I didn’t belong here. Should’ve never agreed. I was a heathen in a house of God, and I could already feel the judgment pressing down on my bare shoulders. If lightning struck me dead mid-aisle, I wouldn’t even be surprised.
Jalen, the fine-ass groomsman I’d been paired with, leaned in slightly and whispered, “You alright?”
I nodded, even though my brain was screaming hell no, I’ll never be alright again.
I imagined myself tossing these fake-ass pink lilies to the ground, stripping out of this ugly-ass yellow dress, and running out the doors barefoot yelling, “Save me, Black Jesus!”
Stop it, I told myself. Focus.
In and out. One foot in front of the other.
A laugh echoed from one of the pews. My throat closed. Were they laughing at me? Did they know what I’d done? What I’d been?
Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.
Did I remember to put on deodorant?
I wanted to sniff my underarm, just to be sure.
Don’t do it, Eshe. Keep walking.
I let out a breath of relief when we finally reached the altar and Jalen gently placed me where I was supposed to stand. Across from the groom. Across from him.
My titties were sweaty. I had to pee. And all I could think about was how much I hated Sinica.
Jalen took his place beside the groom while I tried to keep my face composed.
It was hot as hell in the church.
I fanned myself with my hand.
“Why is it so hot in here?” I mumbled.
The pastor glanced my way, and I imagined asking him to turn on the AC. But instead, I studied him. 6'2", smooth caramel skin, chiseled face, dimples. Whew.
Maybe I should start going to church again.
A throat cleared behind me.
“Stand up straight,” someone whispered.
It was the mother of the groom. I did as I was told, back stiff, eyes still locked on the red carpet.
I inhaled slowly to calm my nerves—big mistake.
Viktor & Rolf’s Spicebomb flooded my senses. That scent. His scent.
My knees went weak. Flashbacks rolled in—white sheets, skin like onyx, lips saying everything but sorry.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek and forced the memory back into the vault.
The other bridesmaids joined me one by one. We stood in a line like beautiful liars, all smiling for Sinica’s big day.
Then the music changed.
Beyoncé’s 1+1.
Cliché, I thought. But Sinica loved her some Beyoncé.
