Past Love

I dreamt of her.

I didn't want to, but I did. Some part of me deep down inside wanted to see her one last time.

I woke in the shadows. The crowd escaping from the darkness behind me. The sepia light bent around corners making a bold but bland statement. I mostly knew people in the crowd, her family, our friends. Somehow some of my friends slipped in there.

The chapel was between a beach and city my subconscious built. It was a place I've built multiple times. Yet I have not returned to this place.

Most of the men were dressed in black suits with slim ties and others in the back dressed more casual. I was in the back. I would have worn a suit out of respect but I didn't think they deserved my effort. I wore black shorts, and a white Hawaiian shirt, half unbuttoned.

The groom was roughly my height, maybe a little taller. He wore the same black suit and slim tie as the other men. The women wore secondary color dresses. Tight. Not slimming, but tight. Everyone was happy. Her parents eagerly waited for her to walk down the aisle. I stood in the back with the casuals. The family and friends laughed and smiled.

Us in the back attended a funeral.

There was nothing spectacular I saw about her dress. It was a simple black dress that stopped just above her ankles. Her blonde hair cut shorter than I had remembered. I remember seeing people crying, some for joy. Others lost someone. I don't remember the ceremony. Afterwards, all the women formed a semi-circle around him. They cheered and hugged him. He was celebrated.

The men and I stood around her. She waited for a cheer. It was silent. Only her father looked at her, proud. I looked at her. She smiled back. She didn't look at her father, just me. Of course she did. Part of me wanted to hold her gaze for longer. She looked at me as if I was the one who put the ring on her finger. I didn't. And looking back at it, I'm glad I didn't. I smiled back. My hands folded in my pockets, and I shifted my weight on one foot giving her a pose before she forgot me.

The reception was near a cliff. The wind swept the cool breeze through the heat. The family noticed I stole glances at her and were unsure if they should talk to me or me to them. Congratulations. Congratulations. Con-grat-u-la-tions.

I was near her thinking of going up with a genuine smile. I overheard her say my name, write something down and give it to her brother. He came over and handed me a yellow envelope with her note inside. He told me she said to meet her at the place where two phones met. We were both confused. I had a feeling I knew where that was and decided not to go. But the women convinced me saying now was my chance. Chance to what?

I left the venue, passed the resort, the tall lounge chairs, down to the taller beach chairs planted in the rocks. Her right leg dangled over her left. She was reading her book. I opened her letter and she spoke what I read.

"He healed me."

I wanted to know who? From what? I didn't ask. I was happy she was healed. She took in a sharp breath but I already turned away, and didn't stop. Whatever else she wrote or said I wanted to know but. There are some details I need not know.

"Come along, my son." He said. He placed His arm around me and walked me up the stairs. "It hurts but she's in good hands."

Her husband passed me.

I felt his eyes turn back to see me. I knew nothing about but, but I can tell he cared.

"It doesn't hurt as bad as I thought it would." I told Him. I didn't look back. There was no need. She was healed.