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Not a touch of color.
There was nothing colorful but the deep dark colored dresses of women scattered across the large lawn. Some guests were seated on the adorned chairs while the wedding planner and staff worked diligently to dry and cover the remaining seats. Time was of essence as clouds rolled, mocking the shimmering sun and hiding it over again with heavy pools of smoky pearls high in the sky.
The chatter thickened in the large crowd, and familiar faces stopped to congratulate me. I heard endless wishes for our union and saw flashing smiles for days.
Some seemed sincere, others felt forced, and a few were out of respect.
Blurs of wedding workers passed through my vision. Scurrying with flowers at high speed.
So many flowers.
She’d saidenough flowers to drown the smell of corruption.
Say no more, Katia.
Quickly and in record time the lawn transformed into a bed of flowers. They bled from above and swept through every inch, dripping with fantasy and poise.
Their perfume lingered in a condensed dome around the premises. The smell of corruption was extinguished by nature, the leftover odor of petrichor, and white blooms.
I thanked the couple in front of me, and politely stepped toward the wheelchair pushed by Mrs. Greco.
“Is everything running smoothly? Would you like me to check—”
Sliding my gaze up, I shook my head, cutting her stressed tone.
“Everything is perfect. Thank you for all your work.”
Her timid smile formed wrinkles around the corner of her warm eyes.
“A wheelchair, Sal?” I jabbed and concealed my smile.
“She won’t let me walk!” he spluttered in Italian.
“Oh please, you won’t make it through a Catholic wedding on two feet.” Mrs. Greco snapped back into an old Italian accent.
Her eyes widened, catching my glance.
“My apologies,” she mumbled quickly.
My chest bounced in a scoff.
“Please don’t. Feel free to knock his ego anytime.”
Sal’s features contoured into displeasure, and his lips shook into angry incoherent mumbles.
“I’ll give you both some privacy,” she added and dashed a few steps behind to meet Talia and Carlo.
“Can’t believe a boss invited thehelpto his wedding.”
It held no conviction. I almost cracked a smile at his bad-tempered snap.
“Says the man who enjoys the company of some of thehelp.”
He coughed loudly and reached behind him to grab his air tube before mumbling. “If this cancer doesn’t kill me, fucking allergies will.” Sal pulled his fedora lower and breathed in clean oxygen, and continued tickling his throat, ignoring every word I had spoken.
“Come on, old man, I have a spot for you.”
I moved behind him, catching the tank attached to the back of the chair, and pushed us to the side.
