The Jagged Smile

The Jagged Smile

I am twenty-nine and shivering in the cold.

I have an uncomfortable suit on. It’s a tuxedo that I’ve rented to make sure everyone knows I’m serious about what’s to happen next. My father is next to me and another stranger is on a step above. We’re outside waiting for Lesley to marry me at this altar.

The stranger is a bishop freed from his diagonal prison and free to walk on or over whomever he pleases. Lesley will be walking down the aisle to confirm that she’s honest, and two people who have freely chosen to be together now are bringing, if not God into it, but at least the law.

As I wait, I think of a long-running joke. The law is now involved. So, I’m planning to tell her that she now has a legal obligation to hug me. She’ll laugh and get me, I project. Say something like “I don’t remember that part of the vows” and I’ll tease that she should have read the fine print before signing. I hope that makes her laugh harder and hold me tighter, which sounds like a microsecond of heaven.

I’m feeling pride at Lesley about the vows. The bishop is my mother’s Anglican priest, and I’m to be honored that he’d spend time with 30 people. We met him to go over vows. He told us that God already sees that we are married, and I’m not sure why he’s sharing that. Have we been sinning and God forgives us? My mother kinda wants this so we want to make it work.

I’m willing to say whatever it takes to get this done. I’m not interested in the paperwork but interested in children. This is the expected license to ensure that I will not randomly walk away; however, that seems odd after a twelve-year relationship like ours. The bishop, since I’ve no vows and would rather just not shout to the heavens about this, gives me 30 words where “I love you and won’t leave” is the only real message.

Lesley will not say whatever and is upset. Lesley is a practicing Lesleytarian where “don’t know” is a good answer for what God is. So, saying things about Jesus (whut?), or God? Well, that’s not really honest and isn’t that the whole point. Lesley must do this to prove she’s an honest woman but doesn’t lie. She wins and I can tell the bishop is now unhappy he’s coming, but owes my mother.

I’m looking into the crowd and there’s a friend of a friend who neither of us know well. I’d heard her whisper to someone “Oh, he just adores her” after watching us for twenty minutes. Do we really need this at all? It’s clear that I’m in love and will not be going anywhere soon.

The music starts and I can see Lesley and Jim at the end of the aisle. The march starts and she starts to walk. After two steps I see her laugh, the laugh and smile that I just can’t get enough of. She’s wonderful, but I don’t understand why she’s so happy. I’m cool and all, but a simple smile would do, no?

I start hearing a rhythmic sound. It’s coming from my future wife. Her shoes are slipping off her feet. As a counterpoint to the march, she is clomping down the aisle. It reminds me of when she’s really happy about a joke, a clap and a hard foot stomp punctuates her laughter. She can’t foot stomp now but it’s like she’s stomping all the way to me.

The vows? I don’t see anything at all.