#uh..yeah

Amanda Wilson was a normal woman. She had a normal job, a normal family, and normal friends. What was not normal about her, she knew, was that she was angry at her best friend’s wedding. This was supposed to be the happiest day of Clarissa’s life, so Amanda should have been happy for her. She wasn’t, and she knew why. Amanda was angry because she was in love with Clarissa. She wanted to be in Mark’s place, but she wasn’t and never would be. Instead of standing where she wanted to be, Amanda watched Clarissa get ready and thought about what brought her here.

“My name’s Clarissa.”

Amanda looked at the girl who had just introduced herself. Her blonde curls bounced around her shoulders, a bright smile spread across her face as she looked at Amanda expectantly. Amanda looked around to ensure the girl–Clarissa–was talking to her, but there was no one else around.

“Amanda,” she extended her hand with caution and Clarissa took it eagerly. She began talking at a rapid pace Amanda could barely keep up with. Something about Amanda looking lonely at recess with a book and Clarissa being new and wanting to make friends. Amanda couldn’t keep up with all of it. Even so, as Clarissa talked and talked, Amanda relaxed more and more. Maybe she could have a friend.

“I hate boys.”

Clarissa was crying about her most recent breakup and Amanda was comforting her…again. You say that every week. Amanda kept that thought to herself.

“Understandable,” she said instead. Clarissa just sobbed into her shirt and Amanda stroked her hair comfortingly. She silently wished they could sit like this under different circumstances. Clarissa in her arms, not upset this time, Amanda running her hands over her hair, the two just sitting together, and enjoying each other. Amanda wanted that, but she couldn’t yet pinpoint why. That uncertainty wouldn’t last long.

“I think I love him, Amanda.”

I think I love you, Clarissa. Amanda didn’t say that. She said to tell him. They had met Mark 2 months ago on a girls’ night and Clarissa was enamoured. Amanda drank more than she should have that night. The two exchanged phone numbers and Clarissa’s phone was going off every minute of every day. Every message was Mark. With every buzz, ding, and notification, Amanda grew more resentful of the man, but she would never let Clarissa know that.

“He proposed!”

Amanda sobbed into her father’s arms that night.

“I do.”

Amanda steeled herself as she heard Clarissa say those words. She said those words to Mark, not her. Amanda had known it would never be her, but there was always the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could tell Clarissa, and Clarissa would feel the same way, and they could be together. Amanda didn’t do anything but stand at Clarissa’s side, not as her wife, but the maid of honor, and smile.

“Speech!”