I push through the doors of the foyer and am hit by the scene unfolding before me. I’m unable to breathe, the air having left my lungs. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. There’s a bar fight at my wedding. I can hear the words in my mind, but I can’t comprehend their meaning. I’m standing still while everything moves in slow motion.
I see a table fallen over on its side, glass decorating its edges, remnants of wine creating swirling patterns on the floor. I’m vaguely reminded of a painting I’ve seen before, but the title escapes me. A flower arrangement has been knocked over, purple petals splattered on the tiles, its beauty now just a memory. Little groups of guests are scattered around, worried looks on their faces. I see them look at me, lean in toward each other, whispering. Some look with sympathy, others with disdain. Directly in front of me, I see a larger crowd. I can’t see my way through, but the group is composed of my family. The groom is nowhere to be found.
I hear someone mention my cousin’s name, something about a fight. I stand for a moment, baffled, wondering how one person could leave such havoc in his wake. I breathe. I take one more look around, pick up my dress, and head in for battle. I push my way through. The sight of my princess dress in tow parts the crowd like Moses parting the sea. I shove my way in until I am standing directly in front of him.
“What are you doing?” I shout. “What is wrong with you?”
My uncle comes up beside me and yells something at his son that I can’t comprehend behind the rush of adrenaline and savage anger coursing through my veins. I turn my attention to him.
“Amoo, get him out of here!” I demand. Then, I just keep screaming.
Before I know it, I’m yelling in Farsi. Words my grandmother used when we were kids that I’d forgotten I knew. All I’m aware of is the electric burn of anger that’s invaded my body.
And just like that, I become airborne. I don’t see it coming. I feel two hands circling my waist, whisking me away into the air, through the crowd. I feel the air rustle the edges of my dress as if I’m floating. I’m gently placed on my feet. I look up to see Thomas standing in front of me. It takes me a moment to understand his presence.
He looks at me, kindness filling his eyes when he says, “You’re not helping.” I reach out for him, but it’s too late. He turns, disappearing into the crowd.
There’s so much noise, but I don’t hear any of it. I can only hear the deafening silence surrounding my shattering heart. I start to cry. What I want to do is get up on a table and scream into the crowd, Don’t you know what I had to go through to get here? Don’t you know there are people in this very crowd thinking to themselves that they were right all along? That we were doomed from the start? But my voice is lost before my thoughts can form around the words. All I keep thinking is, How can this be happening?