For My Lover Flash Fiction
For My Lover
By Mark Mika
Christ it was awful. The whole thing spinning into a chaotic crapfest; just like a bad movie you said later. I could have sworn I saw Murphy standing there by the reception table laughing his bad luck butt off.
First the rain; and it’s never a good sign when it rains. Then the singer was drunk, making me wonder when Adam Sandler would arrive; and your dad, the bride’s father of all things deciding what a lovely idea it would be to tell the groom EXACTLY what he thought of his daughter marrying a diner cook.
“Slinging hash isn’t paying for this party! I’ll tell ya that!” I believe were his exact words.
When the caterer arrived, two hours late and with the wrong food, I could see the faces of guests looking towards the heavens for some divine intervention that would never arrive. I sat there in that chair behind the table of never ending crystal, china and flowers and wondered how just a few hours ago everything had been so filled with bliss.
The church stuffed with row upon row of family and friends, the gasps of pleasure when the wedding march began and every eye was riveted on the bride. God- I about burst into tears myself.
The vows went off without a hitch and when Father Michael went into that speech about having watched the bride and groom grow up together; from grade school and on, and the way he loved the whole damn wedding party like his own family and all! I mean, sheesh- I thought the whole room was going to have a group hug singing kumbaya!
It was so perfect.
And then, in a few tiny hours those same people all sitting around with uncomfortable, dour faces, impatient fake smiles. The bride, so immaculate at three O’clock now seething and crying at seven as her father and new husband get into a schoolyard fistfight.
Not the way to start a life together. I was actually thinking about saying piss on the whole affair and sneak out for a few dozen cold ones at the pub and then it happened. I have no idea why I hadn’t noticed, too busy with everything I suppose. But there you were, standing over me as I sat in that chair, amidst all the chaos and yelling and my eyes, I swear on my mother, they had never seen such a glorious and beautiful soul.
“Lawrence, right?” The words came from your rose lips like a sonnet.
“Call me Larry- you’re Beth, right?” I stammered with a 4 pound tongue. “The …
You smiled and sat down next to me laughing, “… that pending disaster’s little sister…and bridesmaid.”
“Right, right- I’m hashslinger’s best friend, and man.” My palms felt like they’d been dipped in water.
You raised yourself up, golden tan, eyes of emerald hope, and without effort took my hand and raised me up with you. You asked me to dance and I swear to you my lover, my love- it wasn’t the moment in my life where I knew I could be a man- it was the moment I knew I could be a good man.
And I will never forget what you said as we walked through the maze of tables to the empty dance floor.
“So Larry, what do you do for a living?”
We haven’t stopped laughing since.
