Resistance

by K Larsen

  “What the hell would I do without you?” she sniffles.

  I've asked myself that, like a fool, many times, but it seems as though she does just fine without me. Steeling myself, I stand her up straight and turn her around. With a swat to the ass, she's moving in the right direction again.

  Toxic.

  This whole day is poison to my soul.

  I'll be lucky if I don't cry like a little bitch, drink myself into a stupor, and vomit all over the reception hall.

  Really lucky.

  “Sawyer, handsome as ever,” Marg says with a smile and winks at me. Amanda gives me a sad smile and a head nod. Is it that obvious? I’ve done everything possible to get over Clara. To move on. Problem is, nothing seems to work. Sixteen months ago, when Dominic Napoli proposed to Clara and she accepted, I’d known my life with her was over. No hope left. Needless to say, it’s been a long sixteen months. Sure, I’d put myself out there after I moved out and tried to date. Nothing seems to stick, or no one seems to stick I guess.

  Death.

  This must be what death feels like.

  A tug at my hand breaks me from my depressing thoughts. Allie’s wide smile beams up at me. She tugs again on my hand so I lean down to her level.

  “You know I love you forever, right?” she says gently. Her eyes swell with pure adoration and loyalty.

  Impaled.

  It’s like the kid can see through my soul.

  Dammit.

  “Allie, I’m fine,” I promise her. “And yes, I know that you love me forever. The feeling's mutual, kiddo.” She worries too much about me, for me. At eleven years old, she shouldn't bear that burden. She kisses my cheek and turns around as the a cappella group starts singing “Unchained Melody.” I watch as Allie makes her way down the aisle just as practiced. Dominic stands tall at the other end grinning from ear to ear in an entirely too expensive tuxedo.

  Asshole.

  I grind my teeth as Marg starts her descent and I feel like I’m losing air. It’s happening. When Marg is halfway down Amanda starts walking and I take my place at Clara’s elbow and wait. I’m going to suffocate. Her skin is warm and comforting in its familiarity but cruel and punishing in the reality of the situation. I should be standing where Dom stands. I should be walking down an aisle with her—just on the way out. I nudge her when it’s our time to go because she's stuck staring at Dominic. Our first step changes everything. The singers in the balcony break out into their rendition of “No Diggity.”

  Surprise. Not the scheduled music selection.

  Dread clenches my insides, twisting me up. I need this day to end.

  Clara stops dead center in the aisle, wide-eyed, and spins around to the balcony. I mimic her movements. Her mouth gapes open and her eyes sparkle as she realizes this is indeed planned. Dominic and Allie grin like Cheshire Cats fifteen feet from us. A romantic surprise. Clara’s chorus kids appear in the balcony and join the a cappella group. Everyone in the church is standing and clapping now. Good God. Why? This romantic gesture is going to throw me over the edge. All I want to do right now, in the moment, is lean down and take her lips to mine. To kiss her amid the fantastic music and have everyone else fade away.

  The song morphs seamlessly into “Faithfully” and I know, right this second, that I was never good enough for her. Pain squeezes my chest, making it hard to breathe. I could have never given this to her. I never would have thought to do it, I never would have thought she’d want it.

  It hurts.

  Knowing that truth hurts.

  Finally the group mixes the song into Clara’s favorite, “Since You’ve Asked.” She’s trembling on my arm now. It’s the kind of tremble you want a woman to feel. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth to keep the smile on my face.

  For her. I smile for her.

  I will not be the one to ruin this day.

  Her day.

  I squeeze her elbow gently and nod my head to keep going. She follows suit and we walk. We reach the end of the aisle and I detach myself from her with a soft, lingering kiss on the temple and hand her to Dominic. He shakes my hand and smiles gently at me.

  He’s not stupid.

  He knows.

  I take my seat in the front pew on the bride's side and watch the whole Goddamned shit show happen.

  I’m breathing.

  “I do,” she whispers breathily. For a split second I imagine that she is looking at me the way she’s gazing at Dominic. With intimacy. I shake my head and focus instead on her long, inky lashes.

  I’m not breathing.

  “I do,” he states with grandeur.

  Mr. and Mrs. announced.

  Everything seems so cut-and-dried.

  So final now.

  We’re in the limo on the way to the reception. Clara has no family outside of Allie and myself...well that’s a lie, but it’s true, too. She has no contact with her mother and I don’t blame her. So I’m it. The bride's pictures will be me, Allie, Clara, and Dominic. I slap on a smile and do my best to just make it through the next hour. Why do brides need so many damn pictures anyways?

  Torture.

  “You okay?” Marg asks, sliding up to me while Clara and Dom are posed in various positions. I watch as they smile at each other and kiss. It’s a lover's kiss. An intimate kiss. One that screams, “we’re having a conversation without words.”

  “Nope,” I clip.

  “Sawyer,” she starts, angling her head up to look at me.

  “Please don’t. I already feel like a big enough vagina today.” I stuff my hands in my tuxedo pockets and stare at my feet silently.

  “You’re a good man. The best, actually. Try to enjoy yourself,” she mumbles before leaving me alone.

  “Sawyerrrrrrr!” Allie shrieks, running full tilt at me. I crouch down, arms spread wide, and catch her as she leaps into my arms. Picking her up, I spin us around until I feel sick. Her peals of laughter make my heart feel lighter for the moment. She’s the most amazing eleven year old I’ve ever encountered and I’m nothing but lucky to be her surrogate father. I hear the shutter click of a camera and realize that Clara directed the photographer to capture me and Allie’s impromptu moment. Well at least there’s one picture I’ll enjoy.

  I’ll never give her up.

  I smile at her beautiful youthful, face, happy she’s still here with us. I almost lost my mind after the accident. The car that hit her was going too fast and the driver wasn’t paying attention. Allie didn’t stand a chance even though she was on her bicycle on the sidewalk. As if that hadn't been bad enough—seeing her mangled and bruised—we had to endure waiting for a kidney transplant afterward. The damage done internally from the accident had led to a kidney transplant and a slew of other messes. Namely her real father emerging for the first time ever. At least he disappeared as fast as he’d shown up. It had all worked out in the end but the mess that ensued during the ordeal was enough to drive a man insane.

  Clara.

  The sight of her glowing with love and happiness makes my heart constrict. I wanted to be that man. For a while I was.

  Sorta.

  Our life was perfect. Our family, albeit unconventional, was perfect.

  Then he happened.

  Dominic Napoli stole her heart. He stole her away from me. It happened in slow motion. I could feel the distance between us growing. I could see where it would all end up, yet still I stayed and took it.

  I held out hope. I wanted her to pick me.

  Pick me.

  Did I tell her that?

  No.

  Not really.

  Not until it was too late.

  I should have fought for her from the beginning. I should have noticed and taken it as my cue to step up my game. To woo her, or whatever that shit's called. I should have done something.

  I didn’t.

  Women don’t want status quo and that’s what I gave her. Then again, some people won’t love you no matter what you do. Comfort, familiarity, and security were never what
she truly needed. I knew that. I knew how to work around it, even. She got restless, I wrangled her in. That was our game. I knew what I was doing.

  I should have altered my game.

  I didn’t.

  Too late now.

  The flashes blind the happy couple over and over until I can see in Clara’s face that she’s had enough. She rocks up on her toes and whispers something to Dom who then grins and promptly lets the photographer know that they are done. He should have seen that in her face like I did. He should know her that well.

  He should.

  I do.

  Therein lies the problem.

  The reception is amazing. I want to hate it, I really do, but Clara planned it and we’re so alike in music choices and style that I can’t find it in me. My foot's been tapping the entire time I’ve been sitting at my table. All our favorite songs play softly in the background. I’m lost in the moment. Lost in thoughts. Just lost.

  Amanda kicks me under the table and nods her head. I grunt and snap out of it, eyeing her wildly until I realize what’s going on. It’s toast time. Standing, I lift my glass to the Bride and Groom’s table. Clara sits perched on Dom’s lap, lost in the moment. It looks good on her.

  Radiance.

  Happiness.

  Bliss.

  She’s all of those things right now.

  The room is quiet. So quiet. I breathe deeply and start before I lose my nerve.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, as ‘father’ of the bride I have the pleasure of making the first speech.” I smirk right on cue, sure to bear my dimples to all the single ladies. “I have been given lots and lots of advice on what or what not to say, such as keep it short, no smutty jokes, try and remember...names...et cetera. However, it is been over six years since I was allowed to say anything without being disagreed with, laughed at, or ignored, so this is too good an opportunity to miss. At the end of the day it is my speech and I can say what I like.” Clara’s eyes narrow in on me. Her brown to my blue eyes holding each other, waiting. I drag a hand through my shaggy dirty blonde hair. I know she’s worried.

  She shouldn't be.

  “Thank you all for coming to help celebrate this very special day. As I look around the room I realize how many friends Dom and Clara have and I hope that you all have a wonderful afternoon and evening. Today I must admit that I am the proudest man in the world to have accompanied Clara down the aisle. I think that you will all agree that she looked stunning.” I stop and wait for the requisite head nods. “This is where I am supposed to say a few embarrassing things about her when she was younger but she works with me and she probably knows more gossip about me than I know about her, so I have called a truce. Suffice it to say that I am very proud of how she looks today and the woman she’s become and am delighted that she has found someone who she obviously loves and cares so much for.”

  Now we get to the tricky part of the speech.

  “According to the Internet’s idiots’ guide to wedding speeches, this is where I am supposed to give advice on the subject of marriage. Many would probably say that I am probably not the best person to do this. Perhaps the only thing I know about marriage is that it’s the time when you stop painting the town and start painting walls and ceilings. But I’ve never been married, so what do I really know?

  “I know that falling in love’s not hard, yet staying in love is.” I pause and stare directly into her eyes. “Anyway, you two don’t need my advice. The only thing I would say is that you must choose the right partner for the right reason and I think that they both have done this.”

  I suppose that after five years of living with her I ought to be able to manage something a bit more constructive.

  “Dom, just remember these three words: all, just, and only. You will hear them time and again, like, 'all you need to do is, it only costs so much, and it will just take five minutes.'

  “These are all gross understatements, but as a great philosopher or comedian said, ‘women are to be loved and not understood.’ Mind you, helping around the house is not a bad idea. I know from crime statistics that there has never been a case of a wife shooting her husband while he was doing the dishes.” Everyone chuckles right on cue.

  “Marriage is the meeting of two minds, of two hearts, and of two souls. It is clear that Dom and Clara are a perfect example of this.” I pause and raise my glass higher. “May they be blessed with happiness that grows and with love that lasts and a peaceful life together.” I bring the glass to my lips and chug everything in it.

  Clapping. So much clapping. It hurts my ears.

  Clara rounds the table, heading right for me, and slams into me with such force that I’m now seated again. Her arms wind around my neck as she strangles me. I can feel warm, wet tears at my neck.

  It breaks me.

  “Beautiful, Mr. Pokey, just beautiful,” she mutters softly into my ear. I cringe at the old term of endearment for my dick. Mr. Pokey retreats into himself. I pat her back gently and she unlatches herself from me.

  “Go back before Dominic kills me with his glare,” I grumble. Her head whips around to look at him and she chuckles.

  “It’s good for him,” she quips before kissing my cheek and sauntering back to his lap.

  His lap.

  Not mine.

  After the speeches have been made, the food's been eaten, and the cake's been cut, the party takes off. Music blares, the dance floor throbs, and I stand at the bar drowning myself in gin.

  “What’s got you in such a snit?” Amanda says as she wobbles to a halt next to me. Clara’s two best friends are the shit. I love Marg and Amanda but Amanda always seems to want in my pants. Not that she doesn't stand a chance, I just don't seem to be into anyone at this point. It’s too bad, because Amanda is smokin’ hot. I’m grumpy, though, and her presence irritates me at the moment.

  “Really?” I bark. I sense immediately that my response was a little over the top and try to soften my face but I’m so wasted I’m not sure if it’s working or not. I probably just look like a stroke victim.

  “Sorry, Sawyer. It’s tough, I get it, but it’s been like two years since you two’ve been together or lived together, you know? It’s time to move on, mend, heal, whatever you want to call it.” She waves a hand sloppily in the air.

  “Wanna fuck?” I blurt. Where did that come from? Her eyes widen with surprise.

  “Holy shit. YES!” she squeals. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s subtly been hinting that she wants to get in my pants for the last six months. I’m ready to leave and she was the first opportunity that presented itself.

  Women.

  “Let’s get outta here. The bike's out back.” Her eyes widen with excitement and sloppy lust.

  “Are you good to drive?” she asks hesitantly. I can almost see her mentally kicking herself for distracting me and possibly ruining her chance at tonight.

  “You staying here?” I ask. She nods her head vigorously up and down.

  “Lead the way, princess.”

  She grins wide and starts for the lobby. I follow Amanda out of the reception hall but glance back one last time at Clara. Her eyes find mine and for the first time all day they don’t shine with bliss. It’s only a split second but regret, sadness, hurt, even, is directed at me while she watches me walk out with her best friend.

  Clara decimated my heart.

  I swing my head around and watch as Amanda’s pert little ass sways drunkenly in front of me.

  I’ll do anything to forget for a couple hours, to block out my twisted obsession with Clara.

  Anything.

  Chapter 2

  Death by Heart Explosion

  I’ve lost her.

  Two little words shot deep into my heart and decimated any hope I’d held onto: “I do.” That was the moment it was really final. Completely over. I’ve been drunk most every day since the wedding. It seems to help. I like feeling nothing. It’s a nice change for me.

  Fourteen days. Fourteen days since the wedding
. Fourteen days they’ve been away on the honeymoon. They came home last night.

  I only know this because Allie called at 11:00 p.m. when they landed, squealing about snorkeling, zip-lining, and other fantastic adventures they’d had in Fiji. Good for fucking them. That’s the last thought I have before a knock at the front door startles me from my thinking.

  I open the door wearing the same jeans I'd been wearing the night before, but with a black t-shirt and an unsnapped, faded denim shirt over it. I haven't even shaved. Clara’s warm brown eyes and tight little body assault my vision. It almost hurts to look at her. I was getting close to being able to not remember her.

  "How long since you've eaten a full meal or had a few hours of sleep? Have you walked by a mirror lately?" Clara prods, looking shocked at my appearance as she pushes through the entry. I scrub my stubbly jaw with one hand and cock an eyebrow at her.

  “Sorry, but visions of you on your honeymoon getting fucked senseless interfered with my ability to function,” I snap. Oh sweet baby Jesus, why did I say that out loud? It’s like I’m forever missing the filter needed to speak to her lately. She sinks onto the plaid camelback sofa, looking embarrassed and pissed off, straight down to the roots of her hair.

  I’m an asshole. A bonafide shithead.

  “Fuck you, Sawyer,” she spits, glaring at me.

  “I’m sorry.” I sigh deeply and collapse on the couch next to her. I scratch at my scalp and try to think of a decent apology. That was uncalled for. It’s been long enough that I should be moving on now. Should.

  “Allie wants to see you, like, NOW, but I had a feeling you might not be in the best shape to accept eleven-year-old visitors. And thanks a lot by the way for Amanda,” she snaps at me, changing the subject. For that I’m grateful.

  “What about Amanda?” I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the sofa.

  “WHAT ABOUT AMANDA?!” she shrieks at me. I scrunch my face up and plug my ears. The lungs on that woman could kill a small town and make babies two counties over wake up and cry. It’s torture.