for it all. My research on him showed he and his second wife never had children. Maybe, he wanted to experience walking his child down the aisle. Some people just like to collect life's experiences. My guess is that he saw Laura was still an attractive woman and wanted her. A pork down memory lane perhaps. Or maybe it was simply an ego trip. Being a self-centred personality, he just turned on the charm and pursued her till she gave in. Just like I'd warned her he was doing. When the going got hot and he'd emptied his balls, he was off.

It was possibly the most expensive fuck of his life. Before he'd had the chance to get home, several photos were in his wife's email inbox. She dumped him, enforcing her prenup with extreme prejudice. She ended up taking over her father's company without him at her side. Rumour had it that he was found badly beaten, with ruined balls, in an alley a week or so later. Rumour also had it that his father-in-law always looked after his only daughter and never liked the slimeball.

Whatever, by the time the bridal party concluded he was gone, they'd missed the window at the church. The vicar kindly re-scheduled for 6:00 p.m.

I'll never know at what point Laura found all the stitching had been unpicked on the dress she planned to wear to the event. It would have fallen to pieces in her hands, just as our marriage had done, at her hands.

I ignored all contact from Laura and Sandy as I continued the process of falling out of love with both of them. They both bombarded my voicemail with pleas for me to come back but that bridge was well and truly burnt. As expected, Laura left a long message to say she'd just gone into John's motel room after dropping him off and all they'd done was talk. The condoms in her purse had been for a novelty gag at the reception. Two photos, sent via email unequivocally revealed those to be the lies they were.

The first was of her standing in the doorway of the motel, with her left breast exposed in the hastily tied dressing gown. The second was a zoom of the same photo, highlighting what was almost certainly semi-dried cum matting the hair of her fringe.

A simple reply of 'Sorry' prompted me to ask her, for the sake of preserving our memories, not to contact me again. She respected that on the whole and now just wishes me well every now and then. Family gossip tells me she's having trouble moving on and still hasn't dated. I made a minimum offer in the divorce and she accepted it with good grace.

Me, I holed up at my younger son's house for a while, with my car hidden in his garage. He and my eldest also refused calls from their stepmother. They could see how hurt I was. Sandy's new groom did hunt me down successfully and I agreed to talk as I liked him. He convinced me that Sandy had tried to talk her mother out of her planned tryst, but John's spell was too powerful. We still catch up occasionally. Apparently, the relationship between mother and daughter is still strained. Whether from Sandy blaming Laura for causing the loss of both her fathers or from her new husband's reticence to allow his mother-in-law in the house, I'll never know. I will probably mostly forgive her one day. My sons already have, and her new husband is begging me to.

If the hurt wasn't still fresh, I may have been devastated at the story of Sandy walking alone down the aisle of the church while her mother, already seated, looked on; haggard, with tears still cutting runnels in her makeup. The groom couldn't remember if there were one or two empty seats next to her on the front pew. My interest was purely academic anyway.

In the time between the scheduled and actual weddings, he'd pumped Sandy pretty hard on her actions and thoughts surrounding her mother's mistake. He eventually concluded it might serve him well to have a bride who'd had the consequences of infidelity smashed into her face and threw all his energy into getting all the guests back for the delayed ceremony. Word got out, however, and apparently Laura lasted less than half an hour at the reception. The accusing stares from both sides lancing her soul. Today, I still wonder if she was more sorry for losing me or completely ruining her daughter's big day.

Me? I moped around for several months, completing the process of grieving but fearing I'd never trust a woman ever again.

Then I met Belinda.

Ironically, she was the widowed mother of Richard's fiancé and I met her when she came over to pre-plan her daughter's wedding twelve months after my split. The connection was instant and matters of trust were soon relegated to the scrap heap. I'd been one of those people that rubbished the idea of 'soul mates' until I met mine. I examined myself for any residual feelings. There were close to none. The process, started by Laura, was complete.

What the hell? Carpe mulieris. Seize the woman. Within four weeks, I'd moved into Belinda's place and I knew this was the woman I'd grow old with. Fortunately, her children welcomed me into her family with open arms.

Today, her daughter asked me to walk her down the aisle. Even that didn't dent the inane grin that makes my face ache most days.

Finis

Now lighten the fuck up.

I spent a couple of hours defrosting the fridge last night.

Or "foreplay" as my wife likes to call it.