Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
It’s the fifth time she’s come in and said that exact same thing. “Thanks, Mom. Has Dad figured out if—?”
“Yes, everyone’s arrived, everyone’s here.” She stands before me and sighs with delight. “My boy is all grown up into a soon-to-be married man. Are you ready to head on there? Everyone’s taken their seats and your Aunt Marney is gettin’ fidgety.”
I blink. Already? “I thought we still had an hour.”
“That was an hour ago, hon.”
I give myself another look in the mirror. I look pale. Is this really how I want to look on my wedding day? How can my mom possibly call this sickly, gaunt face handsome? Are those dark circles under my eyes?
“You need me to do your bowtie?” she offers.
I sigh, then surrender my neck to her. “I can’t get the thing to look right.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Today is the day you do not have to worry about a thing. We’ve all got you taken care of.” She’s already finished the bowtie, pulling it tight. “There. Perfect. Look at that. Now you’re ready.”
“If only they’d cut the AC a little,” I mutter as I turn to the mirror to inspect the bowtie. Yes, it’s perfect. “Feels like an icebox in here.”
She snorts. “That supposed to be funny, son?”
“What do you mean?”
When I turn back, I find my mother fanning herself. “The damned AC must be broken,” she says. “Everyone in the chapel is sweating. Especially those who showed up in costume, Lord help them, I think some poor soul showed up in a full-body purple orangutan suit.”
I stare at my mother.
My heart slows in horror.
Not because of the thought of big purple orangutans and Captain Americas and slutty cat people occupying the seats of the chapel.
But because I’m fighting shivers. “S-Sweating …?”
“Maybe it’s your nerves,” says my mother, pulling the words right from my thoughts a second ago. I am very much my mother’s son. “You just come along with me and Dad, you’ll see a room full of people who love you, and you march on down to meet the love of your life at the end of that aisle, alright now? Hon—?”
I undo my bowtie at once, pop the top two buttons of my shirt, then touch my neck.
It’s gone.
Mrs. Shaheen’s protective talisman.
I rummage through the mess on the counter. I pull clothes off of chairs and shove a box out of the way and yank open my backpack in a panic, then finally dump its contents onto the floor and search, wide-eyed. “Sweetie! What’s going on? What’d you lose?” cries my mom, but I’m already on my hands and knees searching beneath the counter and yanking open drawers.
“A n-necklace,” I finally sputter, my muscles tight and clenched from suppressing my sudden shivers. “It’s got a black chain and a cheap white skeleton charm.”
“Huh? I’ve never seen such a strange thing.”
“I-I-It’s m-my l-l-lucky necklace.” As if in spite, or perhaps because I’ve become aware of its absence, the shivers are coming on full-force. I feel ice cold sweat draw paths down my forehead. “M-M-Mom, I need it.”
“Is this some kinda superstition thing with you and Byron? Some kinda Halloween superstition thing?”
“I N-NEED IT!” I snap as I flip over a chair on my quest to forage across every inch of the unhelpfully dark carpet. I know I had the thing on when I got here.
Or did I? Was I stupid enough to take it off even for a second when I changed into my suit?
Why can’t I remember?
“Sweetheart, I don’t see any necklace anywhere. I think you’re gonna have to go on without it.”
“I c-c-can’t!”
“No one can even see it anyway, darling, since it’s underneath all of that adorable bowtie business around your neck. Can’t we look for it after the ceremony?”
“No!”
She takes a step back as I continue to throw myself at every corner of the room. I’m out of breath when at last I stop in front of the mirror again, shaking from my scalp to my pinky toes.
“I’m sayin’ this with love,” she murmurs quietly at the door, “but I think you’re having one of your attacks you’ve always had since you were a teenager. I can still recall like it was yesterday the night of your prom and how you obsessed over every little thing. Damned near bit my head off when you were looking for your red cufflinks you’d misplaced.”
“This isn’t the s-s-same,” I try to say.
She comes up to me and rubs my back. “Nothing is the same, I know, every situation is its own situation. I am just trying to help you. Everyone’s waiting. As is the rest of your beautiful life, son. Your pretty skeleton necklace, wherever a little trickster goblin hid it, will be waiting for you after you say your vows. You can wear it for the reception afterwards, alright?”