The Wedding II

Roger and I walked up the last few steps to the church doors. They were big heavy affairs that required both hands and a hearty huff to open. What is that all about anyway? Make it as difficult as possible for people to enter the church or to leave it?

I had my hand on Roger's elbow, gently encouraging him into the building. He stopped suddenly and looked over to his left. There, next to me, was a birdbath full of holy water (I'm not trying to be blasphemous I just really don't know what they're called, but they look like bird baths, don't they). The couple that entered in front of us had dipped their fingers in and were now making the sign of the cross on their chests. Roger and I looked at each other, questioning, trying to decide what we could do here. Luckily I heard my name called from down the aisle.

"Sam! Oh Sam. I wasn't sure if you would make it. I know how busy you city girls are!"

Dang it all. It was my aunt Greta. Greta, prefect Greta, with her perfect children, that my mother insists on bringing up in every conversation. But with the choice between letting Roger agonize over the water over suffer through a Greta attack, I'll have to take Greta.

Putting on my biggest smile, I tugged on Roger's arm, pulling him along with me down to where Greta stood. "Hello, Aunt Greta!" I hope she understood me. It's hard to talk with your teeth mashed together trying to hold an insincere smile.

"Hello, dear. I was just telling your cousin Graham that I didn't think you were going to be able to make it. What with your little store and not having a boyfriend to accompany you. Oh, but I see you managed to snag someone at the last minute. How lucky for you!"

It has to be some sort of record. Not even a one minute conversation and I already want to kill.

"Yeah lucky my best friend, Roger here had nothing else going on today. Aunt Greta this is Roger. He works for the congressman." If all else fails, deflect interest onto someone else.

"I think I remember Sam's mom mentioning you, Roger. So nice to meet you." Aunt Greta suddenly was cooing, eyeing Roger up and down, and not letting go of his hand. Full cougar mode. "Didn't you two used to date? Didn't work out though? Not surprised. I know Sam can be a bit…challenging."

My hand was hurting. It was then that I realized I was clenching my fist so hard that my fingernails were digging into my palm.

Roger flashed his best politician smile at Greta. "On the contrary, ma'am, I was the one that was a little much for Sam. She's keeps me down here on earth. Don't know what I'd do without her."

Aunt Greta's smile wavered a bit, but she stayed strong. "Isn't that just lovely? And you're still friends? That takes a special kind of man I think."

"That and a special kind of woman that makes a man want to stay friends."

"Stop, I'm overly flattered and will take full advantage." I had to end this conversation before I killed my aunt and slapped Roger. "Let's find someplace to sit down." I looked up at Roger, begging him to agree.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Greta. We will see you at the reception." I tugged on Roger's elbow as hard as I could without being conspicuous, while he insisted on being all pleasant to the horrible woman.

I located an open pew that was happily situated near the back of the crowd. I waved to my mother and her new boyfriend and smiled at my sister. It was a genuine smile. I would talk to them at the reception. My sister knew that I strongly dislike these kinds of forced family merriment extravaganzas and will join me in mocking others later. Only the few that deserve it, mind you. Most of my family are pleasant, delightfully flawed people. No more, no less than anyone else. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about my family or me for that matter. I don't take pleasure in making fun of the few members of my family that make me want to gnaw an arm off when I realize I'm related to them. It is simply a way of venting so all my limbs stay attached where they belong.

Roger looked around the church thoughtfully. Neither one of us are churchgoers and when we do step foot it one it is usually a simpler affair. Not so much stained glass, statues of saints, and ornately carved wooden pews.

"Makes me rethink my line of work," Roger whispered as he leaned his head near mine, still gawking. I looked at him.

"Sometimes the silliest things come out of your mouth."

The music cued up and everyone craned their necks to see who was walking down the aisle. The usual parade of mothers, women in their early twenties, and of course the little ring bearer running down the aisle and the flower girl dumping her basket of petals at one spot and then going to sit down with her mom. Why do brides insist on torturing children this way? Yes, I get it. It's sweet and all the adults laugh at the child's expense, but it puts an awful lot of pressure on such small people and then they'll have to hear about it for the rest of their lives too. I wouldn't want to have to hear about how I embarrassed myself at cousin Nathaniel's wedding and everyone laughed please I was so cute (pinch cheeks).

Roger and I smiled along with the rest of the crowd. The wedding march started and Rachel, my cousin's future wife, started walking down the rolled out carpet on her father's arm. My cousin was sweating at the other end, looking nervous yet beaming at the same time.

The ceremony was long and I'm not ashamed to admit that I barely listened to it. We had to get up and sing a few times, get on our knees a few more. Luckily I'm short enough and was in the back so no one really noticed my not participating. Roger was cute trying to sing along with the book open in his hands, stumbling through the more complicated hymns. And then it was done. Roger and I clapped and cheered the newly minted couple back down the aisle then waited for our turn to file out.

The receiving line at the church has to be one of the more socially awkward traditions of our culture. I understand it is a way for everyone to get their chance to congratulate the couple and their parents on a successful show, but when you don't actually know the other family that well it just plain stinks.

Roger, as always, puts me to shame in these situations. He's cheerfully shaking hands, patting the men on their backs, offering genuine congratulations all the while smiling with sincerity. Always campaigning. I gave my cousin and Rachel a hug and told them I loved them, followed by Roger shaking Nathaniel's hand to the point of over kill. A girl, probably a friend of Rachel's, handed us a small bottle of bubbles tied with ribbon, whispering how rice kills birds so they are being kinder by having bubbles instead. I smiled politely, like I'd never heard that before and went back out the large doors, which were thankfully propped open by now, to wait with everyone else.

Roger and I stood amidst the crowd next to a rowdy bunch from Nathaniel's days at school. They were whooping and hollering and being a whole lot of obnoxious, but having so much fun that I couldn't help but smile along with them. I was jostled around a bit and there was a moment when all I saw was a bunch of backs and elbow, but finally the group surged ahead and I realized that the couple must be leaving the church. I quickly opened by bottle of bubbles while trying to remain upright through the rush to get to the bride and groom, while Roger got pulled along with the college friends. They had already given up blowing bubbles and had simply decided to dump the contents on the groom primarily. Some common sense was there apparently because they were trying to avoid dumping on the bride and thereby evoking the wrath that is a bride on her wedding day.

I was watching and laughing along with everyone else, caught up in the moment when Roger got in the way. He was whooping one moment and the next his eyes were bugging out of his head. A whole bottle had gotten dumped on him by someone. I froze. Surely this was one of the exceptions. It was bubbles for crying out loud. I know it's primarily water, but other water based products don't cause him to transition. Maybe it's one of those situations. Please let it be one of those situations.

Roger bolted. He went for the church doors, knocking down a few of the guys as he went. I pushed and elbowed my way back to the top of the stairs. Pausing to look back, I saw the bride and groom get into a town car. Most of the family was still watching them with only a few looking back at the doors that Roger disappeared through. Greta was staring at me, her eyebrows raised. I turned my back on her and walked into the main part of the church looking around for Roger.

He was under the choir box taking deep breaths. "Roger?" I heard the tap tap of high heeled shoes behind me. I turned.

Greta was walking over to Roger's hiding place.

The Wedding

It was a lovely spring day. The morning air still had a bit of crisp to it, but nothing a light shawl couldn't keep at bay. Pigeons were cooing merrily while pecking at the offerings left by night's revelers. The sun was behind the church, shining through the stained glass windows. Ribbon, bows, and flowers were strewn over anything holding still. It was the kind of day that could make one want to slice her wrists.

I love my cousin Nathaniel. I really do. And I like the girl he is marrying. She's smart and beautiful and driven. I just don't know how to talk to them. They're both conservative business people who are getting married in a catholic church. I'm pretty sure they think I've suffered brain damage and am incapable of regular conversation. Then there's the rest of my family to worry about. While we would win no original awards in a dysfunctional contest there was just enough to make me dread the coming event. I needed my armor, I needed protection, I needed Leviathan.

Though I hate to admit it, I was relieved when Braylon had to cancel as my date. He had yet to meet my family and I had been sweating it. Literally. Three nights in a row I woke up in a cold sweat. My bed sheets damp from the nightmares. I would roll over to the other side of the bed, grateful that I was sleeping alone. I would be unable to remember anything about the dreams except they involved my family, things falling over, general chaos, and catching a bunch of flowers. Hence the sweating.

It took some convincing to get Roger to agree to accompany me. While we had served as each other's dates previously, it had never overflowed into our families. It was accepted amongst our colleagues that we were friends only. I'm sure there are some that assume we're sleeping together, but the jokes and innuendos had died off a couple years ago (except for Roger's fellow speech writer, Barry who doesn't know how to stop talking. He makes jokes that range from annoying to incredibly inappropriate in a formal setting. The filter between thought and mouth is totally broken. In short: he's a jackass).

Braylon cancelled after the star student at his martial arts school won a district competition and was advancing to state. The state competition happened to be the same day as the wedding. Braylon was apologetic and thought that I would like to take the opportunity to get out of going to the wedding. He was surprised that I wanted to go still, but this was my cousin. Despite not connecting with him since we've grown into adults, when we were children, we were great friends. Braylon actually accused me of not being supportive of his business by not wanting to go with him. I attempted to assure him that me wanting to be there with my family is not being unsupportive of him, but we both walked away from it upset. I don't understand his thinking on this matter and I guess he doesn't understand mine either.

When I asked Roger if he would go with me, he first asked about my family's reaction. Would they understand that we were just friends or would he have to endure questions and jokes the whole night? I told him that would most likely be the case, but he could handle it. My family is impressed by intelligence and being successful. They would probably like him, the fast rising politician, over me, the lowly bookstore owner. He paused to think for a moment and then seemed to suddenly remember that I have a boyfriend. When I told him the story of Braylon cancelling and our subsequent argument, he didn't say anything, but his mouth became a thin line of disapproval. I didn't tell him that I actually preferred him going with me rather than Braylon. It could have given him the wrong idea or a big head.

Why did I want Roger instead of Braylon? How to explain the sense of comfort Roger gives to me in awkward situations? While I'm quiet and usually need a few drinks before I'm relaxed enough to socialize with people I'm not close with, Roger is at ease around almost everyone (the only exceptions are people that he has admired from afar and then finally meets. It's actually quite sweet to see my friend who is usually so collected and cool act nervous and geek out from meeting a guy that most people don't even know exist). Roger cracks tasteful jokes, tells engaging stories that draw people in, and can be the life of a party without being obnoxious. All that plus there's no sexual pressure. Perfect wedding date.

So here we are. Walking up to the church to watch my cousin marry his girlfriend of nearly ten years, I felt Roger stiffen under my arm. I thought I was nervous until I looked up into his face. Roger looked petrified.

"You never said it was a Catholic church."

Was Roger prejudice against Catholics? The thought never occurred to me. "Yes. Michelle was raised Catholic. Is this a problem?"

"Aren't there large amounts of water throughout a Catholic church?"

Oh. "Well, I think so. This is my first time in one too. I think you're going to be okay. You're not getting baptized."

"But what about when we go in? Aren't we supposed to dip our fingers in or something?"

"I don't think they expect the non-Catholics to do the cross. If anyone says anything, just tell them you're Jewish. If all else fails: pretend. We should be all right."

Taking a deep breath, Roger and I climbed the steps into the church.