Behold, All Things Are Become New

Sneak Peek

The groomsmen smirked when I whistled “Get Me to the Church on Time” off tune. Raising my volume steadied my hands as I wrestled a strip of cloth into a bow tie.

“Tyler, it’s morning—you’re already at the church.”

“Aargh.” I yanked the tie, cracked my knuckles, and dove into the task again. All the while, the Florida sun seemed to penetrate the walls despite the air conditioning.

“Don’t choke yourself, man.” My friend chuckled and adjusted his cummerbund.

Another friend snapped his suspenders. “The duffel bag boy gets married.”

Six years ago, I hitched my way here from a small Illinois rivertown. Lots had changed. Pressing a hand against the wall shored me up, enough to face the mirror again, until the door to the Sunday school room-turned-dressing area burst open.

“Tyler!”

My best man, Bryce, filled the doorway, his face swelling like a puffer fish. The calm he normally showed on an EMT call, delivering a crowning baby on a sidewalk—gone.

My whistling stopped.

“Someone here says he’s your dad.” He glanced left. “Wants to talk to you.”

I cocked my head. “Speak English, bro. What are you talking about?”

His slow blink and lips pressed together seemed to wait for me to catch up. When I did, life rewound all the way back to cigarette burns and bruises. I tore at the uncooperative tie and crumpled it.

“He wasn’t a dad. Just a wannabe boxer in need of a punching bag.”

Bryce knew my history. His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth curved upward as he waited for what I intended to do. I jammed the tie into my pocket and stewed. 

“Drunk, isn’t he?” But how’d he make the trip from central Illinois?

“Seems calm and collected.”

“Blast it!” 

The groomsmen traded furtive looks. If he was in fact drunk, Bryce and the guys could cart him off, but I couldn’t allow a showstopper in front of Julie or her family.

Trickles of sweat worked their way into the cracked terrain of old scars dotting my back. Reaching over my shoulder, I scratched as far as I could.

Agreeing meant opening the door for him to worm his way back into my life. We hadn’t parted well. My stomach tightened—five minutes until marching time. “Stink!” I hoped my father got the picture that I didn’t appreciate his ill-timed intrusion.

“And?” Bryce asked.

“No!”

He stepped inside. “Buddy …” His voice dropped as he laid a hand on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to shake it off. “… I can only imagine what you’re feeling. But might you reconsider?”

“Eight years ago, he dumped me on a county road.”

Bryce’s smile pinched before he continued, picking up where he left off as if I hadn’t even said anything. “Not for him. To free yourself—so it’s not hanging over you on your big day?”

“I found freedom when I thumbed my way here after graduation. He’s not taking it back—especially today.” I shook despite myself.

He withdrew his hand. “It’s up to you, buddy.”

“Yes, it is!”

I popped my jaw and ran a hand through freshly cut hair.

“Sure?”

I leaned in. “Whose side are you on, best man?”

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