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The moment we stepped into the church; the sky broke in a torrent of rain.
“We got here just in time!” My father declared as we hustled into the antechamber. He was holding our wedding planner, Chey, hostage by regaling her with the tale of his wedding day.
“It was wonderful, and Lorraine, she was a vision,” he gushed.
They nodded, and her shoulders instantly relaxed when she saw me.
“The eagle has landed,” she mumbled into her headset. She had to be at least 6’1, with an angular face framed by bleach-blonde hair. She was the most organized person I ever met. It was terrifying. Today she wore a smart black blazer, a white silk blouse, and high-waisted trousers. Not a hair was out of place, despite the rain.
“I was looking all over for you,” she hissed, adjusting my bowtie.
“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered. I turned to my father, “Where’s Mom?”
“Oh, she’s helping Rebecca, something about the dress. We don’t need to worry, though; that’s a woman’s business, right, son?” My dad elbowed me in the ribs, and my heart dropped into my kneecaps. I knew that the dress had been giving Becca trouble, and combined with the humidity, it must feel like a strait jacket with lace detailing.
“Let me get a good look at you,” My dad hooted, grabbing me by the shoulders.
“I never thought I’d see the day you settled down. This one was quite the lothario back in the day,” my dad told Chey. She nodded and scribbled something on her clipboard.
The next half hour was a blur of activity. Before I knew it, I was standing on a platform next to the priest as guests started to file in, shaking their umbrellas off and adjusting their damp dresses and suits.
“Are you ready, son?” The priest whispered. I nodded and gulped, taking in the scene before me. The church felt stately and storied, with vaulted ceilings and large, stained-glass windows that would have been beautiful on a sunny day. The air was heavy with the scent of incense. Weathered wood squeaked as guests slid into the pews. I spotted some of my friends from work and Jay in the front row. Jasmine was Becca’s maid of honor.
The organ droned to life, and I saw Becca’s father’s head appear at the end of the aisle, before everyone stood up. Becca looked radiant and deeply uncomfortable. The lace detailing of the dress squeezed her curves, snatching her waist in places where it did not ask to be snatched. I could see the discomfort deep in her blue eyes. She offered me a small smile. The veil sat on the crown of her head, held there by a diamond tiara. The skirt was so tight Becca had to take minuscule steps. When she finally reached the altar, she looked out of breath. Achilles flashed me a smile as I took Becca’s arm.
“We are gathered here today,” the priest droned.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“No,” Becca squeaked. “My organs. Also, is it ten thousand degrees in here?” The church was not air-conditioned. Even though it was midday, it was sweltering. I was sweating, and I only wore a suit. I couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable this heat would be with a corset.
“It is hot. Can you take off your,” I struggled for the word; Becca wore two long lace sleeves with slits in the shoulders; I could tell they weren’t part of the original dress due to the tiny slit that showed off Becca’s shoulders. They gathered in the back, like a bow in reverse or arm tights. It was confusing.
Even though neither of us was religious, and the priest reassured us that the ceremony would reflect that, he was currently droning on about the covenant of marriage and quoting various bible verses about obedience. I was pretty sure between that and the dress, Becca’s wedding day was turning out to be more of a nightmare than a dream. People were starting to yawn. Sweat was dripping down my back.
“And now, the rings,” the priest announced. Olivia led Joey down the aisle. As a toddler, he was still relatively unsteady on his feet, but he clutched the pillow with the rings on it using every ounce of concentration he could muster in his tiny body. As Joey approached, I could hear him grunting. He grinned when he saw me, then presented the velvet pillow triumphantly before he pitched forward and fell with a wail, sending the rings flying. His face scrunched red as he sobbed loudly. Olivia picked him up and scrambled to find the rings.
“Oh, it’s okay, Joey, don’t worry,” Becca soothed. She saw the glint of the ring out of the corner of her eye and bent down to grab it. Then, time stopped. It seemed to happen in slow motion; the sound of her dress ripping reverberated into the rafters. One of her sleeves had ripped clean off the shoulder, and when she shrugged to try and hoist it back on, the back split. Someone gasped. I looked out into the crowd and saw that several of Becca’s sorority sisters were huddled together, whispering. The older ladies from the Dover Chamber of Commerce looked like they needed help picking their jaws up off the floor. The sound of people chattering grew, at first it was a couple of errant whispers, but soon it transformed into a genuine rumble of confusion and pity.
“Poor dear!” one old lady quipped. Becca’s cheeks reddened like two ripe tomatoes. Jasmine sprang into action and draped her lavender bridesmaid shawl over Becca’s shoulders.
“We’ll fix it before the reception,” she hissed.
I didn’t know where to look. I gave Becca’s hand a supportive squeeze and helped Jasmine fix the shawl onto her shoulders. Unfortunately, I made eye contact with Regina, who was livid beyond words. I swore I could see smoke billowing out of her ears, her face was beet red and her mouth was pressed into a thin, outraged line. If she wasn’t surrounded by her peers, I had a feeling she would rush up to the altar and throttle Becca. I squared my shoulders into Becca’s line of sight so she couldn’t see her mother, but I knew it was useless. Anyone with an ounce of emotional intelligence could tell that Regina was furious. I saw Achilles gulp and grip her elbow. He whispered something into her ear, but she swatted him away.
Thankfully, the priest was unfazed. Becca and I presented him with the rings. The cushion they’d been placed on was somewhere behind a decorative plant. Again, he droned on and on about commitment, but I was too focused on Becca to care. She was blinking back tears. When it was time to kiss the bride, I captured her lips with ease and leaned her into my touch. We walked back down the aisle and resisted the urge to hoist our arms up in celebration. Finally, we made it to the vintage white limo.
“Are you okay?” I asked as Becca slid the tatters of her dress sleeves off her shoulders.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m so embarrassed. I feel like I died on the spot,” she said. “Was it bad? Be honest. You have to be honest with me; we’re married now,” she added.
“It wassomething,” I said.
Becca groaned. “At least once we get to the reception hall, I can change into my reception dress,” she said.
“I still think you look beautiful,” I said before I leaned in to kiss her. She slipped her tongue into my mouth.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
