“You want me to be your maid of honor?”

“Yes!” she hurriedly replied. “Momma already scheduled our engagement party for Christmas Eve, and the wedding is in May. May seventh, the anniversary of when she and Daddy were married. So, would you? Please?”

How could I say no, she was my baby sister. “Of course I will. It would be my honor.”

“Now, I’m thinking the color of the gowns should be fuchia,” she said, eyes bright. “Momma wants peach, but I don’t care what she wants, it’s my wedding. I want the bridesmaids’ gowns to stop right above the knee. And laced chokers around the neck. For my gown I’m thinking backless, long and flowing. I want my hair to be pinned up with a laced sash, and I want my shoes to be…”

As she went on and on into that zone so typical of brides-to-be, I slipped into an out-of-body experience. It was like I was standing across the room watching myself sitting there talking to her. I imagined my future. Year after year, bride after bride, I would be the one sitting there listening to another Moore woman plan for their special day, when they would be the headliner, the star of their own show. And there I’d be, just like Aunt Joann, the wedding planner, getting older, growing colder. There I’d be…the last living Moore family child born female who had never been married.

Chapter 5

7:00 A.M. EST
WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 4TH

ENGAGEMENT PARTY COUNTDOWN:
20 DAYS, 13 HOURS TO “E-DAY”

It was a beautiful late autumn morning. Vibrant shades of golden orange leaves covered the trees outside my window. The sun’s piercing rays shone through the glass, bounced off my hardwood floors, ricocheted off my hanging mirror, and finally found its way to my face. My eyes squinted as the pouring light illuminated the room.

A week had passed since my disastrous ordeal with Graham and the double blow of finding out about Sheree’s engagement and ensuing party. I had fully digested my Thanksgiving meal but I had not yet fully digested Graham. Thoughts of him still lingered, haunting my body like bad beef. Tired of feeling bad, I was determined that this day would be the first day of the rest of my life.

This would be a day free of yesterday’s grief, devoid of yesterday’s Graham. Today I would focus on my healing. The key to healing was admitting your pain and taking responsibility for your own actions. Focusing on your own personal role in creating your pain, not on the perpetrator of your pain. Now, it’s not like I’m some expert on putting the emotional pieces of one’s life back together, but I heard about the process on Oprah . And since her show is the infallible, undeniable, unadulterated gospel of pain and suffering, I figured it’s at least worth trying.