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At the wedding you sit
in the back. Uninvited. Lots of people. No one will notice.
The music starts and everyone turns and you keep behind the guy in the tight
fitting suit, peeking over his shoulder a second at a time until she passes.
You feel dizzy. The music, the organ, the white, white dress. The veil.
And the father, whoa, the father.
She was smiling. Almost real. Like when she used to see you. Bright, bright
smile. Warmed you like microwaves from the inside out.
White and pink rose petals dot the red, red carpet on which she glides. To
him. Rebound guy. You met him once. In an alley. Okay, you stalked him. Easy
to push. Didn’t scare for long. Wedding six months later.
You see everyone smiling, at her beauty or at their remembrances. Flash
popping. Bridesmaids chafing in their flouncy pink taffeta.
Mother-of-the-Bride weeping. You feel no smile on your face.
Father—angry, foul-mouthed, over-protective father—takes her to the alter.
“Who gives this bride?” “Her mother and I.” Sure, after he stole her from
you. Called you a “fucking druggie asshole.” You think he kicked your leg
but you were wasted.
“For richer and poorer, in sickness and in health.” You went to rehab. Got
healthy, which is what you tell people. Could get rich if things work out,
you know, just right. Too late to win the father. He made threats.
Believable ones.
“Till death do you part.” You can arrange that. Different methods occur to
you. Grieving widows need comfort. Throw in the dad for grins.
“Does anyone present see any reason why this man and this woman should not
be joined in holy matrimony?” Well, yeah. How do you do this? Just raise
your hand? Like in school? Or shout out? The silence is interminable. Like
they’re waiting for you.
You’re sweating. Shaking. You feel a pulling. Time is paused and the pressure is crushing. You think you can do this one thing for her
but your internal calendar resets to your needing days. You try to raise you
hand, your voice, but they are chained to you and you’re sinking.
You stand. Everyone looks. You lower your head, turn, slip out the side
exit.
You feel for the little bag in your pocket, and slink to a place where you
know you will not be disturbed.
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