Chapter 12
DAVID
You’d have thought it would have made sense to get married in April due to her name, but a Chicago wedding in April is risky. You want the bride to be dressed in white. You don’t want the guests also to be “dressed” in white due to falling snow.
And April had insisted that we get married in front of her family and friends in Chitown. I had no problem with that.
Chicago in the summer is one of the best cities in the world. Winter, not so much.
A few years back, I spent part of January in Chicago on business. The wind could be so extreme that, while walking between two buildings, I was basically moving backward despite walking forward.
I think that’s what they mean by a wind tunnel. I had to sprint to arrive safely on Michigan Avenue, more or less.
I could have joked that it’s called the Windy City for a reason, but that was actually because their politicians are full of hot air.
The wedding was a beautiful event.
April looked the part with a gorgeous A-line dress. Even though she had curves in all the right places, her dress was more classic than revealing. It was the right call.
My buddy Chip was the best man. He’d been at the USC/Notre Dame game in which I’d met April, and he used that to roast me.
“We all thought David was a sports fan, but this guy couldn’t keep his eyes off this girl.
I mean, we were playing Notre damn Dame, and his little puppy eyes kept looking to his right instead of at the game in front of him.
We knew at that point that April would be wearing the pants in this relationship. ”
My father shot me a quick glance, but I laughed it off. If that was the worst joke Chip told, I could live with it.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Chip managed to fit in a story about us going down to Tijuana during college and ended by saying something like “They say, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Not Tijuana. That shit will follow you back.”
This time, it was me glaring at Chip. He took my cue and ended with some sentimental stories about me, highlighting how good a guy I was.
He then congratulated April and me, walked over, and gave us a big hug.
All’s well that ends well, right?
April’s maid of honor was Margie Hoya, her best friend since they shared a dorm room as freshmen at USC. She was also at the infamous USC/Notre Dame game, but had a different interpretation than Chip.
“I don’t want to say that David was perfect, but he was already more interested in April than the football game. For all of us women out there, we wish there were more men like that. Pardon the bad pun, but you caught a good one that day, April. David is a touchdown.”
I’d never been that close to Margie. I had always been cordial with her, but she gave off the vibe that she was proud to have known April longer than I had.
She’d almost gloat when they rehashed a story pre-David.
That’s what they’d call it. It’s as if she knew all of April’s secrets and loved hanging that over my head.
Obviously, I never told April any of this. And I hoped that once we got married, I’d see a little less of Margie.
Her speech went on for a few more minutes, but nothing else really stood out. She wasn’t bad; it just wasn’t memorable.
But you know who was memorable? April.
She was the prettiest girl on the planet.
At least she was on that day.