Not Tragedies

It was a wedding, that's what it was. I'd stumbled upon a lovely little chapel, and a peak inside brought me a most spectacular view of a large gathering of people, all rested and patiently waiting in the pews.

Of course, I hadn't so much stumbled upon the wedding as been invited to the wedding as the best man. But, anyway!

I walked down the aisle, and as it was much too early for me to set myself into my proper place, I decided to stalk around and have a listen at what all of the guests were conversing about or over.

"What a beautiful wedding!" one girl said, a bridesmaid, I think. She was talking to a rather hefty man, who had been hired to be the waiter at the reception. Must have been a family friend of sorts.

"It is rather nice," the hefty waiter replied. "The reception is outside, yes?"

"Yes, I do believe so. Or else, I'd urge them to change it immediately. Far too gorgeous out to stick inside!"

"Oh, I agree. Though, the weather forecast did say something about rain. Could have been meant for later on, I suppose."

"JUUUUUULES!" a booming voice rang through the chapel. A spin around showed a pressed-looking woman charging through the door and to the bridesmaid and hefty waiter. "Julia, Julia!!!"

"What is it Mary?" Julia replied. Mary halted in front of them, and pushed her wild hair out of her face while trying to catch her breath.

"Have you seen Shannon?" she breathlessly inquired. Julia's eyes bulged and her eyebrows decided to move north.

"You don't know where Shannon is?" Julia quietly said through her teeth.

"Well, I mean," Mary tried to explain, "Maybe she's in the bathroom... or maybe I didn't go to the right dressing room?"

"It's the one on the left. Which one did you go to?" Mary froze and winced.

"The one on the left." Julia started to panic, but Mary collected herself and tried to calm Julia down. "She must be in the bathroom, then! I'm sure she'll be out in a few minutes. OK, thank you for your help, Jules."

"Yeah," Julia said with great doubt. She watched as Mary ran away, and an anxiety still showed on her tight face as she turned to the hefty waiter. "She goes to the bathroom a lot," she nervously laughed. "I think it's some sort of bladder problem or something."

"Right," the hefty waiter disinterestedly replied. "Well, I should go sit down now. Nice chatting with you."

Julia smiled as the hefty waiter left, and her eyes caught mine and showed fear. I didn't know what sort of fear, but it was definitely there.

"Jon," she said. "You haven't seen Shannon, have you?"

"No, I only just arrived a few minutes ago," I replied. Something wasn't right, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. Why something wasn't right, now that probably did. At least, quite the investigator. "You know, I've spent plenty of time around her, and I never noticed her leaving all that often for the bathroom."

Julia was nearly angry, it seemed, at what I said. Like I should have known that she was lying. Well, sure, I knew she was lying, but again, the question was 'why?'

"Jon, you're an idiot." Maybe not nearly, then. Rather angry. Promptly, she stormed off, most certainly in search of Shannon. It didn't take long to find her, though, as she was causing quite a scene just outside the doors.

"That's not what it was, Chris! Please, believe me!" she shouted. Tears and mascara ran down her cheeks, making her look even more ugly than I thought she ever looked.

"That's not what is was?" Chris spat, though his voice was shaking as much as hers. "So, you weren't on top of him?"

"No, I was," she stupidly replied, "but we weren't doing... that!"

The arguing went on and on, round and round, to the point where everyone realized it wasn't going anywhere. But, oh, the people were so entertained by such a fight.

"What's going on?" someone who had just arrived asked. I looked over to see it was Guy. Trust him to arrive late.

"Fight," someone else replied.

"Fight? On their wedding day? That's not a good sign."

"Of course, it's not a good sign. The wedding is ruined now, even though it would have been so beautiful."

"Ruined? What a shame."

"What a shame she's a whore," the other person laughed.

"Ooh," Guy said in a painful tone. "Can't say I'm too surprised, though."

So, Chris stormed off into the right dressing room. Being the best man/friend, I figured I should console him. He sat down on the couch sort of thing that was in there, and buried his head in his hands. I sat down beside him and placed my hand on his back.

"Hey, man, shit happens, right?" These were not really consoling words, but I couldn't think of much else. "At least you found out before the wedding."

"Oh, Jonny, you always know what to say to make me feel better." Lots of sarcasm, as to be expected.

"Just saying, there's always a bright side."

"Hmm, I guess you're right," he replied. "I mean, technically our marriage is saved." He tried to smile, and failed miserably. Instead, he settled for a sigh. "I need a drink."

"Well, you've still got all those champagne bottles for the reception."

"Yeah... where are those?"

"I'd think they're at wherever you're- or, you were having the reception."

"Good point." He stood up and yanked my arm. "Come on, Jonny, we're going on an adventure."

As we left the room and, essentially, the church, peoples' eyes stuck to Chris and silently mourned for him. They must have noticed me at some point, too, but I didn't need any mourning done for me. Or at all. Lucky.

We had a hell of a time finding where the reception was to be held. I was driving, since Chris hadn't brought his own car, and I'm terrible at following directions. Also, Chris barely had a clue where the place was.

"Shannon was gonna give the driver directions," Chris solemnly said. "I only heard where it was, like, once. Maybe twice."

We did find it though, due mostly to luck, I think. But we did find it, and there we did also find quite a few fancy looking bottles of champagne and some nice food being set up.

"Ah, wedding done already?" the caterer asked as Chris tried to grab about five bottles at once.

"Never even started," he grunted, and walked away. The caterer, a seemly kind lady, looked confused.

"Found out his fiance's a cheating bastard," I informed her. "And, really, who would marry a girl like that?"

"Jonny!" Chris demanded me by his side. Probably he needed some help carrying all those bottles. He dragged me along to a building right near the large tent that was set up, and threw himself to the ground.

He started to drink, downing the first bottle rather quickly. I was always under the impression that drinking made him quite sick, but he had no problem clearing every last drop. I just watched him, not wanting to disturb his persistence.

After a relatively short amount of time, he was blind drunk. He looked at me, eyes droopy and unfocused, his mouth hanging open as it tried to bring oxygen to his lungs.

"Fucking bitch," he mumbled, and set his head down on my shoulder. "That's what she is. And I don't need her! I've got you, Jonny," he pointed a shaky finger in my face, "and Jonny is all I need. Because you're my best friend."

"Yeah." I figured it was best to just let drunk Chris go about his drunk business, then deal with the consequences later. Ouch, foreshadowing?

"You smell good, Jonny," he slurred.

"Do I?"

"Uh huh. You smell really good." He turned his head a bit a buried his nose in my neck. "You always smell good."

"Well, thanks."

"But you know what I'd like to know?" he whispered.

"What?"

"How you taste." He raised his head and met his eyes with mine. "I bet you taste good, too."

"You think?"

Why was I being so indifferent? I mean, Chris was certainly one of the best looking men I'd ever seen. I loved him dearly as my friend, as well. All this talk about tasting, and not even so much as a single butterfly. Until his tongue reached its destination, which was mine, if you couldn't infer.

Oh, and then it was like a rush. A rush of sparkling, shining goodness shot from the brightest guns of happiness that lodged itself in my chest. Did it pierce my heart? Good question... I'm not going to answer it, though.

Is it wrong to take advantage of your drunk best friend? Probably, but here's what I'll say in defense: he started it! (It's a bit juvenile, I know.)

And he ended it, too. Won't say where or how, because that's all a bit too dirty for a story that started off in a church.

So as we laid somewhere with some clothes that may or may not have been worn at this particular time, Chris slept off his alcohol. His bare (or perhaps clothed) chest was steadily rising and falling. Not like I was watching or anything.

Things grew dark after a while, and Chris opened his eyes and yawned. He didn't look surprised to see me laying next to him, without, or possibly with, clothes on. He just smiled.

"I knew it would happen eventually," he said.

"What, us?"

"Yeah. I think everyone knew," he laughed. "But I do have a question for you, since I was a bit drunk."

"Which is?" I asked.

"Was it good?"

"I don't really have much to compare it to, but yeah. It was pretty good."

"Well, then," he said, scooting closer to me and tracing his fingers along my collarbone. "What do you say? Again?"