Al's
Wedding
For
Alex
You have flown interstate for the wedding of Emily and
Al, your partner's cousin. The ceremony took place beneath a two-century-old
oak in gardens occasionally open for bookings. The bride was beautiful, the groom
teared up. During canapés and
photographs, you slipped a hand into your partner's and clustered with their
parents.
You had said: 'Hello, Ian, you're looking well. How are
you doing, Sue?'
Sue had responded: 'Hello.'
You stood alone behind the crowd gathered to see the
bridal party off. You watched the bouquet toss but did not pay attention -
whilst everyone was distracted, you noticed Al and his best man, Pete, down
shots of a red liquid. Movement in peripheral vision turned your gaze 110°
leftwards, where three men similarly toasted - Chris, Frank and James.
James poured a sixth shot into a fish pond and a goldfish
had leapt out, on fire, onto the lawn. Chris nudged the burning fish into
garden bed with a few discrete kicks. Frank had surveyed the crowd for
witnesses, his gaze falling on you.
He raised index finger over lips: 'I'll get you a drink
later.'
You said: 'Aren't Emily and Al paying the tab?'
The reception is being held in the function room of a
beachfront hotel. Seated next to you, your partner catches up with one member
of extended family or another. Your bored gaze lands on the card attached to
tabletop floral arrangement: roses
provided by Phillips Street and surrounds. An uncle arrives with a wine for
your partner and notices your empty glass:
'Sorry, kiddo, didn't realise.'
You wave it off politely and stand: 'That's all right,
I'll grab my own.'
At the bar, Al sidles into the space adjacent to you:
'Apparently I owe you a drink. What'll it be?'
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