Together by This Christmas Tree

cally mcgregor

I smiled as Gemma slid into her wedding dress, just a few more hours until she and Henry were married. I could tell she was nervous. But I was happy, too. There were only three more days until Christmas was over, and only a few hours until my best friend was happy that I imagined I would have been with Howie.

I smiled, a fake smile, as I thought of Howie. The other bridesmaids and I were alike, all dressed in these beautiful and short lavender dresses with a black sash across the waist. They were all young, and I knew only one of them. Henry’s sixteen year old sister, May, who had just found her own love in Benjamin, her seventeen year old boyfriend. “You look beautiful, Gemma,” I murmured, and she did. Puffy white dress and a white smile, her red hair tied back elegantly and a few tear trails down her cheeks. She was far from cold feet as she pulled me into a tight hug.

“I’m just so happy you’re here, Cally, and I’m so happy for you and I’m-” She was practically bawling now, and the others, recognizing that we needed a moment, shuffled out of the room, their black heels clacking loudly on the tile of Gemma’s room, larger than life and covered in stone. I held her at arm’s length, wiping the wet mascara from under her eyes.

“Stop blubbering, Gemma, you’re going to ruin your makeup.” I smiled, and she laughed, her eyes watery. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?” I said, biting my lip and keeping my eyes on hers, afraid that I would cry too, cry for her, but be selfish and cry for myself too.

“I love you too, Cally.” Gemma’s voice was broken, but our ring bearer, May’s younger brother, Jerome came waltzing inside amid a sea of “aw”s.

“Gemma, it’s time,” He said, his voice young and pure as I took Gemma’s hand and helped her off her pedestal, tucking her hair behind her ear and holding her long skirt as the other bridesmaids arranged her veil as we walked towards the marquee, where her father would take her away from us.

May held my hand, for tears were already falling down my cheeks for reasons we both knew but would never speak of. John, honorary groomsman, smiled at me from his place behind the last groomsman himself, as I would be standing behind Gemma. However, I would be led down the aisle by Henry’s best man, his best friend, Max Helyer, who looked smashing in his tux. He winked at me.

The director nodded to me and Max, and forgetting John for a moment, wrapped my arm around his elbow, and he smiled at me. “I’m going to take you out after all this, okay, Cally?” And in my bliss and sadness, I smiled and nodded, still trying to work out how this was all possible.

Tendrils of lavender and white fell down on us as we walked towards the front, with the others behind us, and time seemed to move in slow motion. I mean, I was aware that I was holding Gemma’s skirt and listening to their vows, aware that soon, I would begin to be considered old and a spinster, that I might be getting close to the point where I no longer got to have love, no longer could find it. I began to have a slow rising panic attack.

“I do,” Henry murmured, his eyes filling with tears as he held tightly to Gemma’s hands as she bawled.

“I do,” She said, through watery eyes and a shaky personality, but when their lips touched and everyone cheered, I was suddenly lost.

I was so happy, though, that my body began to have tears leave my eyes, smiling at both the very British Max and at the quiet John, both of whom seemed to be cheering loudly. At the same time, I was wondering when it was going to my turn. When was I going to be happy?

A sea of faces and then Gemma and Henry disappeared, seeming to expect us to survive without them. And we did, me and Max catching up at our little table in the corner, enough champagne for both of us to be off our faces. Max smiled at me, “I would have totally stayed with you, Cally, and I still would-” My heart skipped a beat, desperate for attention, “But I’ve met someone, Cally. You would love her. Her name’s Alyssa, and I love her, Cally, I fucking love her.”

I was happy for him, and I smiled, taking his hand. “Congratulations, Max. I’m so happy for you, and I’d love to meet her sometime.” My smile felt so plastic, but maybe that was because I was so unsure of who I was and where I was going with this life, these pathetic excuses for life stories. I was just in a rut, perhaps, or maybe I was foreshadowing the rest of my existence.

He smiled. “What about you? I saw that sexy piece of man ass over there,” He pointed to John, who was dancing with Gemma’s aged mother who despised me after I helped her sneak out when we were eighteen, “winking at you earlier. What’s the story there?” I smiled, running my fingers over the small lavender tablecloth that Gemma had stressed over for ages.

“We’re friends, but I’m madly in love with him, Max. He’s just like you in a lot of ways-” He smiled, blushing slightly, “But I don’t know, he has a girlfriend.” I shrugged, and he smirked, swirling his champagne around in his flute.

“Go chase him. You deserve that much happiness, the kind of happiness I have with Alyssa, the kind that Gemma has with Henry, hell, the kind that Damien has with Isabelle.” He smiled, and stood, and began socializing again, and I was struck with his words.

John cleared his throat, standing before me with a wide smirk on his lips. “May I have this dance?” I smiled, taking his hand as he helped me stand. He brought an instant smile to my lips.
“You can have every dance.”