Saturday
Saturday
L ewis watched his shame mix with dregs of shampoo and slip through the shower drain. This was a wedding day, and he felt a little guilty starting it off by pleasuring himself. He blamed his brain. Perhaps this weekend interruption to his usual routine was the cause of the unusual REM activity.
Stepping out of the shower, Lewis quickly shaved his face. While there wasn’t much to shave, he wanted to look as kept as possible for his friend’s event. Lewis then combed his short hair, parting it to the side. A light smear of mousse ensured it remained in place. Reaching his collarbone, he righted a leather cord necklace with a small amber bead. Lewis was not one for jewelry, but he had been a fan of Jurassic Park and this piece had caught his eye when he was abroad with his parents. The region was known for its amber and it had also been the last trip he took with his family before his dad fell ill. The prehistoric gem was now a reminder of two pasts.
Lewis stared at himself in the mirror. His indigo blazer fitted him nicely, although a bit of his stomach teetered over the belt. He sighed. He looked like a teddy bear on his best days, a potato on his worst. It was an honor to be Ryan’s last groomsman, and Lewis would do anything for the closest friend he had in college, but he was still thankful Ryan and Ayla were so lax about their wedding. They allowed the groomsmen and bridesmaids to pick whatever formal attire they wished, so long as they were not in black or white.
Despite his own preparations, Ryan was generous enough to swing by Lewis’ hotel to pick him up. He was both surprised and not that two other groomsmen were already in Ryan’s crossover, dressed in their formal attire with bags of unopened beer bottles.
“Welcome to the party bus!” one man hollered.
Lewis released a chuckle and clambered in after them.
A drive later, they pulled into the venue, a quaint winery with Tuscan accents and a barn to house the reception. The wine-tasting rooms were partitioned into dressing stations, and here Lewis met with the other men and received a corsage, the one thing uniting the groomsmen in their appearance.
After final touches and one more pass of the lint roller, the groomsmen filed out with the bridesmaids to the ceremony space in the manicured garden. A string quartet played them in, perking Lewis’s ears. He really loved string quartets. He had wanted one for his own wedding, but Cynthia wanted her sister to play the piano instead.
Fixing a practiced smile for the photographer, Lewis then allowed his gaze to drift toward the horizon. Seeking refuge from the memories of his own wedding, he looked past the blushing bride with her parents on either side, past the beaming crowd sitting in duplicated rows of white banquet chairs. He watched the wind stir the branches of green, ghosts of the land carrying on with no regard to the fleeting moment of human ceremony. The invisible forces lifted skyward to melt into the blue expanse. Lewis wished to go with them.
The officiant and ensuing vows condensed into a drone as Lewis unfocused his eyes and the palette of the landscape disassembled into smears of paint. His part was over, so he allowed himself to dissolve into the moment. The practiced smile remained fixed on his face, while beyond the flesh his mind fled elsewhere. It wasn’t until the groomsman before him stepped into his line of vision that Lewis realized the ceremony was over and they were filing out.
The wine-tasting rooms had been reverted to their mundane use, albeit with a bit more decoration for the event. Servers wove between chatting clusters amid the clinking of glasses. Lewis nursed a glass of champagne as he leaned against the live edge of a mantel crowning a rustic fireplace centered in the room. It was a welcome reward after being at the mercy of the wedding photographer and the myriad shots she ordered.
“Lewis Lam, is that you?”
Lewis turned around to see a smiling man with slicked-back hair. He was in a sharp navy suit that spoke of money and refined taste. Soon Lewis’ memory caught up and he realized he had once had a class with this man. “Arun?”
“Yeah, man! Good to see you!” Arun clapped his shoulder. Heavy cologne wafted toward Lewis’ nose.
“How have you been?” asked Lewis.
“Busy! My brother formed a start-up and I’m his lead guy in investor procurement and relations.”
“Wow! That’s intense.”
“I’ll say!” Arun plucked an appetizer from a passing server and popped the whole stuffed mushroom in his mouth. He quickly chewed and swallowed it. “What about you? What have you been up to? Still into journalism?”
Right, it was in a digital media class that he had met Arun. Lewis was surprised he knew Ryan or Ayla. “I ghostwrite for internet news blogs.”
It was a half-truth. In reality, he was one of a dozen ghostwriters for a mid-tier social media influencer trying to get her own listicle site off the ground.
“That’s cool.”
“Not really. I’d prefer to write my own work,” said Lewis, gulping his drink.
“Well, do you? Like are you writing a book on the side or something?” asked Arun with wide eyes.
“I’m trying to. Things have been a little hectic the past year,” Lewis chuckled nervously. “Family stuff.”
“Ah, say no more.”
Lewis had a good run in high school. He had been on the baseball team and some would dare say he was a jock at the height of his athleticism. He was never without a date at school dances, but he always felt people only liked him because their team performed decently. In college he found deeper friendships. He probably mellowed out as well once removed from the influence of his trendy, sneakerhead cousins. Once college passed, he thought his next path in life would forever be braided with Cynthia’s, and that it would lead him to a shining peak when they were old and happily fussing over their grandchildren. However, his path dropped off a cliff.
It was just a slump, he reminded himself, but platitudes would only last so long. Lewis knocked back his champagne and ordered a screwdriver from a bartender to equip himself for the reception.
The barn was dressed as elegantly as the bride. Ryan and Ayla’s wedding photos could easily have been used to advertise the venue. Lewis was glad to be tucked away at the back of a table near the remnants of a livestock stall. The aged wood was a nice shelter from the glitz of phone camera flashes. Dust filled his nose, drowning the perfume of rustic floral arrangements. His screwdriver had been reduced to ice, but attentive servers were expedient in grabbing him another.
The guests cheered as Ryan and Ayla had their first dance in the center of the barn, garlands raining over their heads from the rafters. Lewis continued to sip his drink. He would stack empty glasses as high as he could to remove himself from all of the beautiful reminders of what could have been and how he had failed.