My Redacted Life: Chapter 34 (Cont._2)

 The days leading up to the wedding passed by like gray horses filing through a morning mist. I was apprehensive. Brenda was busy. Friends were inquisitive. I’d never attended a church wedding so I didn’t know what to expect. Ours would be a simple affair by modern standards but an affordable and accessible one. I still harbored a fear of speaking before a group, but I wouldn’t have a lot to say.

Besides, the three harpies had made me go over my lines do many times that I knew I couldn’t fail. The pressure seemed to make Brenda grow prettier every day. I don’t know exactly why. She wasn’t landing the catch of the century or anything. I was overweight from the eating binge that had accompanied my successful decision to quit smoking. I wasn’t above drinking too much. I could summon up a temper when I wished. I still felt I was four years behind my peers who had successfully avoided the draft.

But she stood by me, a trait that would continue.

My neighbor wasn’t so kind. She constantly reminded me that my bride-to-be could have “had her pick of men.” I should, therefore, consider myself lucky and do exactly as I was told. Hadn’t I been to boot camp?

“Well, yeah.”

“Just consider this another boot camp. One for wedding preparations.”

“Now one is not helpless simply because one is a man,” I said. “I have a good job, I served honorably in the military, People are starting to show a great deal of respect for my work and my opinion. I don’t have to stand for being treated like a two-year-old.”

“Shut up and listen,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. She had caught me going to my apartment and stopped me in front of her door. She fastened the top button on her blouse and pinched each side of her bra through the material with her fingers. She tugged it back and forth until she was satisfied with the fit and stuck a finger toward me.

“This is going to be one of the most important nights of her life,” she said. “It’s up to you to help make it happen.”

“I plan to.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“A suit?”

“Not a tuxedo?”

“She said I didn’t have to.”

“I’ll verify that,” she said. “You’d better not be lying.”

“She said we didn’t need any extra extravagances.”

“That sounds like her, but I’ll check anyway.”

"You do that."

“I will. Who’s going to be the best man?”

“My brother.”

“Will he be sober?”

“I suppose so.”

“You’d better know so.”

It went on like this for a while. I became confused. Weren’t weddings supposed to be about love? If so, would not wedding preparations also be about love? I was feeling more like a Marine recruit that a soon-to-be husband. She broke my reverie.

“You know I’m doing this for your own good, don’t you?”

Before I could answer, she continued. “We think an awfully lot of that girl.”

“I do too.”

“Then you’d better pay attention and carry it off like it’s the greatest thing that ever happened to you.” With that, she opened the door to her apartment, went in, and disappeared. I didn’t know what the hell to do next. I was thinking that I wasn’t going to put up with this crap from a bunch of women much longer. I was the man in the group and damned sure ought to let them know who was in charge. It surely wasn’t this neighbor with her lack of attention to dressing skills. We'd get this straightened out. Still, I didn’t move.

She had neglected to dismiss me.

This marriage thing wasn't
going to be as easy as I thought.