The rain spilled onto my windshield. I was running late because I forgot my wallet and went back home to retrieve it. The clock was on the dash, staring at me, the rear view mirror was above me, beckoning me and the stereo was broken, infuriating me. But I drove on. In fifteen minutes she’ll marry. A complete idiot will have her hand, her everything.
Somehow I arrived on time and found my seat in the crowd. Ridiculously enough the wedding was outside and the seats were wet, as were the trees, the ground, the air itself. I mindlessly flirted with the guy seated in front of me. And afterward he kept turning around to continue but I always looked the other way.
At some point she appeared. A tiny perfect doll in a white dress. I felt nothing. She was were she wanted to be, apparently, and I just watched. Maybe I had a quick flashback of the two of us, alone, laughing, but it faded. The idiot was crying as he said his vows but she was solid, as women always are, her smoky little voice a soft caress in the humid air. I hadn’t heard that voice in over a year. And to hear it now, saying those words…
Later on she would talk to me, midst dozens of friends and relatives, hungry for her attention. And she would smile and laugh and hug me. Her face was still the same beautiful portrait it had always been. Yet the dress seemed out of place. But only to me.
Soon after, I left the party. The night was wet and full of music. And I walked, by lamp-lit pathway, to my car. I smelled the magnolias along the way. Maybe I would see her again, accidentally run into her some day, somewhere. She’ll be smiling as always and so will I. We’ll chat and then say goodbye. And her face, it will still be the same beautiful portrait it’s always been.