It was wedding season when we were sitting at picnic tables at the lake by my house.
I used to bring my bean bags to that lake the year before and play with boys from the waterpark, where I lifeguarded when I was a girl. I sat on the tree when I was even more of a girl, the tree that was bent down, the branches actually drinking from the lakewater, like the tree in the movie My Girl, where those kids fall in kid-love. I sat on the tree with a boy, in kid-love, too. He lived behind the lake. We stole a boat once in the middle of the night. Didn’t get caught, what a rush.
It was wedding season when we went to dinner at the Greek restaurant you loved.
It was nice outside and I didn’t wear a jacket. I hardly ever wear shoes that hurt my feet, but this night, I adulterated my own philosophies while we ate Mediterranean cuisine. I wasn’t being myself with you yet, hadn’t let my guard all the way down. Not sure if I ever, all the way, did. I love the way the Greeks set the cheese on fire and cry Opa! but we didn’t order it. You said no because I’m allergic which is better than how I would’ve said yes, ignoring my best interest.
It was still wedding season when we were caught in the bookstore, in the downpour.
I could stay in a bookstore all day, even a corporate warehouse like this. I want my memoir to be chronicled in a new section, want it to be sitting appropriately in “Creative NonFiction,” instead of tucked in Biography where it shouldn’t be. I lost you, lost in the pages of a book that chronicled decades of album covers. Doyle Brahmall was in there and I asked you if you knew him, but we can’t seem to find any of the same music that resonates between both our ears. There was a picture of Jim Morrison that looks like a tattoo I knew—
When everything is wedding all around, it intensifies the wedding inside of you. It intensified the wedding inside of you when everything around us was wedding.
Like the night we surprised Paul at Promontory Point, which I could hardly find, even though I pretend I’m from that city. In the cab, you called to inquire and I promised I was on my way. To be your pair, so everyone was paired. To give you a girl for your arm to wrap around while the fireworks painted a clear sky with celebration stars. For you to take home, plan the weekend around, surprise with send-off picnics. We weren’t getting married, but everyone else was and I see how it put you in fast-forward for me.