Reflection- A fiction piece

As I stand here in front of the mirror, I’m suddenly reminded of my first best friend. Her name was Ashley, and we used to play “wedding” every day after preschool while my Nana babysat us. She was always the bride and I was the groom. Ashley would wear her white Easter dress and I would steal one of my dad’s ties. Back then, I might as well have been a boy. I ate dirt. I played with worms. One time, when I was five, I even tried to pee standing up over the toilet.

When I started middle school Ashley moved away to another city. During gym class I met a girl named Samantha, and she introduced me to makeup. The first day I came downstairs with bright red lipstick on, my mom laughed out loud and asked, “Is the circus coming to town?” I had my first kiss at summer camp between 7th and 8th grade. His name was Tommy Sitterson. His breath smelled like Doritos mixed with tic tacs. Needless to say I was left disappointed.

My older brother Josh convinced me to try out for field hockey when I began my freshman year of high school. He insisted that sports were the key to popularity. What he failed to tell me was that playing field hockey was the fastest way to turn into a lesbian. I quit after one season. I found my place on the student council sophomore year and fell in love with the president of the senior class. Something about the way his eye brows moved up and down while he gave his speeches just made my heart race. He took me on a date to Applebee’s and afterwards I let him feel me up in the back seat of his Mustang Convertible. We never spoke again.

After graduation, I started community college with a major in criminal justice. My mom always told me I would make a good detective, like the ones on CSI. To pay for school I got a job as a cocktail waitress at one of the upscale night clubs in town. Dancing paid more but I couldn’t bring myself to that. My second semester of school I met a guy named Alex in one of my science classes. He was in his late twenties, and had just decided to go back to school. He asked me out after our third week of class together. On our first date he took me to McDonald’s and we ordered cheeseburgers and shakes off the dollar menu. I offered to pay but he refused. He didn’t tell me that he had a child or that he had been married already until we had been dating for six months. By that point I was so in love that I didn’t care about his baby momma drama.

As I look at my reflection, I feel old yet young at the same time. My white dress makes me feel silly for trying to represent something for which I clearly am not. I should have gone with ivory. The doubts are starting to come. This is the part in the movie where the girl starts to panic about whether she made the right decision about getting married. Enter maid of honor here. The only thing I have is my fifteen year old cousin to use as I stand in; A stand in for the best friend that moved away, the best friends that slipped away, and all the best friends I never made. There are so many different thoughts going through my mind. Is 23 too young to be settling down? Should I have gone away to college? Am I ready be with someone forever? Whatever happened to my plans to road trip to California?
I turn my head to the sound of a knock on the door. My mom sticks her head in. I smile. She smiles back. “It’s time,” she says, barely above a whisper. I take a deep breath and blow the air out through my mouth. She opens the door all the way as I make my way over to her. “The happiest day of my life right?” I smile a cheesy grin and make my way out into the hall. Gracefully, I pick up my dress and begin my walk down the hall to start the beginning of the rest of my life.