Only she remembered what happened on her wedding because everyone else was dead.&nbsp; It had been tragic, really. Horrifying. She stood shivering, quivering like her body just couldn’t stop moving despite feeling like she couldn’t take another step. The dress pooling around her legs like heavy, crumpled bedsheets. The gold band, slightly too big, nearly slipping off a trembling finger. The cheers that had long faded away still ringing in her head. Laura remembered it all, every detail and every guest that now lay in red-stained ribbons at her feet. There was the groom, Gary. Who woke up too early and had a small triangle of freckles on his left cheek, who wore rumpled sweaters and jeans and always put his socks on first because the hardwood floors got cold as an ice rink. Who chuckled at his own jokes and always laughed at hers, no matter how terrible they were because humour was not her strong suit. But he laughed and the room lit up, echoing with pure delight and happiness until she found herself chuckling too. Who fell asleep fast with his mouth wide open, who drooled on the pillow mumbling nonsense in his sleep. Gary who tripped on the threshold and watched late-night TV and never raised his voice at her, not ever, but sometimes threw things. Pillows and couch cushions, chairs and wine bottles. The bottles would hit the carpet intact with a dull thunk, but sometimes she wished they would shatter just to see if Gary would pick up the shards with his bare hands. She didn’t want him to hurt himself, but he was the one who threw those things in the first place, wasn’t he?&nbsp; There was the maid of honour, Madison. Madison used to wear her hair in pigtails and skin her knees on playground equipment. Who was hopeless at math but had the nicest handwriting anyone had ever seen, who read books three times her reading level but only specific comics, thank you very much, because the adult ones are more interesting than the ones made for kids. Who covered her freckles with yellowy foundation and got Brazilian waxes twice a year because her new boyfriend said she needed to. Who laughed like a horse and cried like a fire hydrant, big gushing tears and a red-flushed face. When Laura asked her to be maid of honour Madison sobbed just like that. She wouldn’t stop for so long you would think something gut-wrenchingly, unfathomably terrible had happened.&nbsp; There were the bridesmaids, Kris and Julia and Yasmin and Bella. Her sorority sisters, each as stunning and different as the flowers in her bouquet. Kris and Julia, who did everything together and kept their legs turned towards each other in group conversations, whispering and giggling in hushed voices. Yasmin, whose gaze would stay on Julia even though she never looked back, who followed the two around unnoticed and inevitable as a shadow while they partied and brunched and hooked up with frat boys. Bella, who insisted that boys were beneath her, whose pillow was often damp with tears that Laura pretended not to notice. Gary was the only boy who Bella ever seemed to like, more so than her own father or brothers, and he liked her too because he could tell no one else did. That was one of the few things Laura hated about him.&nbsp; There were Great-Aunt Joan and Great-Uncle Horace who couldn’t let anything go, whether the waiter got their order wrong or if a stranger on the street wore something they didn’t like, they would yell about it. Laura’s mother always said it was because of the war, the war did this, it was so hard at that time, that’s why they’re so angry. Great, Laura would say, now they’re making everyone else angry too. Great-Uncle Horace who had a face like a wadded-up napkin and hated everything that wasn’t televised golf or his record collection, who spent most family gatherings holed up in his room like a moody teenager. Great-Aunt Joan who wore too-strong perfume and was never seen with less than three layers on. Although she didn’t know which, Laura was pretty sure one of them was gay and just extremely unaware of it- too busy bickering to think they should have spent their billion years alive with someone else.&nbsp; There was the best man, Lucas. Gary’s brother, who was all wide grins and half-lidded eyes, with a spray tan like a newly-stained deck chair. Who had cropped blond hair and a pink face and square jaw, whose main interests consisted of sports and beer. Who blared the TV so loud you would think he was partially deaf, which he probably was by now. Who flirted with Laura more times than she could count because he knew it bugged Gary even when Laura told him to cut it out. Who had big hands and blunt fingernails he would drum on the table, who drank and swore no matter the time or place, who catcalled women he saw on the street and laughed when they tensely hurried out of sight. Her parents-in-law forced Gary to make Lucas his best man and threatened not to pay for their share of the wedding until he gave in. Lucas, who looked truly out of place in a fresh-pressed tux with his hair all slick and combed; but that didn’t feel half as weird as seeing him at Gary’s side, their heights clashing awkwardly like puzzle pieces crammed into a spot that didn’t fit.&nbsp; Laura’s parents didn’t come at all, and it sickened her to think that was ultimately what saved them. Why they were out living their lives instead of lying at Laura’s high-heeled feet like all the other people she loved. They should have been here to see what their little girl has grown into, to celebrate the promising woman she’s become. She deserved to have them here with everyone else because even though they acted like they were so different from their own daughter, they weren’t. Not one bit. Plink. The gold band slid off her finger, hitting the tiles like a bell chime. It rolled away from her pile of skirts til it was stopped by Gary’s shoe and fell, the matching band on his finger gleamed in the evening light that was drenching his face like a halo. Poor Gary, whose mouth was only slightly open now as he lay perfectly still and not even drooling, so Laura couldn’t pretend that he’d somehow just fallen asleep. Wiping her eyes, she kicked off her pretty shoes and hiked up her pretty skirts like some twisted Cinderella, stepping over the limbs and faces of her new family and friends as their fallen purses and limp hands lay painted in the sunset. Laura looked up at the light trickling through the tall windows, stained glass splattering colourful smears across the canvas of her skirt. The sunlight was warm on her bare shoulders and caressed her blood-crusted fingertips like Gary would when he used to hold her hand.&nbsp; She smiled then. The wedding had turned out beautiful, even if no one else would ever know.

Something Blue

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Something Blue

woollyhmammoth

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Something Blue

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