The Magic of (Other People’s) Weddings

by John Meils

An hour later, it was as if someone had counted me down from ten: hypnosis was in full force. I went under right about the time the mini-quiches and grilled sea scallops were circulating.

Dinner was kicked off by an uncomfortably long prayer from a born-again uncle and was interrupted constantly by a slew of toasts, including those from the requisite drunken bridesmaid, fraternity brother groomsmen, and awkward stepmother.

Next up was the slide show that tracked the bride and groom’s life from impossibly cute babies to awkward teens back to impossibly cute adults, now together as one. I tracked Lorri’s reactions throughout and saw her get teary a couple times as she looked my way. We were cute babies, her eyes said, that could be us. I smiled, lips tight, and wondered why it was taking so long for dessert to arrive.

Time sped up the next day. Lorri was off getting her hair, makeup, and nails done while I played golf with a group of guys whose wives and girlfriends were also in the wedding. Later, Lorri emerged briefly in her bridesmaid dress, which was—you guessed it—watermelon pink with a slight shimmer. She was harried, scrambling for keys and shoes and dashed off before I could tell her that she looked stunning.

The church was an Episcopal number made of stone, the interior framed in soaring white walls, the ceiling slashed with beams. I sat next to Lorri’s friend Jena, with whom I’ve become friends. “You and Kevin get married in one of these?” I asked, as we waited for the bride to emerge.