“You’re…not going to run, are you?”
“I believe I just signed away my right to do that.” I tilt my head, as that’s not exactly comforting. But she sees my discomfort I guess, because she adds, “I’m not running, Boss. Go.”
I do, reluctantly. I’ve barely hit the stage next to the…minister? Justice of the peace? Elderly man donning a thick black wig, clearly just in an Elvis costume, who’s now changed into some sort of clergy get up, when the famous bridal song comes over the speaker.
The flourish of the chapel doorsissurprisingly grand in the small, stale, white room with burgundy carpet and garish stained glass windows. Or maybe it’s justher.Janie walksslowly, head high. She’s regal as ever, even in this gaudy place. She’s added a veil behind her neck and it creates a halo effect around her. When she reaches me, new ring, earrings and necklace reflecting little sparkles all around us, I cough involuntarily.
Then I cough again because…
Bloody hell, what is that smell?
The minister begins, obviously reading our names from cue cards. I study my bride but any nerves I could see on Janie’s face vanish as she locks eyes with me. Now there’s just disgust. She smells it too.
I cough again. Janie clears her throat.
Whatever that is, it’s getting worse.
Janie’s eyes are getting wider by the second. And they’re watering. Mine start to sting also. I look around in search of a bin or maybe discarded food? What the actual—
FURRRRRP!
Good God in Heaven.
The minister’s breaking wind. Just freely letting his flatulence fly, our WEDDING CEREMONY be damned?!
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.
Janie looks away as soon as she hears it. She’s shaking. With laughter.
How am I supposed to hold back now?
Her face is basically purple by the time the officiant asks her, “Do you take this man?”
She says, “I do,” and then snorts. Then regrets the snort because of the smell. Which makes us both crack up again.
The minister drones on.
“Did you just snort?!” I mouth to her.
“Shut up!” she mouths back.
In this moment, blush on her cheeks and smile on her face, I’m grateful for the old codger and his gas. I do feel a bit bad, sinceI’m sure she didn’t dream of a wedding in a sleazy Vegas chapel, holding stained, fake flowers and smelling of…whatisthat? Eggs and…broccoli? I cough again.
Janie cannot look at me without laughing.
But she’s not anxious anymore. Not disappointed. Not side-eyeing me.
She looks happy. That rare spark of fire is back in her pale irises.
And as I say “I do,” I make my own secret, separate vow. This girl, closed off and prickly as she may be, took on the entire load for her family and was crushed by the responsibility, the debt. She needs relief; financial, mental, even comical. Lucky for her, she’s marrying the family clown. Benedict Clark, always good for a laugh, I’ve heard it forever. So it’s easy to solemnly promise right now to do what I can to keepthis lookon her lovely face as much as possible over the next three months.
I just wonder exactly how hard a feat that will be.
12
JANIE
“Janie, WHAT! What is this!” Ellie screeches at me, holding up her phone with theUS Weeklyphoto taking up the screen.
