“Are you a groomsman?”

“I’m not that important. We lost touch a little these past few years, but I’m not sure if I ever would have qualified to be a groomsman. We went to high school together. Now, one of his groomsmen, I was a groomsman at his wedding. So, it all evens out.”

She smiles, then responds, “I probably already knew that answer. I’ve never heard you mentioned before.”

“Well, I know when to judge a conversation by the stuff in it, not by its words. I think you just dissed me politely. I mean, I think you actually do like me.”

“You’re right. If I was dissing you. You would know it.”

“Well, I don’t think this black looks good on me. You don’t like me in it? Do you? Tell me the truth again.”

She looks down, next up, whimsically laughing and tells him, “No, it doesn't. You’re right. But you already knew I’m the honest type.” She laughs to herself even greater and pauses, already addicted to her sarcasm.

“What's your name? I’m Ariel.”

“Marty, I'm Marty.”

Weddings are ceremonial for vicariousness, envy, or apathy, and one could tell of the other, wondering exactly how they were the way they were. It becomes conventical fore some and the church, along with its people are muses for the loving half, and he thought the room and its air felt like one of those snake wrangling churches with true believers worshiping and another half, just not so enthusiastic.

Ariel reaches, keeping her eyes to him, for a bottle, and she lowers her gaze, pouring the effervescent stuff unmethodically missing the tall slender champagne glass only barely. Before taking pleasure, she notices the entire place and thinks of herself, and other bridesmaids.

“Marty, have you ever noticed there are two types of wedding people. One loves to be here; the other does not. I’m of the latter. I mean these large weddings, captivate some. Like that girl right there. I know her. She is unmarried and obsessed with this one and one she hasn’t even had yet. Now, that other girl there, the whole thing is grueling to her.”

“I might be a rarer type. I don't like weddings per se, but it is doing its job now. I came here to meet new people. I've been alone quite a while.”

A drunk man passes through the tables and his consumption could be seen on his face. As he talked to himself, Ariel and Marty could hear him as he passed by.

“Did you make that out,” Ariel says?

“No, but there is always at least one. Someone to ruin the atmosphere.”

“I used to be that guy.” She reached to the floor, sits a purse to her lap, and shows a weathered hardcover book saying, “See, I’m a recovering alcoholic. I just wanted to get it all out there. And yes, this is real alcohol. There is no telling what will happen when this bottle is empty.” Her vocables hate each other, and she sighs after a sensual, “Mmmm,” and looks back to Marty saying, “It has been three years. Or, it was three years, now it’s nothing.”

“Why would you do that? Just ruin all the progress you have made?” ‘

“You know, you are very attractive,” she says, obfuscating her situation.

His eyes widen and he tells her, “You might be one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met.”

A large crash could be heard, and the man profusely apologizes, but screams his words to the top of his lungs, then continued screaming his name, “Jerry, I am Jerry.”

Several men rush to escort him, and Ariel takes another drink, laughing at every word screamed, and said to Marty, “That’s going to be me in an hour. I’m telling you this is dangerous business. It’s exactly why I Quit. I have no control.”

He says back, “Haha. You’re kidding me right. You get like that guy?”

“Every ounce of it.”

“Well does it hit all at once, or is it progressive?

“My normalcy, let’s say, has a half-life of around a few minutes now, then progressively gets worse,” as she shoves another drink into her mouth.

The man’s screaming can be heard, only getting softer and softer like an echo tied to distance, as he is escorted outside.

Ariel grabs the bottle, pouring another while she tells Marty, “I’m not sure I can keep my mouth shut. I know something about the bride, and I thought I wouldn’t say anything, but it’s eating at me.”

“You don’t want to ruin a wedding do you.”

“I can’t even wait until that tenured question is asked. That’s it. I’m doing it!”

She abruptly stands and starts to scream, loudly. A few here, a few there, person by person she gained the whole audience.

“I have something very important to tell you. The bride. She is holding a secret, a great secret.” As she does this the bride briskly aims her way to Ariel, but before she gets close, Ariel lets out. “We are lovers, the bride and me.”

“This woman is insane, someone take her outside!” the bride tells, screaming.

“Haha,” then Ariel takes another drink. “Doesn’t everyone want to hear the truth. The reason this wedding should be cancelled and never should have started, I should have done this earlier.” She points to the groom, who is making his way to the events, and says, “She is in love with me too. I know so because she tells me every time we are together.”

Dead still, and shocked, the company from young to old, dropped their mouths, holding in anticipation, unsure of right and wrong. Eddie the best man perched up in his chair, rises from it and follows just behind the groom.

Eddie sagaciously, like he held some power to deflect attention from one place to another, halted the large room, piecing together a sentence hilly but round, as his words’ pitch birthed from the same, came out with an unevenness, but he had a face that made all in the place trust him.

He said, “Everyone…calm down…I’m sure we can resolve this.”

As his verbiage charmed, then the bride placated nothing to this but was angry accusing Eddie of a treasonous act, showing her hands moving as long and high as the value of her words, she made livelier that better half who felt cheated by Ariel, her ruining the story.

“Eddie, we are not entertaining this. At all. You know what. You,” as she points to Ariel, “You are leaving right now!”

The groom extends his hand to soften his bride’s voice and next he talks to Ariel, then the entire room saying, “I want to hear this. Please be quiet.”

“The bride starts to cry and hesitantly heaves out, “What, you don’t believe any of this do you?”

He responds but to Ariel, “So what exactly is going on here again?”

“Everything, I know it’s generic, but its everything. Everything that life is, is what has been happening to me. To her the bride…And Jeff I’m sorry, but she hasn’t been faithful to you. Every emotion. All of it. Everything is condensed into one ball of ambiguous stuff that I can’t quite make out right now, but I know. I know what is right and it’s to say this. Sarah, I love you. I have always loved you. I feel like there is an octopus swirling around inside me. Last Saturday, just last Saturday, I know you said it was over, and I know I’m ruining something. It’s just that it was a lie. I know you can feel it. The only thing real in that conversation was when our hands were touching. All those vows he was going to say, and you were going to say. Well, you see they wouldn’t have been real. Please. Leave with me.”

Half the people there were now lost inside a narrative that was like staring at the side of a coin where you would have to move it to display the largeness of its other dimension. For them, like the wedding was going to serve, they made up the rest of this to a unique proprietary imagining that tailored to each one but was there alive due to the same prerequisites. They were that more idealistic half, and as some of them cheered, so did another half scorn.

Sara slowly walked unnecessarily adroit, like someone convinced the floor they stood upon was a tight rope, and her tears started to bare witness, showing which side she was on. Ariel moved her way around the table, inebriated, but knowing she had never felt this way before, comes slowly to Sara. The both met and placed their hands on each other’s cheeks and kissed.