Disaster of the year

Gabriel

The mirror I was in front of me perfectly reflected how I felt - it showed the man with a deep frown on his forehead, eyebrows furrowed like he was lost in thought. In doubt, more precisely. A doubt whether he was doing the right thing.

Right or entirely wrong, it was too late, and that realization made the white shirt I was wearing tighten around me like a cage, but it wasn’t the shirt’s fault - my skin was a size too small for me, but unfortunately, I could not shed it and grow a new one like snakes could.

I knew what I was getting into, and I had no problems with it until now, but this man that held my gaze in the mirror made me question my decision. Marriage. A point from which there was no return. An act of will that shall change my life forever.

Spending the rest of my life with Molly seemed like an appealing idea. She was beautiful, well-educated, and from a respected family, and we had a spark. She would make a fine wife and a good mother, and I could imagine us growing old together. It was what I always believed a man needed from a woman. Then why was this anxiety boiling in me?

A loud knock on the door snapped me back to reality, and I turned around to see my best man storming in. A glance at his panicked face, and Ryan was never the one to panic, raised the fine hair on the back of my neck, telling me something was very wrong before he uttered a single word.

“Man, we have a problem!” Ryan exclaimed, and the seriousness that his voice was colored with made my blood run cold. “She’s gone.”

I stared at him, not blinking for a few moments. My mind stubbornly refused to process the information he presented me. “Who’s gone?”

“Your bride, Gabe.” Ryan frowned. “Molly.”

First thing I felt upon hearing her name was - relief. A giant boulder rolled off my back, the one I wasn’t entirely aware of until it wasn’t there anymore.

As the fact that Molly was gone minutes before we were supposed to meet at the altar settled, I realized there would be no one by my side to bear the consequences of her selfish actions.

Relief was too quickly replaced with anger and panic. She left! Molly fucking left! I did this for her, and she bailed!

When my teeth started hurting, I realized I was clenching my jaw tightly. It was the wrong way to channel the urge to kill, so I relieved the pressure. I swallowed a hard lump stuck in my throat, brought up by a quick rolling of the possible scenarios that could come up from this mess.

“Are you sure?” I pulled my hand through my hair nervously, my mind working 100 miles per second as I tried to assess the situation.

“She left a note, man.” Ryan jerked back. “Her mother found it a few minutes ago, and a search party already started, though I don’t expect they’ll be lucky.”

There was no doubt.

As the fury boiled up in me, I passed around Ryan and stormed out of the room I occupied for the occasion of getting ready. While walking down the hall of the Scott villa, where I was supposed to say my vows, the only thing I could think about was the moment the press discovered this. It will be a piece of deliciousness for them, a story to sell. But my family, business, and company were only my problem! A scandal of these proportions could bring everything to an end.

“Son,” it was my father’s distressed voice calling out for me, but I paid it no mind. I ignored him and walked right by with one goal - to find Scotts and vent some of my anger on them.

I had a vague idea where the room where Molly was supposed to get dressed was located; east wing, ground floor. Something told me they would be there. An hour ago, the press arrived, and they would have to deal with them. They would have to tell everyone the wedding was canceled.

Douglas and Arabella were where I imagined they would be, and they didn’t seem happy to see me show up so soon. Arabella looked like she would collapse at any second, and Douglas didn’t look better. To say that I didn’t feel any compassion for their state would be nothing but the truth, harsh and cold but the truth. I had my own misery to ponder about.

“Gabriel…” Arabella yelped. That’s when I noticed a piece of paper in her hand. Without a word, I crossed the distance that separated us and grabbed it. I had to see it for myself.

Blinded with hatred, I looked at the paper soaked with tears.

‘I can’t do this, Mom.

I’m sorry. I love you, Dad.

Please, forgive me.’

As much as I wanted to see something between these lines that would indicate this was a prank or that my bride-to-be had been kidnapped or taken against her will, there was nothing but the simplest goodbye.

I crumbled the note and exhaled the breath I was holding, trying to calm my raging heart. Molly was, indeed, gone.

“How could you let this happen?!” I yelled from the top of my lungs but got no answer. I wanted to strangle someone, anyone! Rage didn’t begin to cover what I felt at that moment. No, not even close! “This is your fault. Fix it! I don’t care how, just fix it!” I dropped the note on the floor, turned around, and left, leaving everything behind.

Someone else will have to do the damage control and announce that the most expected wedding of the year was canceled. Someone else would have to deal with gathered guests and reporters.

Heading straight to the lot where my car was parked, I acknowledged my parents again and, without stopping, told them to leave this place, too, before all hell broke loose.

Leaving the estate in the cloud of dust tires raised, I sped off. I needed to get out of there as far as possible. I needed space, and I needed time. I needed to be alone and away. I needed to think. Or better yet, I needed not to think. But no matter the miles I put between myself and the house that became my personal hell, I failed to find a resting place for my mind.

After hours of aimless driving around, I found myself in a relatively calm part of the town. The neighborhood was unfamiliar, but that was exactly what I wanted — a lesser chance for people to recognize me.

I cruised the streets for some time, looking for a…, and there it was! A bar!

Was the plan to drink myself into oblivion stupid? Yes.

Did I have any intention of stopping myself from doing it? No.

In the end, you’re not abandoned at the altar every day. I needed to forget everything now, and I’d think about the rest tomorrow.

Finding a parking spot a few blocks down the street, I locked the car and headed to the bar on foot. The shed was half empty, exactly how I hoped it would be, and I didn’t mind smoke, dirt, and low lights, not even the questionable clientele scattered around.

I found a chair at the bar and waved at the bartender.

“What can I get you, mister?” a bruiser-looking guy whose skin was covered in tattoos asked.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

A moment later, what I asked for was in front of me - a glass filled with the desired liquor. I picked it up and saluted it to the bartender before bottoming it up.

“Another one!” I demanded. “And keep them coming.”