I stared through the glass and thought of bears, lions, monkeys… Well, apes really. For Mollie, I had been all of them at one time or another, dressing up as she’d requested and growling, squawking or hooting like she wanted in order to fulfill some deep craving inside. One night I even hung from the chandelier by one hand, scratching my side with the other and howling like a wild man--an idea that seemed like fun at the time, but then went south as everything came crashing down. That stunt put me on the chiropractor’s table, and then out of work for two days.
Thinking back through it all, Mollie and I had ourselves a grand time. I wouldn’t say that we were inseparable, like there was some deep attraction or cosmic law of gravity love that pulled us together through time and space. No, it was more like driving down the road and finding a detour sign that took you through a part of the country you would have never thought to look at before.
But that all ended last night, when she told me it was to be our last journey together. Afterwards, we could never see each other again. It wasn’t like I didn’t know it was coming, though. We’d often talked about this day, how it was rapidly approaching and things--life in general, really--would have to be different.
Beside my reflection in the glass, another face appeared. Behind me, a voice asked, “Are you ready to be seated, sir?”
I turned around, caught the wondering gaze of a young usher who couldn’t be more than fifteen. I then glanced back through the glass at the people already seated, all of them listening as the string quartet played some classical piece.
“Yes,” I said. “I'm ready.”
“Are you a friend of the groom?”
I smiled, thinking about bears, lions and apes again.
“No, I’m a long-time friend of the bride.”