A grooms story (Part 2)

This is the 2nd part of the grooms story. Come back tomorrow to read the ending!


Down in the dressing room my reflection looked at me from the mirror and nodded in a sort of general approval.  I had cleaned up nicely, and had worked out and eaten right and whatnot for a while before the wedding because I wanted to look good in the pictures.  
Pictures, as it happened, were being taken of the bride and whatever other hoopla that accompanies a room full of women preparing for a wedding.  I don’t know what goes on, but the thought of it terrifies me.  I wasn’t concerned about the wedding photographers.  Jess (my sister) and Tony (we might as well be related) from Dark Light Photo Studios had given their professional services as a wedding gift to us.  Both were (and continue to be) incredibly talented photographers and I already knew what they were capable of, so being concerned about wedding pictures never even made it onto my radar scope.  
In that capacity I can’t relate to any drama that engaged folks have in terms of finding the perfect photographer, but I imagine it’s a whole other thing.  
I had a nice showing of friends at the thing.  Chris, who would officiate the ceremony thanks to being ordained online, had come all the way from Alaska just to do the ceremony and visit for a couple of days.  James and his wife had come from St. Louis.  Pat had come from Montana to be the best man.  Cousin Matt came in from Illinois.  Grumpy and his wife flew in from Vegas.
Gallo flew in from California.  He missed his flight, then got drunk in the terminal waiting for the rescheduled flight, and subsequently missed that one.  The morning of the wedding I found him sleeping in his rental car in the driveway.  He’d arrived in the middle of the night, drank a few beers in the driveway, and slept in his car because he didn’t want to wake anyone up.  
That’s how he rolls.  
A little while before the ceremony started a few of them came down and hung out with me in the dressing room.  There was a good deal of friendly ribbing taking place, much of which centered around the idea of “Run.  I’ll cover you”, and “It’s not too late to fake your own death”.  I considered both. 
 
I got the butterflies right before it was time to get up in front of everybody and stand there in my penguin suit.  It started sprinkling a little.  The music also started.  It was the “Butterfly Waltz” by Brian Crain, which is lovely if you haven’t heard it.  
Patrick stood behind me.  He and I have been friends since before either of us can remember.  He had the ring box in his pocket and had been given very explicit instructions by Jenny (with whom nobody wanted to argue) not to even open the box and look at the ring for fear of losing it.  The real reason we didn’t want him to look is that I had sketched a rudimentary picture of a nutsack and hid it in the box so when he opened it to hand me the ring, there it would be.  He’d be sacked, and would then have to try not to laugh amidst the overarching gravity of the occasion. 
Sacking people is a game long played by my friends and me.  It would take some time to explain.
~Zachary Wakefield

 

Zach Wakefield is a family man from Vermont with many interests including a variety of musical instruments, electronic engineering and inventing, medieval weaponry, and creative writing.  He also manages a blog, aptly named ” Random Things to Read ” which he uses as a creative outlet or just a place to goof around with words.  Zach has also published a lovely little illustrated story-poem entitled ” Rutkin ” (an equally, if not as obviously, apt name)  which, as you’ll see if you click on the link there, is available on Amazon.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: