“Don’t touch the appetizer trays! They are for the guests!” Mom snapped at me.

I had come inside through the backdoor of our large Victorian Style house and was greeted by my bustling mother. She was running around the big kitchen busying herself with last minute cooking and plating. The knees of my pants were muddy and grass stained. The sweat that had been dripping off of me from playing baseball in 98 degree weather was now dried to my skin. Gritty from salt and sand I made my way through the kitchen in to what was once our living room.

It had been transformed. The overstuffed couch and lounger had been pushed against the back wall while folding chairs occupied the open space. They were lined up in neat rows. Six chairs to each row. With four rows and two sides. A side for the groom and one for the bride. On the back of the chairs huge purple ribbons had been tied for decoration.

In the front of the room by the bay window stood my father. He wore a three piece cummerbund suit that matched the purple ribbons perfectly. He looked out the window at the street. Soon it would be lined with cars and his home would be filled with well-wishers, family, friends of the bride (and the groom), and the preacher too. He could not believe his baby girl was getting married. It must have made him feel old, because for the first time in my life he looked old.

“Hey Dad. You okay?” I questioned.

“I'm fine Jacky. Just fine.” He addressed me back, but his eyes remained glued to the street. “You might want to wash up and get dressed before everyone shows up buddy.”

“Yeah, okay Dad. You sure you're okay? You're looking kinda.. sick like.”

He finally ripped his gaze away from the window. “I'm gonna be fine son. It's not everyday your baby girl gets married. Hurry up and get ready I want you looking sharp like me.” He straightened up, shook out his large shoulders and grabbed his tuxedo jackets lapels. He looked like one of the male models in the Sears Catalogs mom got delivered once a month.

I made my way up stairs skipping a step or two. As I landed with a loud thump on the top landing I noticed something odd. Dark red drops were splattered all over the cherrywood floors. I bent down and drug my dirty finger through one of the drops. I had to be certain it wasn't something else. The crimson liquid was sticky and smelt of iron. I wiped it off on my already stained pants and tiptoed through the rest of the spots as not to disturb them anymore than I had. “Who cut themselves?” I wondered.

It had been a busy day but I had managed to get Mom and Dad to let me go outside and play for a couple hours before the wedding. As long as I promised to come straight home and get ready. I was to be on my best behaviour and under no circumstances was I to pick on Ginny today. It was a big day for her. I didn't really care about Ginny's big day. So what she was getting married. People got married everyday! But I agreed to their demands and spent my free time playing baseball with the guys at the empty lots down the road and across the railroad tracks.

It had been a good day so far and a bath wouldn't kill me. I'd let mom know about the blood after the wedding. She was too busy to clean it up now anyway.

I slipped in to my room and grabbed my bath towel and some fresh underwear. Mom had laid my tux out on my bed. It was an exact match to the one my father wore, and would match the rest of the groomsmen as well. Ginny had chosen the colors. I'm just glad she didn't choose pink!

As I started my bathwater and got undressed, I noticed more blood drops on the bathroom sink. Who ever cut themselves did a pretty good job. Mom wasn't gonna be happy they didn't clean it up though. I jumped in the lukewarm bath water. As the tub filled I played around. I was small enough still that I could float on top of the basin and I imagined that I was a submarine about to go in to defcon 1!

“Dive dive dive!” I shouted as I plunged myself under the water. I was hunting down an enemy ship and getting ready to blow it to smithereens when the doorbell rang. The guests were arriving and I was naked as a Jaybird! “Time to wash up and get this over with.” I muttered to myself. After shampooing and scrubbing off the dirt and sweat, I rinsed myself down and dried myself off.

The suit was uncomfortable. It scratched my neck and legs and felt tight around my shoulders. I thought if I flexed I would rip the whole damned thing right in half, but I had promised my parents my best behaviour so there would be no pretending to be the Hulk today. I finished dressing and combing back my hair the way Dad had taught me. I looked myself over in the mirror and shook out my shoulders and grabbed the lapels of the tuxedos jacket just like dad had done downstairs. I looked just like him in this suit. That made me feel good. My dad was big and strong! I hoped to be just like him when I grew up.

I made my way back downstairs minding the blood drops and sat on one of the folded chairs in the front row marked for the bride's side. The guests were arriving in large swarms now. The noise was steadily growing as my mom made her way through the throngs, holding trays of appetizers with my Aunt following behind carrying fancy glasses of champagne for the adults. This was it. In another hour my sister would no longer be Ginny Rose Dormon. She would be known As Mrs. Ginny Rose Stroffard. Brandon Eugene Stroffards wife. Yuck! How gross!

Brandon was a jerk. His parents owned the supermarket in town and he and Ginny had been dating since they were 14. That didn't make me like him. He drove a mustang and wore Oakley sunglasses. He paid to have his nails trimmed and wore way too much cologne. But my sister was in love with him. “She must have a nose that doesn't work right,” I thought to myself, because I couldn't get within a blocks radius of Brandon without gagging on his stench!

As the music started the guests began to take a seat. Dad was upstairs getting ready to escort the bride. Mom and Aunt Edna took their seats next to me. Brandon was standing at the bay window where my Dad had stood before. Unlike my Dad Brandon looked young and cocky. His three piece cummerbund was adorned with a purple carnation. A darker purple kerchief stuck out of his coat pocket.

Beside him stood his best friends. Three of the meanest guys I had ever met. Howard Lamensky, Gary Brown, and Jason Campbell. What a bunch of jerks! These were the guys who chased you through the neighborhood! They stole your lunch money and even took and ruined my friend Billy's bike! They were slime. All four of them if you asked me, but nobody did.

I sat and listened as the music grew louder and the crowd grew quiet. Dad would be walking Ginny down the stairs and through the threshold of the living room any minute. She would be wearing that hideous white lace wedding dress and her ugly face would be covered in a white veil. She would be grinning from ear to ear and tears of joy would dampen her chubby cheeks as she took her place beside her future husband.

The music played “Here comes the bride,” and we all waited with baited breath for the aforementioned bride to come, but she didn't appear. The music started over and everyone began to whisper. You could hear the concern in their voices. Did my sister get cold feet? Where was she? Did she change her mind and flee out of the window when nobody was looking? The hushed voices became louder and the music was soon drowned out by a slew of questions from both sides. Where was the bride?

Brandon began to fidget. His friends kept shooting him concerned looks and patting him on the back. Mom stood up from her spot at the front and promised the large crowd “that everything was fine. Ginny would be down shortly.” She was going to go see what the hold up was. As the throngs began to talk amongst themselves, I slipped out of my seat and followed Mom up the stairs. Whatever could be keeping Ginny from marrying Brandon I wanted to know so I could hang it over her head for the next couple years at all the family gatherings! Picking on my older sister was the highlight of my childhood. That and baseball.

I watched Mom from behind as she ascended the stairs. Her purple Sequin dress made swishing sounds as she climbed each step. She kept one hand on the railing while the other lifted her dress. Her head stayed up and focused. She didn't notice the blood on the floor. She walked right past the bathroom not noticing the sink. She walked past my room and proceeded to knock lightly on Ginnys bedroom door.

“Ginny Baby, they are all waiting for you..” she knocked again. “Ginny?”

As mom turned the knob to my sisters room I watched. I watched as she opened the door wide and gasped for air. I watched my mom as she fell. She crumbled to the floor and began to scream.

Why?

I ran to look in and saw my sister. She looked beautiful in her white lace wedding dress. She looked so peaceful laying on her bed. Her veil sat beside her. Her face was pale. Her lips were blue. The floor around her was thick with what looked to be blood! It was her who was bleeding!

I looked around the room. My Dad was supposed to be up here, giving her his blessing and getting ready to give her away! He was standing in the corner tears streaming down his face.

“I didn't know how to tell them,” he whispered so low I almost didn't hear.

Mom screamed and wailed. She grabbed for her baby girl and held her tight. She laid down next to her on the small twin bed. She held her first born baby girl tight and rocked her back and forth. The baby she carried and grew inside of her. The one she taught how to tie her shoes, and put on makeup. The little girl who wanted nothing more than to grow up, get married, and live happily ever after was dead.

Ginny would never get her wedding. She slit her wrists that day. She didn't leave a note behind. There was nothing to say why she did what she did, but she did it.

The crowds were still downstairs waiting. The groom ‘to be’ stood holding his breath looking for his bride he would never get to see. While my mom, Dad, and I sobbed together inconsolably.

I lost my big sister on her big day. Not to jerky Brandon and his group of slimy friends. But to her own doubts and fears. Things we never knew she had! She never talked of suicide. She never seemed depressed. She always had smile on her face, and she was always good for a laugh.

My sister took her life that day, instead of giving it away. None of us knew why, but on that particular hot summer day, while I played baseball, my sister, Ginny Rose Dormon decided to turn her wedding into a funeral.

By Leah Pryor
Website: https://dreamingbigonempty.wordpress.com