The Pseudo-Chronicles of Mark Huntley

Awkward Encounter - 10/4/04

Monday, October 4, 2004

So. The men's room at the church, sixty seconds before the processional was supposed to start. Picture Mark Huntley standing frozen in the doorway, staring at the girl in what was supposed to be dude domain. 

She was striking, but not like the movies would have it. She had a cascade of curly black hair, and brown skin that seemed to glisten in the fluorescent lights. My guess was she was multiracial, maybe black and South Asian/Asian, which was pretty accurate, as it turned out. Made no nevermind anyway—she was just gorgeous in that peach-colored bridesmaid dress, which gave good credit to her curves as the girl pulled with all her might on a paper towel dispenser by the sink, swearing and grinding her teeth. 

What in God's name was she doing?

"Uh..." I said aloud. I didn't make it any further than that.

She looked my way. Her eyes were (not striking, dammit) an astonishing hazel. Like she was lit from the inside and I was seeing that light through greenish-brown glass. 

She stopped yanking on the dispenser. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment on her face. "Well?"

"Well...?" I parroted stupidly.

"Well," she said, "are you going to stand there like a ninny or are you going to help me get this thing open?"

"Er.... I'll help," I said.

"Come here, then!" she commanded, and I was drawn like a magnet forward. She would have been truly intimidating if her voice had been deeper. A raggedness gave it edge, though. Briefly I wondered what her singing voice was like.

(Listen—I hope you appreciate all of this honesty here, Reader, and are not smacking yourself about the face and neck right now out of exasperation. This is just to show you that my heart does still, in fact, beat.)

I turned my attention then to the problem of the paper towel dispenser, with the fierce bridesmaid peering over my shoulder. Though we couldn’t reach any towels through the dispenser's opening, I could see a stack of them bunched up near the top of the container, visible through the dark plastic. Why this girl needed paper towels so desperately, I couldn't fathom. But now I’d committed myself.

The dispenser was locked shut. The only obvious way to get the thing open was to smash the plastic cover. But I wasn't keen on the idea of destroying somebody's property, especially not if that somebody was a place of worship. Or... if I had a lever to slide under the cover where it met the bottom of the dispenser, I could pop the cover off, but what...?

I glanced around the bathroom, and then I had an idea. "There's a janitor's closet I passed on the way here," I told the bridesmaid. "Couple doors back down the hall. It was open. See if there's a screwdriver in there, or something else long and thin. And flat."

She nodded and went out, returned some seconds later with a big flathead screwdriver. I worked its head under the cover, then seesawed it hard until the cover snapped up. Unfortunately, it did more than just snap up— it snapped right off and hit the floor. I'd broken it anyway. I cursed the cheap plastic, while the bridesmaid just grabbed a handful of paper towels.

She grinned at me. "Thanks," she said, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and dashed out with her prize.

I just stared after her, then went about my original business as fast as possible and returned to the chapel, sure that Carrie would already be walking down the aisle and that I was the worst co-worker sort-of-friend in the world. 

But for some reason, she hadn’t shown up yet. In fact, people were starting to get antsy for the shindig to be digging.

I took my seat with Joe and Meg and Laurel, Team Divide. Meg shot me a reproachful look. "Hope everything came out all right. Lucky for you, you haven't missed anything."

"They're behind schedule," said Laurel, consulting her watch. "Wonder why?"

Suddenly I knew why, even before the music blared to life five minutes later and Carrie started down the aisle on the arm of her father, her face looking raw. It wasn't hard to figure out. 

Carrie had suffered some last-minute attack of doubt. Probably accompanied by a good cry. She'd turned to one of her good friends, a bridesmaid, for comfort. The bridesmaid had whisked her off to the ladies' room to talk her back to her senses and get her cleaned up, because no one wants to see a streaky wife-to-be. Problem was, the ladies' room was out of paper towels. 

Our faithful bridesmaid friend dives fearlessly into the men's room to look for towels, and misfortune of misfortunes, the dispenser is jammed! Enter a hero: the one man who has the insight, fortitude, and determination to tackle a crisis of this magnitude. And there we are.

I confirmed the truth of this story later with that dedicated bridesmaid, as you'll see. And then you’ll also see how I squandered my heroic deed, and repelled her from me. Otherworldly creep makes a cameo, but what happened next was my own damned fault… 

posted by Mark Huntley @ 9:27 PM

---

Thanks for reading this entry. If you liked it, consider voting for it (click the star icon).