Prologue : Part 2

Forever My Lady
by Jeff Rivera

(Page 2 of 2)

Was Spooky right? Should he just let it go, face it that she didn't want to be with him no matter how hard and bad it felt? Should he just forget the whole thing? Maybe he'd meet some other ruca. Time heals all wounds, they say, and maybe if he'd just - but no. Dio shoved those thoughts out of his mind.

He'd spent the last year changing his life around for her, so they could be together, so he would be the man she said she'd always wanted, so he could be the daddy his daughter needed. They were meant to be together and he was going to make Jennifer understand that, if it was the last thing he did.

He could see Jennifer's family in the front, dressed in their Sunday best. Her mom always made a spectacle of herself with her gigantic summer hat in purple. She never did like Dio and he knew she had probably orchestrated this whole thing, probably arranged the whole wedding herself.

He wondered if perhaps Jennifer was doing this just to make her mom happy, but then he saw her . . . the music changed, the children's choir sounded so beautiful, he had to admit, so irritatingly perfect. All heads turned and everyone gasped as the bride, Jennifer, made her way down the aisle. Her father took her arm, biting his lip, trying not to cry.

He looks nervous, Dio thought.

Jennifer looked incredible. How could she afford a dress like that? The guy must be rich or something. That's probably what it was. That's probably why she was marrying him. It had to be the money. The one thing Dio could never give her.

Her gown had a lace top, cut just low enough to show her sensual bustline, but high enough to showcase the first-class act that she was. Her face was shielded by her veil. He hadn't seen her in so long. It seemed like the whole congregation held its breath with him.

Her mom made a dramatic spectacle of herself. Her wails were the only thing that could be heard above the organ playing as the children's choir reached a crescendo, then trailed off. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Even Dio had to fight the tears.

Thunder rumbled. Her father escorted her over to her groom. He was a nice-looking man, a light-skinned black man. Maybe he was mulatto or something. He wore a striped, stuffed tie, not a traditional bow tie, and the tux must have been Armani or something. He had one of those smiles with teeth so white it blinded you. His gaze never left Jennifer, even as the priest rambled on and on with the vows.

"I, Antonio Estrella - "

What kind of nombre was that? Estrella? Jennifer Estrella. It just didn't match her. No le queda.

". . . hereby take you as my wife, to have and to hold . . ."

There was a lump in the back of Dio's throat. He wanted to burst out, "No!" It hurt so much.

"I, Jennifer Lalita Sánchez . . ."

He couldn't believe his ears; she was promising him her life. Thunder rumbled and the lights went out. There was a small gasp in the audience, but Jennifer just smiled, the candles illuminating her. She was too lost in the groom's eyes.

". . . to have and to hold, through sickness and health . . ." she continued.

He couldn't help it anymore. Tears came streaming from Dio's eyes. This was too much for him. He was about to explode. His blood boiled.

He looked around at all the stained-glass Bible stories, the creepy statue of Jesus on the cross. He swore Jesus was glaring right at him as if he were saying, "No lo hagas. . . don't do it." He looked the other way, but the statue of the Virgin Mary scolded him as well.

Dio couldn't help but think how proud his own mother had been with how he'd changed his life around, the tears of joy she'd shed. He'd never seen her like that before. He shuddered to think how his mother would feel after all this went down, how ashamed she'd be. Maybe it would drive her to drinking again. Drinking again, after how far she'd come around.

"With the power invested in me by the state of Nevada, I hereby declare you . . . man and wife."

Dio couldn't breathe. The only thing that kept him from passing out was seeing Jennifer's face as her new husband lifted the veil. She was more beautiful than ever. She had olive-colored skin and was the type of girl who never did need any makeup. In fact, she hated wearing it. But this time she was wearing just enough. Her dark brown hair was curled; glitter sparkled in it. She looked like an angel, no, a goddess, better than the pictures Dio drew of her, better than he'd remembered her looking in his dreams.

He'd never seen Jennifer so happy. Not even when she was with him. She had always seemed so distracted, but now she really did look like she was in love.

How could that be possible?

He loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone. Didn't she see that? How could she do this to him? The ice sculpture melted like it was on fire.

His heart raced as he reached for the .45 caliber in his pocket, which Dio called his cohete. He could hear the rain pounding against the stained-glass windows and the roof. His sweaty hands pulled for it, his heart in his throat. He crossed himself, closed his eyes, and prayed he was about to do the right thing.

Copyright © 2005, 2007 by Jeff Rivera

About the Author

Once homeless and living in his car, first-time novelist, Jeff Rivera writes passionate stories of those often forgotten and neglected by society. He believes even in the eyes of a gang member, even beneath the soiled clothes of a bag lady or behind the tears of a lonely kid in the back of the class, there lies a common thread that links us all, the universal human story. It is said, his personal mission is to help change the way the world thinks in a positive way through his stories.