15 For 15 Entries ~ June 2010

Booby ~ June 7

You stand there at the front of the alter, perspiring in your black tuxedo. The powder blue bow tie feels like a noose around your neck. How the hell did I get here, you wonder. You take a deep breath to calm what you’re hoping are just the wedding day jitters, what you pray aren’t genuine feelings of regret. The tropical flowers Janice ordered fill your senses. Their scent’s so strong it stinks as bad as rotten fruit. You let your jaw slacken, try to block air from entering your nose and take shallow breaths through your lips. It doesn’t help. The sickening stench of those flowers is in your head. Flowers you’d picked out, now that you think about it. Janice had pestered you to choose. Orchids or lilies? Just like she’d wanted to know which dish to serve at the reception, chicken or fish? Just like the style of her dress had been up to you. Was this going to be your life? Would Janice be following you around for the next sixty years, unable to make a move without your approval?

You think there’s something familiar about the floral scent, and as you ponder, it takes you away from the church and back to Manta Beach in Ecuador. You’d definitely been in love with Janice then (like you still are, right?) on that vacation. So in love you’d asked her to marry you. You hadn’t planned it; you didn’t even have a ring. Your mind goes back, to her slim silhouette visible in the early morning light through the silky sheer nightgown that went to the floor. You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes (or hands) off her. You made love to her that first morning to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the beach, the morning the pair of birds first came to visit. They’d had feet the same color as the damn tie around your neck. The larger bird, the male, waddled up the path that led from the beach, across the veranda, and right up to you. The female was behind him. Always. Waddle, waddle, waddle. Every day. Right behind her man. The bird liked that though, didn’t he?

The organist plays the opening strains of the Wedding March and you look past the rows of your family and friends as Janice and her father begin their walk up the aisle. Her dress has a strapless bodice, just like you’d finally said you preferred when she’d asked for the tenth time. It isn’t see-through, of course, but you can imagine her slim body underneath. Her skin is so soft. The thought of touching it calms your nerves, though your heart picks up its pace. You look over to Ken, best man, and he nods and smiles. You’re relieved you can smile back so easily.

Janice’s father kisses her on the cheek, and she turns to you. “Ready, partner?” she whispers. You nod once, your eyes drinking in her beauty as you take her delicate hand in yours. Her perfume has replaced the stinky flower smell and you breathe her in.

Turning, Janice takes her place next to you. Shoulder to shoulder, you stand together before the priest.