I tried to forgive them. I really did, but some things in life are simply unforgivable. I loved Caleb, and my best friend Aubrey knew it. She knew that Caleb was the best thing that had ever happened to me. He lit up my world. He was my first true love.
When Caleb asked me to marry him that fall day at the depot, I said yes without batting an eye. We celebrated by having mind blowing, earth shattering sex right there and toasting our happiness in the afterglow with a chilled bottle of wine.
Aubrey seemed more than willing to celebrate with me and help plan the wedding. She was to be my maid of honor. A week after Caleb’s proposal, Aubrey met Steve and it seemed that she had found happiness too. Everything appeared perfect. Caleb and Steve became best buddies and inseparable. Soon the four of us seemed to always be together. I don’t know at what point I started doing more of the wedding planning alone, but it happened. It was such a busy time. I was so blissfully happy and obviously blind. The day of the rehearsal dinner all three of them disappeared. No one had seen or heard from any of them since the night before.
Naturally I went looking for them at the depot. It is where we always hung out. Caleb and Steve had been helping the owners renovate it so naturally I assumed they would be there. I hadn’t planned on finding my future husband and Steve engaged in sex with my best friend nude and drunk as a skunk watching. It was a rude awakening to discover that my soon to be husband was not only bi-sexual but perhaps preferred Steve to me. It was the ultimate betrayal!
Stunned and appalled, I was sickened by my discovery. Anguished, I rushed to my car and drove. I don’t even remember where I went or what I did exactly, but I do remember going back. The events of that day are still surreal to me. I was distraught and in shock, shocked even more to find Daddy’s gun in my purse later. I simply cleaned it, and put it back where it belonged, no harm done. The next day, I feigned surprise when not one of the merry threesome was at the church. Coolly I donned sequins, lace, and an obnoxious amount of satin and waited expectantly for the organist to strike up the wedding march.
I didn’t have to wait long. They had been found. The police arrived at the church and broke the news of the homicide scene they had discovered at the depot upon extinguishing the fiery inferno that had demolished the place. The revelation put an abrupt halt to my impending wedding. I produced the required shock, hysterics, and tears. My dear father, the minister, asked the entire congregation to envelop me with love, prayers, and the goodness of the mighty Jesus as I cried my eyes out. After all, I was the congregation’s darling. They had watched me grow up, and in this one horse town, the church community protected their own in everything. Forgiveness from all sin could be found with Jesus. Everyone knew that.
Looking at an old photo of the depot years later, I reminisced. I could have tried to forgive them, but forgiveness has never been my forte. I have often wondered which sin was greater, mine, theirs, are all those well-meaning folks who did everything in their power to look the other way and cover it up. At any rate, vengeance was sweet.