Echoes of Regret

• Drama

								
You may wonder how we got here. What secrets did we keep that led us down this treacherous path? It may surprise you to find out that it all started with a  beautiful wedding and young couple in love. 

Standing tall at the altar, listening to the hum of the string quartet, I leaned to my left, joking to my best man, "I always told her she'd be late to her own wedding."

He gave me a hard, loving slap on my arm. "She'll be here any minute, and you have the rest of your lives to spend together."

Even with sweat pooling over my face, my feet sore from those loafers, my heart was singing. I had loved June since the moment I laid eyes on her, and three years later, I could hardly believe I was standing there about to make her my bride. She could admittedly be a bit flaky and distracted, but she was the sun shining through the dark veil of my life. She brought me nothing but happiness.

June's smiles were contagious. Everyone knew June in town and she was beloved by all, she showed interest in everyone she met. She brought our 86 year old  neighbors garbage cans back and forth every week. She always lent a hand when needed and ear when anyone needed to be heard. She had a soft and kind soul. 

I always tried to be a decent person, though many, especially June, would on occasion mention my cynical nature. I can accept my cynicism but I treated my family and friends with respect and care. If someone wasn’t  family or a friend I never saw much use for a person. 

St. Patrick's Cathedral had been the perfect venue for a wedding. As you stepped into the cathedral, you were immediately struck by the grandeur of the space. The high, vaulted ceilings stretched upwards, drawing your eyes to the intricate stained glass windows that lined the walls. Vibrant colors cast a kaleidoscope of light onto the polished stone floor below.

Rows of dark wooden pews were arranged with precision. At the front, the altar stood as the focal point, adorned with ornate candlesticks, a golden crucifix, and fresh flowers arranged in delicate vases.

The walls were adorned with religious iconography – paintings of saints, the Virgin Mary, and the Stations of the Cross, each one a masterpiece in its own right. Marble statues stood vigil in alcoves, their serene expressions inviting contemplation and prayer.

Even the softest note carried, and the quartet's hymns resonated with a clarity that was both haunting and beautiful. The overall effect was one of awe and reverence, a space designed to inspire and uplift the spirit.

Time seemed to stand still as we awaited her arrival, each moment stretching like an eternity. And then, at last, the signal we had all been waiting for.

The quartet finally began playing the traditional wedding march. My heart rate intensified; I glanced at my best man, and he gave me a wink of acknowledgment. I was proud and grateful to have Brian standing next to me as my best friend and chosen brother since we were eight years old.

I looked down the aisle. There she was. With her princess-styled white gown and lace veil cascading over her auburn hair, she glided down the aisle, ethereal and angelic. A few tears of joy slipped from the corner of my eyes.

June was linked arm in arm with her Aunt Glory, who gave her to me. As we made our endless vows of committing through sickness and health, riches or famine, the good times and bad, I felt assured that June was mine and I was hers, that our lives would be filled with nothing but love and happiness. Visions of vacations, cuddles in bed, endless laughter, children, and a picket fence filled my mind. Fully believing in a picture perfect future awaiting us. We exchanged our "I do's" and sealed our fate with a kiss. 

Fate is an intriguing concept. We often speak of destiny’s beauty, yet it implies a divine plan guiding us. If this is destiny, it has a sick sense of humor

Year 2

Two years later, everything was practically perfect, but destiny had more in store for these young lovers. 

I was headed out the door on the morning of our second wedding anniversary. June shouted down the stairs as I placed my hand on the door. “Warren, are you leaving without kissing me goodbye?” 

My hand fell, I chuckled at my sleepy wife. “I wouldn’t think of it!” Junes a beautician and usually works second shift, I honestly was surprised she was awake at 8am. 

I made my way to our winding staircase meeting June, who had walked down still in her pajamas. I kissed her passionately and wrapped my arms around her small frame. “Happy anniversary, baby.”  

With her head snuggled into my chest, she replied. “Happy anniversary. I woke up early hoping to catch you.” 

“You did good.” I tease and kiss her head. 

I did have to leave for work, we exchanged goodbyes and I reminded her of our dinner reservations. She assured me she’d be there. 

My workday began like any other for me, but it quickly spiraled into chaos. I was incredibly grateful for the promotion I had gotten last year. Financially it had changed our lives, but it certainly came with its own set of challenges. 

By mid-morning, the conveyor belt malfunctioned, halting production entirely. Workers stood idle, their anxious whispers filling the air as I scrambled to contact the maintenance team. My phone buzzed incessantly with calls from irate clients demanding their orders, adding to the growing tension.

By noon, the maintenance team had identified the issue, but the required part was out of stock and wouldn't arrive until the next day. My frustration peaked as I relayed the bad news to the higher-ups, who were none too pleased. In the meantime, I reassigned workers to various tasks to maintain some semblance of productivity. However, morale plummeted as the day dragged on with no resolution in sight.

As the afternoon wore on, my stress manifested in a pounding headache. I managed to negotiate with a local supplier for a temporary fix, but it would be costly. I presented the proposal to my superiors, who grudgingly approved the expense. By the time the factory resumed partial operation it was time for me to go. Exhausted and disheartened, I left the factory, knowing I had to get home shower and brighten my spirits before I met June at Rastrellis for dinner. 

I didn’t want to spoil our anniversary. My mood was foul from a frustrating day, but I managed to pull myself together and buried my stress deep enough to put a smile on my face. I made it to the restaurant with a gift and a dozen roses in hand. 

I walked into the Rastrellis, the rich aroma of garlic and fresh herbs immediately enveloping me. The soft lighting and elegant decor did little to ease the tension from my bad day at work. My shoulders felt tight, and my mind raced with the events of the day, but I forced myself to focus on the evening ahead.

The hostess, a young woman with a warm smile, greeted me at the entrance. "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," I replied, giving her my name. "I'm meeting my wife for our anniversary."

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