My mom’s beautiful bouquet is made with Lisianthus, Roses, and Aspidistra.
We leave the room to head towards the ballroom.
Jessica, the wedding planner provided by the hotel, is waiting outside the ballroom. She walks towards us as we approach.
“Wow, you look amazing, Kelly,” she says to my mom.
“Thank you. And thank you for making my special day so amazing with such short notice.”
“No problem, I was happy to help.”
“Are you ready?” Jessica asks me.
“Yes.”
“Great, follow me.”
We stop in front of the entrance to the ballroom. I can hear a pianist playing slow classical music through the closed double doors.
When I open the doors, stepping through, all eyes turn to me. I slowly make my way down the aisle and then stand to the left of the wedding arch that’s decorated in purple flowers. Michael and his cousin are wearing the same tuxedo as Uncle Rob. Reverend McDonald from our church will be presiding over the ceremony.
The pianist switches to playing Canon in D. Everyone stands, and a few seconds later, the doors are opened to allow my mother entrance to the ballroom. The fire in my mom’s eyes that was extinguished after the passing of my dad is shining bright again. I’m happy that my mom will not be alone when I go to college next year.
I turn my gaze to Michael. The look on his face is telling me everything I need to know. He will love my mom unconditionally and do whatever it takes to keep her happy. This is the second epic love my mom has had in her life when most people don’t even have one. The ceremony goes quickly and smoothly. Michael and my mom light the unity candle, say their ‘I do’s and jump the broom. The wedding is beautiful and a lot of great memories are made at the wedding reception. The happy couple cut the cake, have their first dance, the best man gives a toast, and guests take turns congratulating the newly married couple over the microphone. At the end of the wedding, I go to the hotel room alone, while my mom goes with Michael. In the next two weeks, my life will be drastically changing.
“I can’t believe this is your last day in Los Angeles, chica. This was supposed to be our year,” says Lo, taking a large gulp of whiskey from her flask.
Lo, short for Lolita, is a 5’2 Latina lesbian with a fuck-you attitude. She’s the complete opposite of me, with her short hair, gauged ears, eyebrow and lip ring, and an assortment of colorful tattoos. She rebels against anything girly. Lo is wearing a black Guns N’ Roses graphic t-shirt and denim shorts. People find it hard to believe we’re friends, but I don’t follow the social order in high school. My friends are my friends, and whoever has a problem with that can kiss my ass. I’m a cheerleader, but I don’t hang out with cheerleaders. They’re a bunch of boy-crazy, catty, backstabbing bitches, but I like to cheer. Lo can take care of herself. She’s a brawler and despite her size, she can fuck shit up so bitches know not to fuck with her.
Lo, Saint, Micah, and I are on her back deck, sitting on patio furniture. We’re spending my last day in Los Angeles together. It makes me sad to think I might lose contact with them, and never see them again, but I’m determined to keep in touch.
“You should let me get a taste of that pussy before you go,” Lo says.
Saint and Micah laugh.
“Sorry, I’m strictly dickly,” I reply.
“You’re lost if you never want to feel this tongue between your legs.”
I give her the finger.
Despite our platonic friendship, Lo is an outrageous flirt. She’s a woman-whore and leaves a trail of broken hearts behind her.
“Send me pictures of some of those West Virginia girls. I want to see what they’re working with so, when I come to visit you, I’ll have an idea of what to expect,” says Micah, taking a long pull from his cigarette, then parts his lips to let the smoke slowly drift his mouth.
I roll my eyes heavenward.
“I second that motion,” adds Lo as she lights a joint.
“You’re going to regret smoking those cancer sticks one day,” I say.
Saint and I don’t smoke. Lo smokes weed, but not cigarettes.
Micah changes his boxers just as much as he changes girls. He’s like a dog in heat. I don’t know who’s the bigger whore, him or Lo. I think they’re having a competition.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m going to live forever,” Micah says as he takes a sip of Hennessey from his red solo cup.
Micah has milk chocolate skin with brown eyes and a high-top fade. He’s sort of a fashionista. He’s wearing distressed skinny jeans with a red and black floral fitted button-up shirt. He has the“swag”that the girls simply cannot deny.
