Episode 17: Regression...The more the merrier

The large mahogany doors swung open to the open aired room. The ceilings were larger than life, and the sound of the echoing voices made me feel like I was in a 13^th century European church. The downtown cathedral was a large building and a popular one as well. It must have cost her an arm and a leg to rent this place for a few hours…..this I could only hope if it would slow down the process to her baton death march. She wouldn’t stop smiling as the coordinator pointed out all of the neat things about the church. You know the unnecessary details that make absolutely no difference for the wedding. For example, No one cares that the stone floors were all imported from Spain; Whoopy-freakin-doo. I rolled my eyes as the “tour-guide” continued his historical rampage. We finished up in the church and I took a seat in the front row. I made sure she reserved that seat for me. I was going to go through with this, the least she could do is give me front row seats to the circus….excuse me wedding. I was the photographer for it. I think she strategically planned to make me the photographer ever since princess charming asked her to marry him. “Lets give him a camera and let him run around.” Its like giving a child a package of gum; “That’ll get ‘em to shut up!”, “Here chew on this for a while.” She told me it was because of my elegant style, that and she didn’t want to pay thousands of dollars for some paparazzi to stick a lens in their faces for their first kiss….or is it? I found myself scoping out all the spots to place my tripod during different parts of the recession….I mean ceremony.

We left the cathedral and walked to the small deli shop by my work. Good ol’ memories, I thought to myself being reminded that this was the spot she told me he was interested in marrying her. We ordered our food and sat down. I was a bit apprehensive when meeting with her today. All she wanted to talk about was the wedding, and all I wanted to talk about was euthanasia….that was a joke by the way. I haven’t quite figured her out. Every so often she remembers that I’m the one she told she still had feelings for not too long ago. It’s during those days that she asks me: “So how are you doing with things?” The strange thing is, I would almost rather have those days than ones like today where every other question consists of: “So are you totally excited to take pictures for the wedding?” I now imagine what it must feel like to watch your favorite football team lose the Super Bowl to the archrival and then have to write a newspaper article on how amazing the winning team played.

We finished up our food and made or way to the street to walk around while her other half finished picking the colors for his dress…..ok so he was still at work. I tried to stay positive as we passed the multitudes of memories from the past few months of my life. You know, the coffee shop where I spilled coffee all over my jeans, the Italian restaurant from my schizophrenic dream, and the bottom of the elevator inside my office building where she would stand in a creepy manner at the exact moment I stepped over the threshold. I could feel the tears well up inside my eyelids, so I slipped on the aviators and continued to walk. Why aviators? Well they are bigger, and I there is a lot larger distance that the tear has travel to reach a visible state, and I hoped the reflection of her eyes would distract her from my own.

We reached the hospital and he walked out of the automatic, double sliding glass doors and came over to her. He kissed her on the lips….yes I dare say on the lips….So much for the paparazzi moment. We walked back to the church for another round of insane asylum tours, so that he could fully experience 100 years of place he would spend a few hours not even looking at his natural surroundings. We opened the large mahogany doors and made our way inside to see the familiar face of the same guide we had last time. He intently looked at me and smiled like some creeper from the morgue knowing I would some day occupy one of his body bags. I felt like every comment was directed at me throughout the entire tour. I’m sure it had something to do with me falling asleep for the first hour while he talked about the 200 pilgrims who supplied the wood from a forest outside of Pennsylvania just for the pews.  

We finally finished the tour, and the sun was setting on another not-so-beautiful fall day. Despite the fact that it was bitter cold, my day wasn’t even over yet. Normal people go home and go to bed when the sun sets, but she insisted we visit the place for her reception. She said it would be a place I would enjoy. We drove around until the surrounding area became a bit too familiar for my comfort. We pulled into the parking lot of a familiar clubhouse. I guess she doesn’t know the meaning of “be original”, because it was the same clubhouse where my best friend and his wife shared their wedding reception. Was this some sort of sick joke? She told me she thought I would appreciate it because we shared some good laughs here….Well who’s laughing now? It certainly wasn’t me. We walked around the place, and the aviators weren’t quite doing the job. Not only was she and her future husband my ride back home, but I was imprisoned by the concrete memories of Bob and Carol and their stellar Spanish accent. I took a walk over across the dance floor listening to the voice in my head repeat the same thing it told me that night: “not yet…just wait it out.” I excused myself to the restroom and completely fell apart. I needed a perfect excuse to explain the crimson red eyes being shielded by the unnecessary sunglasses. I couldn’t stop the pounding of my heart and the shaky feeling in my legs as I watched them practice their waltz. This was really it. Maybe this was what the voice inside my head was trying to tell me. I guess it was trying to save me from a world of hurt. It did to some extent, but the reality is, I still feel it, even now as I sit on the sidelines watching my favorite team lose the Super Bowl.

She came over and sat down at the table as doctor what’s-his-face negotiated the prices for renting the club. She started to talk about all the great memories we experienced her not too long ago. I was about to explode. I am curious if she is simply oblivious to what she is really doing, or if it is just some plan to get me back for all the years of silence and pain I caused her. I stopped her mid sentence and said: “Now is really not a good time to talk about this.” She looked at me rather puzzled. As I turned my face away, she caught a glimpse of the tear trail rolling down my face. “What’s the matter?” she asked as if she had no clue at all. I tried not to be silent, but I had no words. He came over and took her hand. She guided him to the center of the dance floor and placed his hand on her lower back to dance. I felt like I was in a nightmare. He looked over at me with that ugly twinkle in his eye as if he was visually taking ownership of her. I guess this is the part of the movie where I go over and punch his lights out and sweep her off her feet, but the reality is, I couldn’t find enough strength to even say a word. They finished the last dance and we all made our way back to her car. He went on and on about how beautiful the clubhouse was, and how perfect it would be for the reception. I sat silently in the back seat staring out the window. I counted how many times her eyes ventured to the back in the rear view mirror.

We pulled up to my apartment and said goodbye before stepping out. I made my way past the infamous picnic table, and climbed the stairs to my apartment. I opened the door and stood silently in the entry way as the teardrops slowly hit the floor beneath my feet. It was pitch black in the room, but my mind was filled with faded pictures and memories of the distant coffee shop and my baby blue jeans, the yellow brick road to death and the automated carwash where I beat my head on the steering wheel. I could hear myself humming “waitin on a woman” and “bittersweet symphony” as the darkness continued to fill the room. The voice in my head telling me to “wait it out, not yet” taunted me as I stood in silence. I collapsed to the floor and fell asleep. The song from the waltz and his eyes meeting mine kept my heart beating relentlessly on the floor as she spun around smiling in circles in my head. Only a few more weeks, and it really would be the end….finally.