PRETENSE, LOVE AND BLOOD

REMI

When I tried to swallow saliva, I could not. A lump the size of a tennis ball had settled itself in my gut. My whole body vibrated with tension and a fear so thick and suffocating I wanted to crumble to the floor and become one with the rug.

I was sitting in the chapel waiting room, surrounded by my makeup artist and fashioner. Inside the chapel were over a hundred people.

It was my wedding day with my fiancé, Maverick Isaac. Maverick was the heir to the Isaac George Family, the wealthiest family in South America.

But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

My makeup artist cast a furtive glance at me, then at his wristwatch.

My mom, for the umpteenth time, ran into the room and cried, “He isn't here yet?”

I nodded quietly and tried to calm the turbulence in my head. “He'll be here.”

“You spoke to him?” She wanted to be sure. “Have you heard what he's got to say?”

I shrugged my shoulders, my confidence rapidly dropping. “His phone isn't…”

“Oh, goodness gracious!” my mom screamed, throwing her hands to her face. “What the hell is this? Why's he chosen to disgrace us in front of all these people?”

“Don't make a fuss about it, mom,” I said.

She fired back. “What the hell you talking about? It's been four hours!”

Whilst she was speaking, a white cassock floated out of the chapel door and charged towards the room.

The Reverend's presence filled up the place. He tried to belly his fury.

“I haven't been subjected to such a heartless experience all my years,” he said. “Why would Mr Isaac keep the whole city standing? He isn't the first billionaire I'm joining. Neither’s he the last. What's going on, Remi?”

I didn't know how to defend him anymore. Maverick and I had been a disaster waiting to happen. Only me knew how long and hard it took me to force him to fix a wedding.

He finally agreed and in fact footed nearly all the bills. He showed signs of being excited, too. Now, where was he?

I looked up to see that people had started flocking out of the church.

And they didn't leave immediately. They stood outside and at the entrance of the waiting room. Their eyes were fixed on me, lined with cold rage.

I was breaking apart, my self-consciousness kicking in. My lips trembled and my heart bled. My mom looked like she wanted to die.

“Now what do you say to all these people?” the reverend barked.

He clearly wasn't prepared to make this easier for me. I took a quick sweep at the anxious and embarrassed faces glaring down at me. Not one of them was on my side.

“I'll call him now, I'll call him,” I blurted, fiddling with my sweat-covered phone. I'd called him a thousand times before, but I needed to tell these people I was lost, too. That I had no hand in this Maverick's stunt.

I dialled him.

The crowd went quiet.

The ringing beeps started.

“Finally,” my makeup artist sighed, palming his face. “Told you it was the from the network provider.”

I almost smiled.

“He's better give a good reason,” the reverend threatened.

He picked up.

The first voice was a shrill female's. “Girl, there's…”

The voice was abruptly cut short by a struggle. Then the line went dead.

“Oh my God,” someone in the crowd said. Suspicion and curiosity hung thick in the air.

The Reverend crept closer. “Dial him again.”

When I did, there was no answer this time.

He straightened his collar. “Okay. That says it all. I wouldn't ask for a refund on my time, and may God bless you.”

He walked away.

“Stop, Father!” I suddenly shouted.

He did, but didn't turn around. All eyes turned to me, wondering what exactly I had to say.

“He… He's just sent a text,” I stammered.

But none of these made sense! Why would I be the one calling Maverick? And whose voice was that? And why a text message?

“A text message?” asked the clergyman.

“Yes,” I said, peering at my phone. “I guess he's explaining why he…” The words got stuck in my throat as I stared at the text on my screen. My fingers began to tremble alongside my knees.

“Read the damn text!” a furious man shouted.

I sat back down, letting the phone fall to the floor.

Now the reverend turned around, his expression thick with ire. “What. Does. The. Text. Say?” he asked, slowly.

My mom picked the phone and read it all out. “Call off the wedding. There was an emergency at the company. Really sorry.”

That was it.

The crowd was quiet for a while, for the situation was too cringe to allow speech. Glances were exchanged.

My mom looked at me and I turned away.

Then she faced the Father and the crowd. “We… we.. erm, we apologize for —”

Hardly had she finished the word that the crowd broke apart. Even though we were in church premise, their anger was real and raw.

Curses were thrown at me. I was a pathetic fool that shouldn't get any good stuff whatsoever out of life, they declared.

My mom and my makeup artist had to shield me from physical attacks. What was supposed to be a sympathetic approach turned the opposite. Partly because I didn't have as much as a stable family background. My mom sold thrifts and my dad was in a sickbed, the hospital bills gaping open. I deserved no pity.

It took over ten minutes before the church was empty, except for us, and already the security man was beginning to hang around.

No words were exchanged as we gathered our crumbs and left in different cabs.

I was sore and shattered. My heart gaped open, filling up quickly with foul air.

What just happened? How had I ended up with a man as inhuman as Maverick?

I clutched my phone just as another message popped in. It was from his closest friend, Mark.

“want to exactly what happened?”

I was burning from curiosity. But just as I wanted to reply yes, my phone died.