AMARE

Chapter Four

Pathetically, I ate all my words.

A month later and here I am facing my mother’s vanity box once more like one of the maid honors for Leanne. I can’t remember how many times I’ve gone for the role of the bride’s maid or maid of honor. 

It was a nice experience at first. But being an avid candidate for such a role brought me my kind of lore that I perhaps, I could never be the bride ever. My dearest mother, Katherine, is a known beautician and a local make-up artist here. It’s the major reason why I had numerous wedding experiences because ever since I was a kid, I’ve been taking flower girl roles for weddings of her clients. And now that I’m a full adult, I do still get some invitations from her clients as one of their bridesmaids.

There came a point when I had to turn down one invitation because I need to attend Patrick’s college graduation, as he is a year ahead of me. But I bet, what my mother mentioned about the lore of refusing wedding invitations didn’t scare me a bit at that time, not until that day came when Patrick and I fall apart. Worst, I never get the chance to date, anyone, seriously after him. Some guys had attempted but they all end up letting the flame vanish. And for some reason, I never had any other boyfriend after Patrick at all.

I always thought that it’s a curse-like experience for me, that’s why as much as I can, I don’t want to reject invitations anymore. Even if it means, I also must be my ex’s maid of honor.

“I found it. Oh, I thought I left it at home.” Mom suddenly announced with glee.

“Found what?” I asked as I try to remove the stain from my lower left eye.  She was just beaming when she pulls out a locket inside an urn-like opal ceramic container. It’s kind of creepy as a matter of fact.

“I knew this would match your gown perfectly.” She praises.

When she put the locket on my neck, I was surprised that it did complement the Traje de mestiza-inspired gown I am wearing for Leanne and Patrick’s wedding. After all, their wedding is inspired by the Spanish era and so this single piece of jewelry I am wearing adorns it enough.

“Where did you get this?” I suddenly asked her while I scrutinize the locket from the mirror.

“Oh, that’s an old possession of your late grandma.”

“It’s a locket.” The vintage bronze locket has a Celtic butterfly adorning the middle while surrounding it is a round ring with metal bronze finishing.

“Yes, but since it can no longer be open and I don’t want to ruin it, let’s just leave it like that.” Mother said. I smiled at her as my gesture of thanks.

When I was about to go outside the ancestral house—where we are staying here in Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar—my mother suddenly taps me on my shoulder, making me pull back a bit. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she suddenly asked. It was an out-of-nowhere question from her.

Usually, she’s always the first one to react so excited seeing me attend weddings as a bridesmaid or maid of honor. This time, it’s different though—totally different. I guess she feels unlikely about my decision to accept the wedding role this time, most especially after knowing that the groom is my ex-boyfriend.

 “It’s not like I could withdraw now, Isn’t It?” I jokingly answered to get away from the surging drama. My mother just gave me a beseeching look which I immediately replied, “It is fine mother, I am not okay, but I will try to be. After all, big girls don’t cry. You don’t want your art to be messed up right?” I teased her and we just exchanged a chuckle before heading into the wedding location.

The whole setup is just as exact as how I envisioned for my wedding day. Hate to admit, Patrick stole it from me. Vintage glass, ceramic plates with golden design, golden forks, spoons, and knives are laid across the long tables covered in a cream tablecloth. Beyond it is where the aisle is located.

When I entered the arch created from the climbing magenta rose, my eyes were full of spark seeing the retro bulbs above my head swaying with the gentle winds. Fountain lights are also hanging from the sides making the whole scenery even more fairy-like. The venue was at the heart of Paseo de Escolta which is then recreated Escolta version of Las Casas. Red, Gold, and White are their wedding motif. And as the sun nears its dawn, the theme colors radiantly complement the whole setting.

For the bridesmaids, maid-of-honor, and flower girls, we are given the red Traje de Mestiza-inspired gowns. Men are wearing Barong with small details of red thread cross stitches at the chest lining. I haven’t seen the bride just yet. Some local belief has it that the bride will only enter the wedding area only when her groom and the entourage members are inside. Patrick isn’t surprised to see me.

I supposed he already knew about his dear soon-to-be wife’s wish. And when our eyes had finally met, I could feel that there was something in store with the way he looks at me, I just don’t want to assume what that is as it’s too taboo that I’m here on their wedding day.

As the wedding ceremony finally begins, my chest abruptly begins to deceive me as well. I was pretty normal until this moment when I could sense the sudden throbbing of my chest. It’s as if, I am about to get slayed or something more hideous.

I am feeling extremely nervous. And looking at the way I walk the aisle alone before the bride makes me more nervous. While the rest of the entourage begins their ceremonial walk, I looked back at Leanne who just came out of her carriage. I was stunned by her gown which is too pure and made out of fine silk. The pearls around her crown that holds up her veil covering her face. And the white roses she carries in her hand.

“Sandy.” She greeted me with a smile.

“You’re so beautiful,” I told her.

“Your mom is the best make-up artist.” She said back with a beam on her face. There came a fit of jealousy over me when I look at her again. I help out the wedding arranger with Leanne’s gown and prepared for my line.

“Here goes to your forever,” I told her before I begin my march.

“Thank you,” was her only response before I glance back on the aisle for my walk.

The scene isn’t new to me. I’ve walked along many aisles for quite some time, appeared to the various crowd of eyes before this. But this would be the first time that I would walk down the aisle while at the other end awaits the groom whom I desire and wish to have, My chest throbs even more as I walk closer. The way he looks at me makes me hope that I am indeed what he is waiting for to reach his line. But I know that he is waiting not for me, but the woman behind me.

As I am nearing the line where I would sit next to the bridesmaids, he gave me that assuring smile. That kind where you would decipher the message saying he hopes for me to be happy for him. I know, I can tell from the way his eyes connect with me even for the absence of words. And alas, this I will give him. I return him the best smile that I could give. The kind of best gesture that I could show as I finally turn aside to make way for his bride, his soon-to-be wife.

***