We had our typical Sunday night dinner at the Macs’. Phillip’s parents talked excitedly about the wedding.
Mrs. Mac kept saying, “Only SIX more days!”
When she said it, I kept picturing myself walking the plank instead of down the aisle.
It’s all fine though. It’s normal. I just have a little case of cold feet.
I look at Phillip sleeping.
And I know for sure, he’s the one I want forever.
I put my head on his shoulder and fall asleep.
I’m in my wedding dress, standing outside the ceremony, waiting to walk down the aisle. My dad walks up to me. He’s wearing a black tuxedo. He looks so handsome, and I’m so happy he’s here. He tells me I look beautiful, that I’ll always be his Angel, and then he holds his elbow out.
I hear the wedding march start to play. My mom is standing by the door.
She nods at us. It’s time.
My dad turns and looks at me. His eyes are suddenly panicked. He pulls me off to the side, through a small door. When the door shuts, the room disappears, and we’re in the clouds.
“Are we in heaven?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer me, but I know it’s heaven because Dad looks younger than the last time I saw him.
“Angel,” he says, “are you sure you want to do this? You know, you don’t have to go through with it.”
“Are you saying, I shouldn’t go through with it?”
“I think you’re rushing things. You’re going way too fast.”
Next thing I know, I’m in the tree in our backyard, and Phillip is sitting on the same limb with me. I’m still wearing my wedding dress, but I’m only eight years old.
We’re hiding from my dad because he’s really mad at me. He just found out that I’d lied when I told him I didn’t break the neighbor’s window with a baseball.
I know I’m in big trouble for lying, and I’m scared he’s going to spank me.
Phillip is holding my hand and telling me it will be okay. That we can stay out here all night. That he’s not scared of the dark even though he knows I am.
Dad comes marching over to the tree. There’s nowhere for us to hide, so I try not to move a muscle. Dad pulls me out of the tree, and I’m forced to let go of Phillip’s hand.
Dad says madly, “If you can’t make good decisions, then you’re not playing with Phillip anymore.”
I start bawling.
Phillip wakes me up. “Are you okay? It sounded like you were crying.”
“I was. Do you remember when we were little, and I lied to my dad about us breaking the neighbor’s window? Remember hiding in the tree?”
“I do remember. He was pissed.”
“He told me I couldn’t play with you anymore.”
“We never listened, did we?”
“No, we didn’t.”
Phillip falls back to sleep.
I lie there, thinking. Did my dad just try to tell me not to marry Phillip?
First, God, and now, my dad?
I’m seriously ready to walk the plank just to make these horrible dreams stop.
