Missing Dixie

“You first, Maid of Honor,” Robyn tells me with a tense smile.

The wedding isn’t huge but it’s in a huge place. A property Robyn has dreamed of getting married on since we were kids. Photographers are everywhere and OK! magazine is here doing an exposé on Dallas Walker and the love of a lifetime who led him to walk away from the fame.

Part of me wondered how my brother would be when he got home. I was expecting him to be forlorn or sullen or something. He had everything he’d ever dreamed of as far as music was concerned—well, everything except his band. But Dallas Walker the solo act decided he’d rather come home and marry his pregnant girlfriend instead of continuing on tour. The press is having a field day—proclaiming Dallas and Robyn’s relationship the stuff fairy tales are made of. Dallas says give it a week and the tabloids will be screaming that they’re done forever and Robyn is pregnant and alone.

Life sure is funny sometimes.

I can’t help it, I check my phone to see if there is anything from Gavin. I’ve been doing this for far too long and like always, there isn’t a peep.

A few of the moms of the kids I give music lessons to have messaged me back saying they don’t know the little boy I’ve been asking about and don’t recognize him from my description.

Liam is his name and every week on Tuesdays and Thursdays he arrives like clockwork at five on the dot. He doesn’t seem to enjoy learning to play piano or violin but he keeps coming, so I keep trying. I just wish I could talk to his mom or dad about his behavior and how to reach him. So far all he’s said out loud to me is his name.

“You. Come. Now,” the wedding coordinator from Heritage House hollers at me. I began a slow march down the aisle with a fake version of my bouquet. The spray on the fake flowers makes me sneeze and the woman looks at me like I’m intentionally pissing her off.

“Sorry,” I tell her as I continue my stroll to the altar. Once I’m down I see Robyn’s friend Katie and our mutual friend Cassidy coming down as well. They’re escorted by two of Dallas’s friends. I was supposed to walk with Gavin, but as per usual, he is missing and I am alone.

Once we’re in place the music begins to play. Dallas has taken his place beside the blank space where Gavin is supposed to be and I give him an encouraging grin. I’m proud of him, happy for him, and all-around ecstatic about his upcoming nuptials, but Gavin’s absence is weighing on me heavily.

Maybe he really did have to work, but it felt to me like Dallas wasn’t buying it and I’m not, either.

When Robyn’s mom begins coming down the aisle, we all giggle a little as Mrs. Lawson takes her arm looking proud as a peacock. Apparently it’s bad luck for the actual bride and groom to rehearse before the wedding, so Mrs. Lawson volunteered to stand in—bless her.

Once they arrive, the pastor reads his part of the vows, has Dallas and Mrs. Lawson repeat after him, and then pronounces them man and wife. We all make our exit to a small smattering of applause from the members of Robyn’s family that are in attendance.

I glance around to see if Gavin made it but see no sign of him. It’s a mutual gut punch of welcome relief and disappointed concern that he’s not here. Seeing him earlier in the rehearsal space was like watching the color coming back into my life. All while feeling like someone was ringing out my intestines like dishrags.

“He better not bail tomorrow, Dallas. I told you about him. You know how he—” Robyn’s sentence cuts off abruptly when I whirl around. There’s no need to ask who she’s referring to. Our perpetually troubled drummer friend who specializes in disappearing and reappearing at will.

“Missed you at rehearsal dinner,” I text to his number. “Hope everything is okay.”

We do two more walk-throughs, me with my invisible Gavin, before heading into a formal dining room for dinner.

I check my phone several times, finding exactly what I expect to time and time again.

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