The Exes

The Exes

by Cieanna Arnett

Guests of Charlotte and Derick’s wedding ceremony fill the wooden pews. I scan the area, decorated in shades of beige ribbons and white flowers. It’s dreadfully bland. I’m sweating in my brown suit jacket and peel it off. I grab the flask of whiskey from my pocket before I drape it on the back of the seat. The chatter from the guests comes to a stop as the wedding march sounds. Charlotte makes her way down the aisle and I take a swig from my flask as I watch her glide down the walkway. 

She walks past my aisle and I get my first good look at her. She looks stunning, just how I always imagined she’d look in a wedding gown. I gulp down another swallow of whiskey as she reaches the groom, and they hold hands as the officiant starts their speech. 

I’m not sure what I feel more, sorrow or anger. She was supposed to walk to me, and I would have stared at her with tears rolling down my face, taking in her beauty. Unlike Derick, who only gave her a small smile. I can’t believe she let this douche steal her away from me. 

This should have been our day, our ceremony. I get lost in my thoughts and ignore the officiant’s grand speech. I should object to the wedding. They’re not fit to be together. It was never supposed to be him. It’s supposed to be us. Maybe if I object, she’ll remember how deep our love is and run out of this nightmare with me. 

I clutch the flask and am halfway through another shot when the officiant says, “Before I proceed, should anyone here know of any reason these two should not be married? If so, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

I scoot to the edge of the pew, preparing to stand, to raise my hand, to say anything, but I’m frozen in place. What if they marry anyway? What if she hates me for this? The officiant moves on to the vows and I lower my head to my hands. I feel so inadequate; I can’t even have the courage to proclaim my love for the woman of my dreams. I finish off the flask and dissociate for the remainder of the ceremony. 

At least they didn’t cheap out on the wedding and have an open bar. I sit on a barstool and order an entire bottle of whiskey. The bartender tries to argue with me, saying I can get one drink at a time. I fight back, tell her I’m having a shitty night and to hand over the bottle. She admits defeat and gives me an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. I thank her and move to the end of the bar, sipping straight from the bottle. 

Nearly every stool is taken, and I find myself sitting between a group of friends and a woman with black hair who is sipping on a glass of red wine. 

“Rough night?” She asks.

I grunt in response, taking another drink. 

The woman leans closer to me and whispers in my ear. “The groom is a tool bag and, quite frankly, he’s missing quite a few of those tools.” 

I snort. “Tell me about it.”

“Ramona,” she says, holding her hand out to me. 

“Oliver,” I tell her. “How do you know the groom?”

“We went on a few dates last year, but he freaked out when I wouldn’t sleep with him on the third date. He told me he paid for three meals, and I owed him.” She continues. “I was surprised when I received an invitation. But even if I don’t like the guy, I’m not going to miss out on free food and booze.”

“Sounds like him.” I huff. 

“How about you? How do you know the happy couple?” She sips from her glass and looks at me expectantly. 

“I was in a relationship with the bride, Charlotte, for seven years. She left me for him, couldn’t even wait a whole six months before they got engaged.” I lift the bottle to my lips and take another swallow. It burns the whole way down, but it’s making me pleasantly numb. 

“Sounds like they deserve each other,” Ramona says. 

“She’s the love of my life,” I say flatly. 

“Well, hell, maybe we should trash this place to pay them back. Fuck those guys.” Ramona waves her hand dismissively. 

I stand, wobbling slightly. “Let’s do it.”

“I mean, I was just joking. But what do you have in mind?”

Thinking for a moment, I suggest, “We could change the music. She hates heavy metal. We could put it on for their first dance.”

“And how do you suppose we manage that?” Ramona asks. 

I draw a blank. It sounded better in my head than aloud. I try to think through a way to get the music swapped, but unless we take over the DJ booth, I’m not sure how we could do it. 

Ramona rises from her stool. “Wait here, I have an idea.”

She walks towards the DJ, and I sit back down at the bar and wait. I observe as she leans in and whispers something to the man. She lays her land on his bicep and pushes out her chest a bit. He looks at her smiling and nods excitedly. 

Ramona walks back towards me and sits down at the bar. She crosses her legs and looks at me smugly. “Got it done, just some light flirting and twenty bucks, and he agreed to play it.”

I check my watch. The dance is supposed to start in five minutes. We wait patiently, chatting while we sit. Charlotte and Derick step onto the dance floor and prepare to dance. 

The music starts and Charlotte looks confused for a moment, then her face contorts in anger. Derick places a hand on her arm to soothe her, but she storms off, headed for the DJ. 

Ramona and I laugh as we watch her lose her mind. The DJ apologizes and says he must have put on the wrong playlist. He quickly corrects the issue, and the couple has their first dance.

It was a pretty harmless prank, but God, it felt good. I turn to Ramona. “I have another idea.” 

I lean over and whisper in her ear, telling her my plan. She nods and agrees we should do it. It’ll be a little while before the bouquet toss so we walk to the dance floor.

My movements are made sloppy from the liquor, and I clutch my bottle in my hand while we dance. Ramona twirls around me, swaying with the beat. After a few songs, one bridesmaid steps up to the microphone and announces it’s time for the bouquet toss. 

The bridesmaid gathers at the edge of the dance floor while Charlotte stands in the center, her back to them. She counts down, preparing to throw the bouquet. Ramona sprints towards them, elbowing the bridesmaids in her way. 

The bouquet flies and Ramona catches it in one hand. She jumps and whoops excitedly. Charlotte turns to see which bridesmaid caught the bouquet but has a look of shock on her face when she sees Ramona celebrating. 

Before she has a chance to speak, I walk to Ramona and get down on one knee in front of her. “Ramona Taylor, you’re the love of my life, my sunshine, my everything. Would you do me the honor of spending the rest of our lives together?”

Her smile is blinding, and she claps her hands together and squeals yes. I rise to my feet, and she grabs me by the cheeks and kisses me ferociously. There’s an awkward silence before everyone slowly starts clapping. Charlotte attempts to hide her displeasure but I can see it written across her face.  

As we walk back to the bar hand in hand, I overhear the guests whispering. “Why did he kiss the bouquet? What a fucking weirdo.” Many people just glare at us as we pass. I take a seat at the bar, and we rest for a moment, both of us smiling at our accomplishment.  

I’m starting to feel a little better, thanks to Ramona. She’s helped turn this evening from a nightmare to a game, and I am thankful for it. She smiles deviously and says to me, “You know, I’m pretty hungry. I could really go for some cake right about now.”

Ramona grabs my hand and leads me through the reception and into a kitchen in the back of the building. There we find one of the largest wedding cakes I’ve ever seen. There is barely any frosting decorating the cake; it looks bare and there are tan ribbons tied around each tier. 

I walk up, grab a handful of the cake, and shove it into my mouth. Ramona does the same. We eat as much as our bodies will allow before Ramona smashes what’s left of the cake. We’re both laughing as the kitchen door swings open and the same bridesmaid that announced the bouquet toss walks in. 

“Oh. My. God. What have you done?” She screeches. 

Ramona and I exchange a look and burst out cackling. The bridesmaid turns red and walks out of the kitchen. I head to the sink to wash the minimal frosting off my hands and a moment later the door swings open again, the bridesmaid bringing in a distraught Charlotte. 

“Ollie,” she cries. “Why would you do this to me? It wasn’t good enough to steal my spotlight. You’ve ruined my whole wedding.” 

She’s sobbing and I instantly feel the need to comfort her. I take a step forward, but Ramona clutches my arm and shakes her head no. “Isn’t this what we wanted?” she mouths to me. 

Charlotte sniffles and looks up. Her sadness turns to anger. “Get out!” she screams. She’s shaking and chants it over and over like a prayer. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Ramona guides me out of the kitchen, and we exit the building. We sit on the curb in front of the church. I grab the flask that I refilled out of my pocket and take a swig. I lean forward, my head in my hands. I can’t hold it back anymore. I begin shaking and a few tears slip out. 

“I loved her,” I tell Ramona. 

She rubs soothing circles into my back and shushes me. “I know.” She says in a gentle voice. “You loved her, but she left. She left you high and dry for someone who doesn’t seem to be nearly as interesting as you are, and dare I say, as handsome, either.”

She pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her purse, lighting two, and handing me one. “She hurt you, and she deserved everything she got.” She says with a tone of finality. 

I take a shuddering breath and collect myself. “I know. You’re right. She does deserve it. Seven years of our lives down the drain, and for what? Some douche bag that thinks a girl must put out for a fifty-dollar meal?”

Finishing off what remains in the flask, I stand and stomp out the cigarette butt. “We should get out of here. Let me take you out. We can find some real food, not dry fish and bare cake.”

“I’d love that,” she replies. 

“I just need to take a piss and I’ll be right back,” I tell her. 

I leave Ramona on the curb and make my way back into the church. Several people mingle in the hallways and glare as I pass. I suppose the news of what I’ve done has already spread. I ignore them and enter the Chapel. I stand in front of the altar and undo my zipper. I let myself relax and urinate all over the arch the couple erected. 

Several onlookers gasp at the sight. I chuckle as I redo my zipper and exit the church. I spot a woman sitting on the curb where and walk towards her. My vision fades in and out as I stumble my way towards her. I close my eyes and shake my head. When I reach the curb where it’s empty. I look around, searching for Ramona.

“Ramona?” I call out. 

I take a lap around the building, then double-check the parking lot, but she’s nowhere to be found. I return to the front of the church and find my seat on the curb. I curl my legs up and lean forward, taking steadying breaths. I hit my head repeatedly. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

I groan and close my eyes. She’s vanished into thin air. “Don’t leave me too,” I whisper. 

I fall sideways to the sidewalk and curl up into a ball. “Not again.”