Dedicated

I had always been the kind of person that didn't make friends easily. Truth be told, it was more of an insecurity thing than anything else. I wasn't a jerk, well, not usually, and I was always trying to be as nice as I could be, but it was always tough for me to walk up to a person and strike up a conversation.

That being said however, the friends I had would be my friends for life, and loyalty was something I prided myself on. So when I had heard that two close friends of mine were going to be getting married in the Delta Bessbourough's Battleford ballroom, I was going to do everything it took to be there.

It was going to be a long trip, and when all was said and done, I might not even be able to go back. After all, I would be breaking some pretty strict rules to attend this wedding, and even then I could only stay for a very short time. But I never really thought about that.

The price of my dedication, I suppose.

The bride especially was a good friend, and had seen me through some tough times in life, so I figured the least I could do was let her know I was there.

It took some doing, but somehow I managed to make it there in time for the big day. I had missed the ceremony, which I wasn't too pleased about, but at least I was able to attend the reception. The dance was in full swing, people laughing and having a good time. I wasn't much of a dancer anymore so I had made my way out to the foyer where the bar was situated, mingling amongst the guests that weren't currently on the dance floor. The bartender had ignored me, so I was the only one without a drink in my hand, but that was alright. Alcohol had lost a lot of appeal to me.

I'd pass by and someone would shiver, and every time I grinned a little. That never got old. I was looking for familiar faces though, and it wasn't until my ears started burning that I found some of my old friends I'd left behind.

"It still doesn't seem real to me you know," the man said, taking a long sip of his drink. "And then having us all together again for the first time in I don't know how long."

"Well," the girl said sadly, "We're not all here."

The man hung his head, suddenly aware, that no, not everyone was here, at least, not in the traditional sense. "No, I guess not. It's been almost two years huh?"

"More than that," the girl corrected, and took a sip of her martini, made sour by the taste of the conversation. "Two and a half since the accident."

I smiled sadly at their words, then turned to go into the ballroom. I had to leave soon, but there was something I wanted to do before that. I walked towards the DJ, and probably gave the poor kid a heart attack, coming out of no where like that.

"I'd like to request a song," I said to him, making sure to keep my voice low. If anyone recognized me things would get very weird very quickly. "Dedicated to the newlyweds. A Kiss From A Rose, by SEAL," and then I gave him my name.

He nodded as he wrote that down, and I almost laughed from the look of shock on his face as he looked up and saw no one standing there. He got on his little microphone and as everyone filed back into the ballroom, drinks and dates in hand, the poor bastard announced the song, and who it was for.

And then he announced who it was from.

The silence was louder than any song he could have played, and he froze when he saw no one moving, and the strange looks people were giving one another. Poor guy thought he had done something terribly wrong. So he just played the song and decided to say nothing on the matter. Probably for the best. The shock wore off of most, except my friends, who had gathered together and were chatting nervously to one another.

I took one last look at the blushing bride as things began to get hazy, and I headed towards the foyer. This was the most I was able to do. Talking to that DJ had taken everything out of me, and I was going to be in a lot of trouble when I got back.

After all, the dead aren't supposed to be here, and they certainly aren't supposed to request songs at friend's weddings.

The price of my dedication, I suppose.