“Dex asked me to tell you goodbye for him. He had an early football practice this morning,” he informs me. “His mom picked him up.” He brings the cup to his lips.

“Oh, yeah, okay.” I stand here awkwardly shifting back and forth.

“Take a seat, Chrissy.” He motions toward the chair, and I hesitate before eventually sitting down.

Mr. Prescott talks to me about nothing important, just how’s school and my teachers. He never mentions the fight or Dex at all. I’m thankful he doesn’t dig into where I slept last night or how I got Dex mixed-up in the fight. It’s embarrassing to always be the basket case his son needs to rescue. A half hour later, my dad joins us with his hair stuck up in every direction, smelling like a scotch distillery.

16 years old

Dex: How are things there?

Chrissy: Nothing different. On the plus side I made Dean’s list this semester.

Dex: That’s awesome congratulations.

Chrissy: If I can keep it up, hopefully I’ll get out of this hell hole. Have you ever wished for time to speed up?

Dex: Honestly, not really. Maybe a few times on weekends with my dad.

Chrissy: I can’t wait until I graduate and escape this life. Anyway, did you win your game last night? Sorry, I didn’t make it, but I just got this job and couldn’t get off.

Dex: We won and went out to celebrate for pizza afterwards. No big deal, I understand work.

Chrissy: You understand work? Dex, you’ve never had to work. LOL

Dex: Yeah, well my mom makes me do a shitload around here. Especially lately with the wedding.

Chrissy: When are the upcoming nuptials? Your cousin actually asked me to be her date.

Dex: Six weeks. Hey, you should come?

Chrissy: Um…I don’t know.

Dex: Come on, it will be fun. A few of my friends are coming.

Chrissy: Okay

YOU’D THINK I’D know better by now than to mix my dad’s side with my mom’s. But no, here we go again. I stuck my foot in my mouth by pushing Chrissy to come to my mom’s wedding. I hate even the thought of introducing Chrissy to my friends, without even considering Tori, my girlfriend. I tried to keep it quiet, not allowing Tori to know the possibility of getting invited was even viable. Then two weeks ago my mom asked her if she was coming. I kind of had hoped to spend time with Chrissy; it’s been so distant between us lately. The few times Chrissy’s made it to my games, we chat for a few minutes after I head out of the locker room, which I always either make sure I’m last or first. It’s not that I’m ashamed of Chrissy, it’s the opposite, actually. I’m ashamed of who I become in front of my friends.

Things between Chrissy and I are different. They’ll always be that way. Sometimes after I’m with her, my mind races through the thought of what we could be. If things were different, if I didn’t live with my mom, we’d be closer. Who knows, maybe in some alternate universe we’d be dating. The other night, my mom was watching some damn movie called Pretty in Pink, and all I could think about was Chrissy. Not that I’m super rich like that Blain dude and we don’t attend the same high school, but our drastic differences in life can’t be denied.

Walking into my mom’s room, my Aunt Kim and my mom’s best friend, Diane, help Mom secure her veil. She’s so beautiful; no one would believe she has a sixteen-year-old son. Then again, when you get pregnant at nineteen, you’re destined to be a young mother. If I bet on how many times people thought she was my sister—well, I’d be my dad. My dad’s an asshole for letting her out of his grasp, and my step-dad hit the jackpot because of it.

“Oh, Dexter, you look so handsome.” My aunt comes over and begins pinning a flower to the lapel of my tuxedo.

“Dex,” I correct her, and she rolls her chestnut eyes.

“Are you ready to walk your mom down the aisle, Dex?” She stresses my shortened name. “Although I guess it’s better than Edge,” she remarks, turning her head toward my mom, who nods and crinkles her nose.

“Yeah,” I answer, trying to keep this conversation on course. If the topic veers in my father’s direction, we’ll never make it to the garden.

My dad is okay. He paid his child support. He picked me up on weekends. He even made it to the majority of my junior varsity games, as long as they weren’t at night. Now that I’m on varsity football, I can already assume his spot will be vacant unless he loses his Friday night poker game.

When my mom stands, her lips turn up slightly and her hands run down the sides of her white wedding dress. It’s a little poufy, but I guess she likes that fairy godmother kind of look. Swishing toward me, I lean down the twelve inches and kiss her on the cheek. “Ted’s going to be one happy man,” I remark, not wanting to get all gushy and sappy, even though I’m ecstatic she’s finally found love.

“Thank you, honey,” she says, and my aunt hands Mom her bouquet of white lilies. Linking arms with me, I escort her out of her master bedroom that she’s been sharing with Ted for over a year. Stopping at the top of the staircase, I walk down first to wait for my mom as my aunt and Diane hold the train.

Once we reach the bottom, the light elevator music can faintly be heard from outside. Finding our grandfather clock, I discover we’re about five minutes late. Not very characteristic of my mom, but it’s her day. Diane peeks her head out the side door and the soft lulling music halts before picking back up in the wedding march. My mom shoos Diane and Kim out the door after they each gush over her with kisses and hugs, already exclaiming their congratulations.

“You like him, right?” her voice low and unsteady, as she examines a bead on her dress.

“Yeah,” I answer, and her shaking hand grabs onto mine.

“You’d tell me, right?” she continues to question, and I wonder if this is cold feet.

“Yeah,” I say again.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Enough with the sentimental crap, the song we rehearsed to last night commences and I open the door to exit first. She links her arm in mine and I guide her to the array of white folding chairs in front of a man-made arch that Ted’s sister decorated. All two hundred people stand and turn their sole attention to us. Women holding hands over their hearts with mouths slightly open and men’s hands clenched together in front of their waists.

A few of my friends try to appear all proper, standing up straight in their suits. Tori is next to them, along with her best friend, Bree. She smiles to me, and I return it before the sight of Chrissy steals my attention away when I spot her the next row up with my cousin right beside her. Her blue dress clings against her newly developed chest and then flows out over her long lean legs. Man, I don’t remember those legs. It’s only been six months since I saw her at my dad’s party for his birthday. Chrissy’s eyes flicker with giddiness when she sees my mom, but when they veer over to me afterwards, they drop down to focus on the ground.

I give my mom away to Ted and take a seat next to my grandparents in the front row. My uncle clasps his hand on my shoulder from the row behind us, congratulating me on a good job. Everyone sits quietly while my mom and Ted repeat their vows and claps explode when they’re presented as Mr. and Mrs. Ted Robinson.

SNEAKING THE ALCOHOL from the half-filled cups the guests left behind, my friends and I hide behind the bushes next to the garage. Tori won’t leave the dance floor with Bree, which allows me to have fun with my friends. I’m about to leave the safe and hidden confines behind the garage when I hear my mom calling me.