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Sugar Rush

Sugar Rush

Description : Sugar Rush

I weep openly. A high-pitched whimper leaves my mouth that is so high I think I hear a dog howl somewhere in the distance. I alternate whimpering and bawling, snorting every now and again. Tears drench my cheeks. Boogers almost run into my mouth. I’m a hot mess.

When the celebrant smiles happily and utters, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” my sister, Natalie, throws her bouquet behind her. Without flinching, Mimi snatches up the flowers mid-air before winking to the crowd. Nat stands on her tiptoes and kisses her husband, Asher, through a smile. He gently hooks a hand around the back of her neck and holds her close, deepening the kiss and refusing to let her end it. They smile lip-to-lip.

It’s beautiful. And so I howl. I look across to the middle-aged man sitting next to me. He watches me with a mixture of concern and fear, backing up just a little. I try to speak through my hitching breaths and sobbing, “Izz juzz so beautafoo.” Hitch. “So beautafoo.”

I break down again, louder this time. Sinking down into my chair in the most unladylike way, I let out a long, keening cry. I hear someone say an annoyed, “Will someone please get her out of here?”

Wet mascara makes my eyelashes stick together. When I realize the annoyed person is my sister, I lift my face heavenward and cry harder. Nat glares at me and hisses only loud enough for me to hear, “Seriously, shut the eff up and stop with the crying. You’re bringing everyone down, skank!”

I weakly reach a hand out to her, body shaking with silent sobs and try to speak. “I lubb ewe. Ewe look beautafoo. So beautafoo.” I sit up and wail, “I’m juzz happy. So happy.”

My sister. She speaks my language. So when I see her eyes...