As of Yet Untitled
Chapter Six
By: Karisma
Genre: Romance, Alt
Rated: PG-13
Karisma456@hotmail.com
September 2000

     The day of the wedding snuck up on all of us—except, of course, 
Rita. I 
couldn’t prove it, but I had a tiny suspicion that the woman was 
counting 
the seconds until her name would change to Sandborn.
     I woke up early that day, all traces of sleep gone from my body, 
and 
excitement coursing through my veins. I had grown up with this 
boy—albeit 
reluctantly—and now he was getting married.
     I, of course, had chosen this day to sleep through my alarm clock. 
I 
finally woke up when my mother was announcing breakfast. Even whirlwind 
Serena couldn’t get ready that fast. So, after some quick adjustments, 
it 
was decided that I would ride to the chapel with Andrew and instead of 
the 
girls. Darien was already at the chapel, along with Melvin and Chad, 
doing 
whatever it was that best men—not man—do.
     Soon enough, I was ready in loose track pants and a shirt, racing 
along 
my driveway to where Andrew was waiting patiently for me. I must of 
looked 
ridiculous with my dress trailing behind me, but at least I had nixed 
the 
idea of rollers.
     “Hey,” I said breathlessly as I slouched in my seat. I gently 
placed 
the plastic wrapped dress in the back seat next to Andrew’s suit and 
turned 
to him. The groom was, indeed, looking a peculiar mixture of queasiness 
and 
scared excitement.
     “Cold feet?” I diagnosed, smirking slightly as he furiously shook 
his 
head in denial.
     After a moment of staring at dubiously, one brow cocked, he 
finally 
gave in. “Oh, all right. Maybe just a little.” He sighed in resignation 
when 
I fixed him with another look. He made a sharp turn and rolled his 
eyes. 
”Okay, okay. A lot. I’m scared. I’m petrified. Happy now?”
     I laughed and ruffled his sandy hair. “But you’ll go through with 
it. 
You have to. Otherwise you’ll be chased out of the church with about a 
hundred—if not more—guests at your tail. Not to mention one ticked off 
bride 
and a few bridesmaids!”
     Andrew laughed genuinely at the mental picture and shook his head. 
“I 
want to get married to Rita. I love her. But the idea of getting 
married.” 
He gave a low whistle. “That’s—well, that’s…”
     “A shocker.” I finished, smiling.
     He furrowed his brow. “Pardon?” He raised his eyebrows.
     “Oh come on,” I gripped the dashboard as he made another turn. 
Where 
did he learn to drive? “You were after girls even before your hormones 
changed and puberty hit. Between you and Darien, I figured the world 
would 
be turned off the Sandborns’ in the maximum of a year.”
     Andrew laughed deeply, flashing the same smile I had been blessed 
to 
see practically all my life. That was the one thing they had in common: 
their smiles were identical. Or their genuine ones, I couldn’t remember 
seeing Darien laugh so candidly the entire time I’d been back.
     “We weren’t that bad. Actually, Darien still is that bad. I can’t 
blame 
him though, not after—“ Andrew was interrupted by two sharp honks. My 
curiosity about what Andrew was about to say disappeared when I caught 
sight 
of Darien in the parking lot, in his suit for the wedding, leaning over 
his 
cherry-red convertible, hand on the center of the steering wheel. He 
looked 
mildly impatient.
     “I guess that’s my signal to go,” Andrew said sheepishly and it 
was 
clear to me whatever he was planning on saying a few moments before had 
flown from his mind.
     Before I could remind him, he was out of the car in a flash, 
winking 
back at me before jogging up to his brother and slinging his suit over 
his 
right shoulder. I sighed in disappointment and grabbed my own dress, 
waving 
courteously to Darien as we made eye contact, completely aware of the 
rumpled sight I made--looking as if I had just rolled out of bed.
     As I got ready with the other girls and fussed over our blushing 
bride, 
Rita, I resolved to find out what Andrew had begun to spill about 
Darien. A 
secret of Darien’s. The notion shouldn’t have excited me as much as it 
did, 
but what could I do about it? It was probably just my teenage years 
watching 
detective shows and mystery movies catching up to me. It could be 
anyone’s 
secret and it would thrill me just as much.
     Right?
     “Serena, you look absolutely lovely!” Mina’s voice interrupted my 
chain 
of thoughts and brought me to look at my reflection in the mirror. I 
found 
Mina, looking wonderful in her lavender, off-the-shoulder gown, behind 
me. 
She began to weave iris in twist I had pulled my hair up into. I smiled 
at 
her gratefully, admiring the matching flowers in her hair and Raye had 
no 
doubt fixed.
      “Thanks, Mina. You look great!”
      “Shouldn’t we be showering all these compliments on the bride?” 
Raye’s 
light voice entered our conversation and we both looked up to see her, 
the 
same flowers contrasting beautifully with her ebony hair.
     “Yes, but just think: if we all look this good, imagine how 
gorgeous 
Rita must be!” Mina exclaimed, patting my bare shoulder as a signal she 
was 
finished. I adjusted the criss-crossing straps on the back of my dress 
and 
turned to face them, a bright smile on my lightly made-up face.
     “I have to agree with you on that, Mina. I do look much better 
than all 
of you unmarried women.” Rita joined our party and we all laughed at 
her 
tone, dripping with fake disdain.
     “You’re not married yet, you know,” Raye reminded, fidgeting with 
Rita’s simple, white gown. She had opted for the minimal amount of lace 
and 
beads, leaving her with a silk, thinly strapped dress that was tight 
down to 
her hips and then fell out softly.
     “Andrew’s going faint when he sees you in this,” Mina gently 
pushed 
Rita into a sitting position facing the mirror and away from us. She 
picked 
up a brush and fanned out Rita’s soft brown hair around her neck and 
shoulders. She signaled for Raye to bring the veil and carefully pinned 
it 
to the top of Rita’s head. She then stood back to examine her work.
     Rita stood up, pushing the Victorian chair back and stared at 
herself 
in the mirror. A flash of pain swept her face and I knew she was 
thinking of 
her parents and wishing they could be here—especially her mother. 
Andrew had 
informed me they had died tragically in a car crash. Well, a woman’s 
wedding 
day was no event to be depressed at, I decided.
     “Do you have something old, something new, something borrowed, 
something blue?” I asked, flashing her my brightest smile. I was 
thankful 
when she smiled back.
     “The earrings are heirlooms, the necklace is new, I borrowed the 
eye 
shadow, and,” she hefted her white skirt and planted her heeled foot on 
the 
chair revealing a delicate, blue and gold butterfly anklet. She 
grinned. We 
all burst out laughing, taking in the view of a prim bride in such a 
position.
    We heard the distinct sound of an organ starting and immediately 
exchanged looks with each other. We took turns hugging Rita and exited 
the 
door. I was the last to leave and when I turned to close the door, I 
caught 
a glimpse of Rita staring at her reflection, hands nervously fingering 
the 
veil behind her.
     “Good-bye, Rita Evans,” she whispered to herself and gently let 
the 
lace conceal her face. I quickly slipped out the door before my 
presence was 
discovered and smiled softly to myself. This was a big step Rita was 
taking—Andrew too. But it was one I wanted to take soon—unlike 
misogynists 
like Darien Sandborn. That thought only brought back my curiosity of 
what 
Andrew had been about to say by a tenfold.
    “Shall we?” Darien’s low voice startled me immensely. I jumped and 
blushed when I heard his deep laugh behind me. I whirled around to face 
him 
only to find he had moved to the other side of me. I finally met him 
face-to-face and scowled at his amused grin. Reluctantly, I gave him my 
arm 
to link with, prepared to walk down the aisle with him. Instead, he 
took my 
hand gently and softly kissed it, maintaining eye contact with me the 
entire 
time.
     I sucked in my breath involuntarily and prayed he hadn’t heard. It 
was 
impossible to tell from his reaction. It was collected and cool once 
again. 
The mask set firmly in place. We slowly began to walk, big smiles in 
place. 
My hands felt damp and permanently stuck to the bouquet of white lilies 
I 
was holding. After assuring myself several times that my childishly 
sweaty 
palms were out of nervousness for Rita, and not because of my close 
proximity to Darien, or the fact that our bodies brushed every time we 
took 
a step.
     After what seemed like much to long—or was it much too short—we 
parted 
and took our respective places. I ignored the rush of coolness after 
his 
warm body had left the space next to mine, and watched the double doors 
for 
Rita, my smile never faltering.
     The organ changed tunes and Rita entered, a grin of true happiness 
and 
joy etched on her lovely features. My smile widened as she began her 
slow 
descent to her new life as Rita Sandborn and I turned to see the 
reaction of 
Andrew as he saw his bride. The look on his handsome face was 
memorable. The 
mixture of emotions playing on his shocked face could tell a story. He 
was 
first awed by Rita’s presence and beauty. He then moved on to soft and 
tender admiration for the woman he loved, and finally settled on 
arrogant 
glee that this was the woman that would be promised only to him.
    My gaze drifted off to the other best men and, as if drawn by a 
magnet, 
landed on Darien. He, much to my surprise, was also gazing at me, so 
when I 
turned to him, we made direct eye contact. I stared, unable to break 
eye 
contact, and he looked right back. After a moment, he winked and with a 
grin, casually turned his attention back to the bride. I blinked in 
surprise, not able to confirm if he had actually winked, or if it had 
been 
my active imagination. One thing I derived from his behavior that I was 
sure 
of. It was painfully obvious the “moment” we had shared had affected me 
much 
more than him.
     The wedding passed in a blur and before I knew it, the dinner had 
almost been completed and dancing had commenced. After Rita and Andrew 
had 
taken the dance floor alone for a slow song, more people joined.
      I sipped my champagne and looked at my parents, who were slow 
dancing 
dreamily, as if on their honeymoon. I shook my head ruefully and leaned 
back 
against the wall, fingering a fallen string of platic ivy that had 
originally been hanging over the doorway as a decoration.
     After a few moments, I felt somebody next to me and wasn’t all 
that 
surprised to see Darien leaning to an angle, one shoulder against the 
wall 
and facing directly toward me. He had one hand in his black trouser 
pockets 
and it only served as a reminder of how well he filled out his suit.
     “I think your aunt is about to sing,” I gestured to Darien’s 
mother’s 
sister, who had gotten up on stage and adjusting the microphone to her 
tall 
height.
     Darien gently took the flute from my hand and placed it on a 
nearby 
table. He then firmly grasped my smaller hands in both of his and 
tugged me 
slightly. “I think you and I are about to dance.”
     I gave no objection as he led me to a spot on the dance floor 
slightly 
separated from the other couples. Not sure how to position myself, I 
maintained a reasonable distance and put one hand on his strong 
shoulder, 
letting the other stay in his larger one. I forced myself to look at a 
certain spot right over his shoulder and was—needless to say—surprised 
when 
he pulled me closer to him, letting the heat from his body envelope me 
almost immediately. His hands intertwined around my waist, and having 
nothing to do with my hands, I let them circle around his neck, my 
cheek 
pressed against his chest, hearing his distinct heartbeat.
     The mood was all together too peacefully romantic for my liking 
and I 
immediately felt the need to lighten it somehow.
     “So when do I start work?” I tipped my head back and smiling 
cheerfully 
into his face.
     He didn’t smile back, but his face wasn’t as harsh and etched in 
stone 
as it normally was. “Look around you, Serena.” He moved us in a slow 
circle, 
allowing me to take in the white, silver and gold  decorations, 
beautiful 
flowers, and happy people swaying in time to the slow music. “What do 
you 
see?”
     I was slightly confused, to say the least. “I see a reception 
taking 
place.” I answered slowly, feeling as though this was some sort of a 
test.
     “Yes,” he smiled and I squelched down the fluttery feeling in my 
stomach long enough to realize I was lost on where his point was 
leading.
     “And…” I prompted, furrowing my brow. My neck was starting to ache 
from 
leaning back to hold this conversation with him.
     “Well, it seems somewhat crass to speak only of work when we’re at 
such 
an event, don’t you agree?” Without waiting for a reply, he tugged me 
toward 
him, bringing my head to meet his chest once again in an intimate 
position 
that I was starting to—much to my dismay—like.
     “So what do you propose we talk about?” I asked, desperate to hold 
some 
sort of reality—being it in form of light chit-chat—to this surreal 
dance.
     “Nothing,” he murmured softly in my ear and somewhere in the 
crevices 
of my mind, a panic button was pushed.
    I shoved myself away from his larger body and tore my eyes away 
from his 
surprised face. “I-uh-I,” I stumbled through the words and realized how 
possessed my actions—and ability not to form coherent sentences—seemed. 
“I 
think I need to offer my congratulations to the happy couple.” Without 
waiting for his reaction, I hurried off in the direction of safety. 
Where 
all the people were—away from Darien.
     “Andrew!” I exclaimed and cringed at over enthusiasm in my 
high-pitched 
voice. I could tell both he and Rita heard it when both their faces 
scrunched up in concern and bewilderment. I managed to control my 
voice. “So 
how does it feel to be tied down?”
     Rita laughed and hugged me. “It feels wonderful, Serena. But 
you’ll 
find out soon enough.”
     Andrew snorted and I glared at him. After a moment, the three of 
us 
laughed.
     I cleared my throat and grabbed Andrew’s arm. “You don’t mind if I 
steal him do you, Rita? I’m sure you’ll get sick of him by the time the 
honeymoon’s over, anyway!”
    Rita smiled, and I paused to think about how happy she looked. The 
woman 
practically glowed. A sharp pang in my heart told me just how much I 
wanted 
that. To be on top of the world when the love of my life merely smiled 
at 
me.
     Andrew’s over arrogant voice broke my nostalgic attitude. “I 
better go 
with her, Rita. She’s had a thing for me every since we were kids.”
     I socked him one in the arm and he feigned pain. “You wish, 
Sandborn.” 
We began dancing and I cleared my throat. This was the moment I had 
been 
waiting for. “Andrew, what were you saying earlier today?”
     “Huh?” Andrew’s brilliant answer came back to me.
     We slowly made a circle. “In the car, when we arrived at the 
church.” I 
prompted. “We were talking about marriage and how your brother couldn’t 
commit if a gun was pointed to his head.”
     Andrew chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “You’d be surprised, Serena 
dear.”
     My heart—or was it my stomach—gave a lurch. Did he have a steady 
girlfriend—one that would be his almost wife? Why didn’t he tell me? 
Why 
didn’t anybody tell me? And why did I care?
     “Although now I suppose he’ll never want to get married,” he 
sighed and 
shook his head regretfully.
     “Why not?” I practically trembled with anticipation as I found out 
how 
close to obtaining the information I so desperately wanted.
     Andrew laughed humorlessly. “Because of that slut, Melissa.” His 
tone 
hardened and I looked up in surprise. Carefree, without a trouble in 
the 
world Andrew looked angry enough to kill. This woman—Melissa—had 
obviously 
hurt his younger brother somehow and brotherly protection was showing. 
Then, 
as quickly as the cloud over his face had come, it passed. And the 
sunny 
grins Andrew usually displayed were once again on. “But that’s all in 
the 
past.”
     He looked ready to dismiss the entire unpleasant topic, but I 
wasn’t. I 
wanted—no needed—to know more. “Who is Melissa?”
     Andrew grimaced. “Melissa is Darien’s soon-to-be ex-wife.”