It all went wrong. First and most, I had caught Greg's terrible cold and our cats had fleas. The only thing I had left to hold on to, other than my full bottle of DayQuil, were the facts that I hadn't yet caught pinkeye and that I'd be attending my best high school friend's wedding that night. I put on a dress and a cardigan and realized I looked like I was going to a funeral, then put on all my makeup, and then suddenly changed dresses and got on the back of Greg's Vespa. The suddenly very cold November wind tangled my hair and made me cry my makeup off my face, and when we were almost there I realized I was wearing the same dress I'd worn to the bridal shower with all the same people there. Oh well. At the church I got all tangled in my scarf during the ceremony and got the giggles very badly trying to sightread the solemn Catholic hymns. I was standing behind someone very tall and so couldn't see the kiss, but I watched it from the viewfinder of a stranger's camera. I was very happy.
My friend the bride, who I grew up with in New Jersey, wanted desperately to get married in a barn, and the one she chose was a hudred miles from her home and only four miles from mine. So Greg and I arrived early to the reception. The barn wasn't open. "Let's go to Lucky Lou's and have a hot drink," he said, coughing too. We had Irish coffees and then walked out into the colonial graveyard. We were improperly solemn again. I can't be unhappy in a beautiful graveyard.
The barn was open when we went back. Everyone there had grappled their way out of a hurricaned New York and New Jersey and everyone was yelling their stories very loudly. My voice began to fall away, and when I couldn't be heard any more, I retreated to the dance floor. Bon Jovi was celebrated as a god when he came into the rafters. Against all judgement we took the Vespa another four miles deeper into Connecticut, following our friends back to their hotel. We all promised to run marathons with each other, but not to do small things like call. Everything was loud and louder.
When I woke up in the morning my eyes were sealed shut with pinkeye. In my attempts to look like who I used to be, I'd used every brush and bottle I had. I threw all my makeup away, left with only my bare face.