3
Bobby
Three Weeks To Go
“Hey, Babe?”
I turn away from the fights on TV and look into Kit’s questioning eyes. For a week, her face has been replaced with a notebook. Pen at the ready and smartphone in her spare hand, she’s been single-handedly planning a wedding that’ll go down in history… Inmyhistory, anyway.
I turn the volume down and dig my thumbs into her heels as they rest in my lap. It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon, and we have plans for the main card fight tonight. Everyone’s coming over for pizza and ice-cream… so, a regular weekend.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Are you ready for the lightning round? I’m starting to narrow things down, but I need some input from you.”
“Sure, hit me.”
She leans forward and slams her right fist into my shoulder. She’s a woman. I’m a man. I’m almost twice her weight, but it’s not her right shoulder that’s busted, and her knuckles are bony and painful. She’s not a tiny stinging mosquito, but a big ass sand fly that takes a chunk out of a guy.
I rub my shoulder. “Smartass.”
She laughs. “Okay, I’m sorry. Ready?” I nod. She nods.We’re going in.“Church or no?”
“What are my options?”
“We can go to the church on Wently Street, but neither of us have really gone to church much… might be a little disrespectful, ya know?”
“Okay, what are the other options?”
“Town gardens, park, national park, your mom’s house, George offered his home…”
“Do you have a preference?”
“Not really… I’m good with any. Your mom’s house might be nice; her gardens are lovely.”
“Okay, Mom’s house. Next…”
“Okay…” She smirks and makes a mark in her book. “Live band or DJ?”
“Band. I really like these local guys, so I’ll call them. I’ll organize that.”
“Okay.” She makes the note in her book. “Who’s standing up with you?”
“Jon, Aiden, Jim, Jack. Who are you having?”
Her pen skids along the page in a slash of blank ink. “Wait. You’re having Jack?”
“Sure. He’s my brother. Unless you want him on your side? Or, shit… Who’s gonna escort you down the aisle?” I’m such an asshole. Maybe that’s why she didn’t bring the wedding up until I did. Maybe I’ve started a whole new spiral of grief for her about the man who can’t be here with her. “Jesus, baby. I’m sorry. You can have Jack. You can have whoever you want.”
She shrugs and avoids my eyes. “I’m still working on my side, but I think they’ll be different sizes. You’ll have four, and I’ll have two. It doesn’t matter, right?”
“Baby?” I reach across and bring her eyes up to mine. “Are you okay? Who do you want on your side? Who do you need to walk you?”
Again, she shrugs. “I’m not sure yet… But I’m okay. I promise. I’m always okay. Do you think it matters that we have odd numbers?”
“Nope, it doesn’t matter. We can do whatever the fuck we want.”
“Okay, cool. And stop saying fuck.” She scribbles in her notebook, but her smirk is back and replaces the frown from a moment ago.