Bellamy's Redemption

Chapter 1

Everyone watched the night Bellamy Timberfrost got his heart broken on national television. My friends and I did, anyhow. The five of us were at Betsy’s house, drinking wine and munching on extra spicy pretzel mix. It was an evening we had all been anticipating for months, having endured the rollercoaster ride of love that Alanna Rutherford had taken us upon. From her quaint cottage home in Quebec where we started the journey with her, through Mayan ruins and Moroccan markets, we had watched the raven-haired beauty painfully narrow down suitor after suitor. We cried along with her when it was discovered that Charles, the frontrunner, had a girlfriend and child at home. We booed him off the television and uncorked another bottle. That was the night that Bellamy was promoted to our favorite.

Standing there in the moonlight on a beach in Portugal, smoothing back Alanna’s hair and kissing her tear-stained cheeks, Bellamy cemented his place in our hearts, as well as hers. Or so we thought. So the evening of the proposal, a month and countless romantic dates later, as Bellamy stood in his tuxedo on the steps of the Taj Mahal, shaking, a cushion cut yellow diamond engagement ring bulging suggestively in his pocket, we were all so sure of what was about to transpire that some people (Judijean, for example) were not even paying proper attention.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Betsy, shushing Judijean who was trying to show Lauren a new crochet stitch. “Something is wrong.”

“How do you mean?” asked Rachel.

“Isn’t it obvious? They’re showing Bellamy first. Why are they showing Bellamy first?”

It was true. This was not the way it was supposed to go. The munching and chatter halted as we all leaned in, staring at Betsy’s tiny, ancient television.

“Is that a tear in Alanna’s eye?” Rachel whispered.

“I can’t tell,” said Lauren, shooting Judijean a quick, angry glare. We were supposed to be watching the finale at Judijean’s house, on her seventy-three inch high definition flat screen television, but at the last minute her fiancé Bud (Butt) had decided a poker party and vintage Beevis and Butthead-a-thon trumped our Ladies’ Night plans.

“It’s a tear,” Betsy confirmed.

Bellamy was smiling. He was getting down on one knee.

“Don’t do it, Bellamy,” Lauren whispered.

Judijean pursed her lips and flared her nostrils at the television.

“Easy, Horsey,” said Lauren, patting Judijean’s head.

“Alanna Roxanne Rutherford,” said Bellamy, “from the moment I stepped out of the limo and saw you, I knew my life would never be the same.” He wiped his hands on his pant legs and reached into his pocket.

“How is he not noticing that Alanna looks like she’s about to barf?” asked Rachel.

“He’s too in love,” I said solemnly.

He opened the box and the camera zoomed in, freezing on the sparkling ring, and for a moment everything stopped as the Diamonds by Deluxe jingle played its familiar tune: Show her, show her, you love her, love her, in a special way that shines, shines, shines like the stars above… Diamonds by Deluxe!

“I want a Deluxe Diamond someday,” said Lauren.

We all ignored her. There was no way her boyfriend Nick could ever afford a Deluxe Diamond with his salary as a pizza delivery guy.

The camera panned back to Bellamy. His eyes were full of sweetness and hope. I couldn’t control myself; I started to bawl.

“Emma, it’s okay,” said Rachel. She sat down beside me and squeezed my shoulder. I wiped at my eyes and squinted at the television screen, in time to hear Bellamy ask, “Will… you… marry… me?”

Alanna Rutherford shook her head and wiped two perfect tears from her wide, hazel eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy, but I love… Antonio.”

And suddenly there was Antonio, riding up on a camel. Judijean clapped and squealed in delight.

“I always liked Antonio better than Bellamy,” Lauren admitted.

“You’re crazy,” said Betsy.

“Bellamy is perfect,” I whispered.

Antonio climbed down from the camel and handed the reins to Bellamy. Some belly dancers helped him up onto the camel and he clomped away.

“I don’t think those belly dancers are authentic,” said Betsy.

“Please, it’s just a show,” said Judijean.

“A reality show,” said Betsy.

“Alanna,” Antonio was saying, “from the moment I first stepped out of the limo, I knew my life would never be the same…” The camera focused again on Bellamy, growing smaller and smaller as his camel retreated into the sunset.

“I have to go,” I said, standing up and brushing crumbs off my skirt. I was still in my work clothes, and the long day was catching up with me. I picked up the scarf I’d been knitting and stuffed it in my tote bag.

“Emma, aren’t you going to watch him propose?” asked Lauren.

“No, I really can’t bear to see it,” I said. I carried my wineglass into Betsy’s kitchen and set it beside her sink. She and Rachel followed after me. They are my two oldest friends; the three of us met in Green Frogs Preschool and we have been together ever since. Judijean and Lauren didn’t come along until high school. They were already best friends with each other when we met them. They bicker and fight like an old married couple. As united as we five are to the outside world, there is often a subtle divide in our group, with unshakeable loyalties between us three and those two.

“I cannot believe you’re missing this,” Lauren shouted.

“Go watch it,” I said to Betsy and Rachel. “You don’t have to hang out in here with me.”