The Words

Do you? Why are you still here?

Do you? You may kiss the bride. Why are you still? This is my recollection of our wedding - from the beginning of the ceremony until being unceremoniously shoved out the door from our reception and herded toward my car. It was as though they couldn't wait to be done with us.

My best friend, the older of the two brothers who'd been my friends since my junior year of high school, was my best man and had joked; I'd probably only picked him because he could outrun me if I decided to bolt. His younger brother dropped him off at my apartment in the morning to drive my car, and me, to the wedding. At my mother's request, who'd commented the night before that she didn't think I would be in any state to drive and was likely correct. I was a ragged jangle of nerves and adrenaline.

I wore a suit and tie, another of my mother's requests. She couldn't persuade my fiancée and me to get married in the church, but she had convinced us that the idea of a casual wedding was a bad idea. We would want to remember the day as something special - not people in jeans at a picnic. That notion was short-lived. I'd thought my fiancée had seemed open to the idea, but if so, it wasn't difficult to sway her back toward formality. She'd always wanted the pomp and circumstance. She had a white wedding dress that she was entitled to wear.

We'd ended up inviting a surprising number of people. The number multiplied with every name added to the invitation list, then immediately recognized someone else who would now be offended if excluded. Most were my family and friends. There were only a handful of my fiancée's distant relatives, uncles, and cousins she'd rarely seen and, in one case, never actually met, to who she'd sent invitations in the hopes that she might have someone of her own in attendance. I was sad that having a wedding was so important to her and so few guests for her to invite. We'd decided to dispense with the idea of his and her sides of the aisle. The thought of one side being empty was sad.

My fiancée was happy that my mother would be coming, my brothers and sister, and that my mother and I were on much better terms. They'd been getting to know one another a little lately. I told her my stepfather would be there too, even though we hadn't spoken since our confrontation. My mother, who seemed to be back ruling her roost, told me she'd insisted on his attendance.

My father and his wife showed up as well, despite them not receiving an invitation, probably a result of me asking my younger brother to be part of the wedding party. I didn't have an issue with my father being present. It was his wife that I'd specifically wanted to exclude. My father shook my hand and handed me an envelope stuffed with cash. We hadn't spoken in several years, and it was awkward, the more so with his wife and her phony smile hovering alongside him, acting as if we were the best of friends and there'd never been the slightest bit of tension between us.

Shortly before the ceremony, my fiancée sent a message via her ex-roommate, now maid-of-honor. The couple she'd lived with during high school had come, without invitation, just as my father had. Did I have any issue with the husband walking her down the aisle?

We'd been having a difficult time trying to determine who she could ask to fill that role. She'd asked the dean of her college, but he had previous commitments and couldn't attend the service at all, which was quite a disappointment to my fiancée. We talked about dispensing with the tradition altogether, but that was another tradition she wanted to keep as part of our wedding ceremony. Having no one to escort her down the aisle seemed almost as sad as empty seats on her side of the aisle. She'd even asked my thoughts about my stepfather, then immediately withdrawn that suggestion following the blow-up between us. As of that morning, we still had no one. So, this unexpected arrival was good news.

No. Of course, I had no objection.

Then time began to leap ahead. Next, I knew I was standing with my best man, my brother, and the minister of our church in front of people sitting on folding chairs in the middle of a field, with the sound of soft music playing in the background. My mother somehow managed to have her way with our minister, too, except that my fiancée had demanded that he was not to give any sermons or lead us in any prayers. He'd reluctantly agreed. He could pray silently, and that should be blessing enough.

My fiancée's old high school friend appeared from behind the seats in the rear - the one my fiancée claimed was why we'd met. She was followed shortly by my fiancée's ex-roommate - who'd once tied a ribbon to the doorknob of their dorm room, so she could have sex with random guys that she'd just met, leaving my fiancée to figure out where else she could spend the night. Then the volume increased dramatically as the music my fiancée had chosen for her processional began to play, and she began to walk toward me on the arm of a man I'd never met.

Time took another leap, and there she stood beside me, both of us smiling nervously. We'd discussed whether I would be upset if she wore heels since she would have appeared considerably taller than me, but this became moot when she realized that she couldn't wear heels and walk across the grass and soft ground of the meadow without breaking an ankle. So, we were nearly eye to eye, and she was more stunning than ever.

Wow!

Then time raced. I heard the minister's words. I heard questions. I heard her reply. I said, "I do." Then I could kiss the bride. Before that moment, I felt that I was just there, floating above it all. But, at the meeting of our lips, I felt a warmth fill me, and time ceased as if we were alone in the world. Then I heard someone yell for us to get a room.

I don't think it felt entirely real for either of us, but we were married. My fiancée was now my wife. Then time leaped again, and we'd barely had time to talk to any of the guests at our wedding reception before they were rushing us out the door.

It was as if we were kicked out of our own party, which both of us were nervous about leaving now that we faced no more rules or restrictions and no reason to continue deluding ourselves that we weren't having sex. Even after months of struggling not to give in to our urges, feeling that it couldn't possibly be soon enough, now that it would be soon enough, I, at least, was already feeling anxious, afraid, and guilty about something we hadn't yet done. Supposedly now, with my mother's blessing.

Then, catching the evil twinkle in my sister's eye and seeing her nasty grin, I could practically hear the silent, mocking chant resonate through her skull as we were herded past her and out the door.

I know what you two

Are going to do, do