The Eyes of September

Part One: Caged

Mirrin - the student

          Three weeks ago her roommate had floated into their apartment, as gossamer and transparent as the mood in which she performed, and presented Mirrin with a hand upon which a diamond - glorious, sparkling, set around with sapphires - rested. To say that the announcement was unexpected would be to understate the scene entirely; Mirrin was left speechless, floundering between happiness and confusion.

But Eloise would not wait for her congratulations. She began talking, musing in a dreamy, love-induced trance, about dates and weddings and courthouses and witnesses. And then had acknowledge, out of the blue, that there would be no grand celebration.

"We're having a preacher come to his apartment," she said, "because he has a bigger living room. And we're going to be wed under the double windows."

Why not wait, Mirrin had asked, been met with a scoff. Love, she was told, waited for no one. Her roommate had found a gown and flowers in short order. The date had been set at September thirtieth.After a calendar countdown, arranging a minister and witnesses, getting official papers drawn up and blood tested, significant friends invited, the time had come.

Rather than a dreaded bridesmaid dress, Mirrin had been allowed to go shopping, alone. She had taken Friday off from work and dragged Esau vintage shopping; after one hour of debate, she settled on an out-of-season sundress beset with blooming red flowers and a handkerchief hem. Standing on her tiptoes, heels sinking into the carpet, she was presently clutching a bouquet of wilted lilacs and watching Eloise cry.

Zeph's apartment was no bigger than theirs. It was the size of a shoebox and half as clean, but it possessed a pair of beautiful double windows that overlooked the Delaware River Waterfront. The water was blue and lovely against the melting backdrop of a sunset. Rays of light split the dingy carpeted floor into slices of shimmering gold. Christmas lights had been tacked up around the molding, and the furniture - a coffee table, two sofas, a double bookshelf full of medical tomes - had been pushed back against the walls. Folding chairs had been set up, tulle ribboning the rows together. Lilacs, daisies, and roses sat in glass vases that lined the makeshift aisle.

Three groomsmen and two bridesmaids - Mirrin included - made up the wedding party. Esau was among the audience, since he had come as her date, and a ragtag group of performers, teachers, and friends. From the front row Eloise's mother, who appeared to be an older rendition of her daughter, was sobbing into a tissue box.

"Dearly beloved," the officiator was intoning.

A speech followed, then reading of scripture, then an exchange of vows, through which Mirrin - usually unsentimental - felt tears gather in her eyes. She wasn't losing Eloise, she knew. Nothing as dramatic as that. The couple would live here, about ten blocks from her Old City apartment, well within walking or biking distance.

Yet she also knew that it would not be the same. Despite best wishes and promises of continued friendship marriage changed people, yoked them together and transformed them into irrevocably different people, better people, but nonetheless people standing on a different rung than people like Mirrin.

As the ceremony ended, her roommate turned and embraced her. "Thank you for coming," she said, voice thick. Her curls were stiff with hairspray and her gown was cold silk against skin.

"Of course." Mirrin pulled back, gripped her bouquet of flowers a little tighter. Tried not to remind herself that Eloise looked so happy, the kind of happy that would tear her apart, and that as much as Esau purposed to love her he was far too young to marry. "Congratulations."

Arms curved around her waist from behind; she jumped, nudged her boyfriend back. "I thought you were -"

"Congratulations," he said to her roommate over her head. "Um...good luck."