Flash Fiction – Avoiding the Bouquet

Lately, it seems I’ve been writing a lot about weddings.  So much can happen when we throw together family and friends. People come with all kinds of expectations and experiences. The book I just finished begins at a wedding, and this short, short story takes place at a wedding reception during the bouquet toss. As a child, I loved trying to catch the bouquet, and as a bride, I couldn’t wait to see who would catch my bouquet. Because I was one of the first of my friends to get married, there was quite a crowd when it came time.  And I can happily report that my friend who caught my bouquet is happily married and so is the guy who caught the garter, although not to each other. (Too bad because that would have made a fun story.) They were so sweet to let me share this picture with you.  Thanks Ronna and Rob.

While my girlhood views were filled with romance, I realize from talking to unmarried friends that this isn’t always the case. This is the perspective I took with this story. I hope you enjoy it.

What is your favorite part of weddings? Do you have any funny stories from weddings? Please share. I’m always looking for inspiration.

******************************************************************************************

The bouquet of white hydrangeas launched from the bride’s hands and soared into the air, ricocheting off the chandelier. As it plummeted toward Anna, she recoiled, shuddering. Two younger women in skimpy dresses dove in front of her with apparent disregard for maintaining any mystery about their lack of undergarments.

Anna pivoted, abandoning the inevitable tug-of-war, grabbed a glass of champagne and tossed back the bubbles. As she threaded the crowd, she spied another flute of cheer on a service table. She snatched it up and shoved the door open, stumbling into the hall. How many glasses had she consumed? Apparently not enough.

A quiet summer night beckoned her from the other side of the French doors. Her heart pounded to the rhythm of the band’s cover of Brick House. Did every wedding band include that song in its set list? She leaned against the door frame, gazing through the window. The soles of her feet ached. Moonbeams danced across the lawn, leading to the brooding ocean. The music grew louder. She glanced over her shoulder.

A couple danced out of the ballroom, gazing into one another’s eyes. At this point in the night, no one would notice if she disappeared for a while.

Anna dropped her hand onto the door handle and slid it open. She slipped through the narrow space, pulling the door closed behind her. She closed her eyes as she rolled her shoulders, releasing the tension. A warm breeze blew against her face, and she inhaled deeply. The salty air brought a peace she could only find by the sea. She lifted the glass to her lips.

“Hi there.” A deep voice said behind her. “Must be my lucky night.”

Anna’s heart skittered as her throat tightened. She coughed, spewing the champagne.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her throat burned, and she rubbed her neck as she turned to face the man.

He reclined against the stuccoed wall with one foot crossed over the other and a hand in his pants’ pocket. His bow tie hung loosely around his neck. With the trimmed beard that accentuated his strong jawline and a coy smile, he could have been posing for a men’s clothing ad.

Anna swallowed.

He pushed off the wall and extended his hand as he stepped out of the shadows. “I’m Baker.” He couldn’t be more than thirty. Way too young for her, but . . .

Anna felt the corners of her lips lift. Perhaps, Click here to read the rest of the story.