Before He Cheats

Many people, when extremely happy, will say that they’re having, ‘the best day of their life’. But for me, today that is literal. Two years ago, I met a guy at the bar. I had just been in a serious relationship for five years, and it had ended in the worst heartbreak. He offered to buy me a drink. I decided to use his flirtatious personality to save me some money, and so I said yes. After getting extremely drunk, I went back to his place, where I fell asleep on the couch after spilling Vodka all over myself. The next morning, I woke to a nostalgic smell that I had forgotten about. This man- who I then realized was a complete stranger- had made me bacon and eggs. (And of course given me some Advil to help with the hangover). I was seemingly grumpy to him, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I figured someone as cute as you should wake up to a nice breakfast.” He gave me a flashy smile as he slid me a plate with some delicious looking scrambled eggs.

“And I figured someone as flirtatious as you would have the sense of mind not to let me stay the night. You don’t even know my name. You know now I’m going to be coming over all the time for bacon and eggs.” I said this in a sarcastic tone, but let a small grin slip before returning to being impassive. 

“And for some reason, I wouldn’t mind that. What is your name?” I tell him it’s Topanga. The way that he didn’t seem to mind my personality, the way that he seemed to want to care for me, was so charming. I wasn’t in the mood for a real relationship, but hey, a fling sounded like just the thing I needed to get over my breakup. 

After just a week, I had spent the night at least three times, and realized that I may have realistic feelings for him. (After learning his name was Terrance, of course). At first, I reprimanded myself for this. I shouldn’t be in such a stable position so soon. But I couldn’t help it. We started dating after just a month, and things just went fast from there. Now, here I am, putting on my wedding dress with the biggest smile on my face, not a doubt in my mind that I would spend the rest of my life with Terrance. 

“What do you think you’ll do for your honeymoon?” My best friend Analise questions as she tightens the back of my dress. She’s going to be my bridesmaid, as we’ve been friends since middle school. 

“We were talking about Fiji; he knows I’ve always wanted to go there,” I smile to myself, “he’s so thoughtful.” I see her smile behind me in the mirror.

“All done!” she says. I take a second to really look at the dress. A fair amount of the time, I’m insecure about different things- my nose, for instant, is too big for my lips, and my eyebrows don’t seem to match my hair colour. Or maybe the fact that I’m skinny, but don’t have a small waist. Staring at myself in the mirror, however, I have to admit- I look almost breathtaking. Terrance will probably drop dead seeing how beautiful I look. My dress is a soft pink, but so light that it almost looks white. At the bottom, it swirls in intricate designs. It’s strapless, with a small pink rose centred in the very middle of my chest, as though holding it all together. My brown hair is laying on my shoulders, professionally curled for such a special day. I look into my chestnut eyes and tell myself that this is exactly what I want- and I believe myself. Analise seems to be looking at me with such awe, I have to chuckle and deliver a slight punch to the shoulder.

“Close your mouth, Ana, you’re going to drool.” She quickly shuts her mouth and smiles tenderly. Her amber hair is done up fancily, in a messy but elegant bun in the very middle of her head. Her dress matches mine in colour, with a smaller rose in the very middle. She’s a bit shorter than me, but we always joke that it’s cute. I sigh- however much that dress will allow me to do so- and get ready to walk out the door. This is my dream come true. A fairy tale wedding. And then a nightmare- I have to go to the bathroom. I bang my head on the doorframe and tell Analise. 

“Just wait for me here, I’ll be back in a minute.” She says okay and I speed-walk out the door. I look for the nearest bathroom- and right now I actually don’t care if it’s men’s or women’s. I see a sign ahead that says bathrooms and run into the ladies. What I see when I open that door is something I can’t un-see, no matter what. 

            I take a step back, my mouth open. Tears start to fill my eyes instantly. I look at my fiancé’s suit, how it has obviously been fitted perfectly. His shiny black shoes, that must be new. His hair has been cut and shaped and makes him look sexier than normal. And then my eyes drift to the person next to him. She wears a light pink dress. Her hair is tied with a rose clip. Her eyes are the same as mine, but a lighter chestnut colour. And I realize that it’s not a dream; my fiancé is kissing my mother. 

            Once I open the door, it takes a few seconds for them to realize that someone walked in. Quickly they separate, and then stare at the person who walked in the door. Upon realizing that it’s me, both of their mouths drop open. My mother lets out a small gasp and my once-soon-to-be husband shifts his eyes to his feet. 

            “Topanga, I-” I cut my mother off, ending her sentence with a simple raise of my hand. I walk up towards her, letting the bathroom door shut closed. I send a rage-filled look towards Terrance and then look at my mother, who is shorter than me at a mere 5’3. 

            “I know what I just saw. There is nothing you could possibly do to fix this. And so you are no longer my mother.” She lifts her hand as if to reach out for me, and I spit on her shoes. She looks at me in shock and then decides she must deserve it, for she puts her hand down. 

            “And you,” I narrow in on Terrance, “have the audacity. The audacity to sleep in the same bed as me, tell me you love me, have sex with me, live in the same house as me, and kiss my mother. Tell me, were you doing these things with her, too?” I wait only three seconds before talking again. “I SAID, WERE YOU DOING THESE THINGS WITH HER TOO?” I scream at him in fury. He finally looks up at me, with a pitiful look, and answers, “We only had sex once.” I narrow my eyebrows now. I won’t let them see one tear that I shed. I simply look at him, raise my own hand, and slap him hard in the face. And I made sure that it hurt. He grabs his cheek, which had turned bright red on contact. Then I turn and walk out the door with my chin up. My face is starting to get red, I can feel it, but I can’t cry until what I’m about to do next is over. I burst into the room where I should have been walking down the isle and everyone turns to look at me in confusion. I storm up to the stand where the priest is waiting, and then look at the crowd.

            “I just caught my fiancé kissing another woman.” Everyone in the room gasps. “But on top of that, that woman was once my mother.” Now some people let out little shouts of outrage. “This wedding is canceled, and shall never be rescheduled so long as I shall live.” One girl shouts out, “Good for you girl!” and I don’t say anything as I walk down the isle and out the doors again. I shut them hard behind me, then go back to the room where Analise was waiting. She’s the only one that I’ll let see me cry. I burst into the room, slamming the door fast and hard. She jumps out of her seat, dropping her phone. I put my face in my hands and slide down the door, sobbing uncontrollably. 

            Topanga, what’s wrong?”she sits down right in front of me, taking my hands in hers. I get a glance of my face in the mirror and cry harder, sending more mascara down my cheeks. 

            “Terrance kissed my mother,” is all that I can manage to get out before I start hyperventilating. She looks puzzled as the thought sinks in. Then a look of rage, that almost matches mine, spreads across her face. She moves across the floor and puts her arms across my shoulders, resting her head against me. 

            “You know when you first met him I told you it was too soon. I should have enforced that more.” She reprimands herself. 

            “N-no, it’s not your fault.” I gasp. She takes my chin and forced me to look at her. 

            “Topanga, I love you.” I try my hardest to smile but I can’t bring myself to. 

            “Analise, I love you.” She smiles at me and kisses me on the cheek; this means nothing, as it’s simply a sign of affection we’ve used since we were little.

            “You know what we should do?” she asks, clearly trying to help me out. I look at her. “We should bash in his car- you know, like in that Carrie Underwood song. Yes. Let’s do it! Come on, now, while there’s more commotion.” She stands up and grabs my hand. I question it for only a second before grabbing her hand and running out the door with her. 

            “Where are we supposed to get a baseball bat,” I ask, slightly jogging behind her. 

            “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have something better.” She glances at me with her famous scandalous grin. I let a small devious smirk run across my face and then we run out the doors, sunshine lighting our faces. I see his car immediately- it’s a red Buick, quite flashy and over-impressive if you ask me. Analise runs off for a moment, to the side of the building we rented. She comes back holding a crow bar. 

            “Where the hell did you get that?” I ask in amazement. She raises her eyebrows as if suggesting, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’. I shrug my it.  shoulders and grab the crow bar from her. I run up to the car, raise my hands high above my head, and smash in the first headlight. It feels so good. I run to the other side and smash it in. Now I feel amazing. I repeatedly smash and dent the hood of the car, with Analise cheering me on. I don’t think about the consequences, the reactions of other people, or even about my wedding. I think about his face, his ugly stupid face, and imagine that I’m hitting it with this crow bar. Finally, after working my way all the way around the car, Analise hands me a pair of car keys. 

            “Come on, you know what to do next.” Some might say that she’s a bad influencer- I like to say that she’s just a good cheerleader. I open the car door, which he always leaves open, and hop into the passenger seat. I take the key and drag it across the dashboard, leaving a nice long mark. Then I decide to scratch different words, such as ‘cheater’, ‘slag’, and some other non-friendly remarks. I then get out of the car, almost done, and etch something into the seat. I leave the door open and toss the keys back to Analise. She comes over to investigate what I had scratched into the seat. I wink at her. There, on the seat, are the words, ‘Your dad kisses better’.