Even now, Jen has to admit the ceremony was a lovely blur, dulcimer music and wafting petals and a wave of smiling faces as the camera slid by, sun dogs cast as the afternoon glow struck the blown-glass Zen gardens adorning the tables.
There are things on the video she doesn’t recall seeing, that now make her sad, fill her with apprehension, as if this is a movie someone could rewrite. There’s Jace in his single-breasted black suit, attractive and smiling for the camera, but still looking ill at ease, like a loose end that doesn’t belong, someone who doesn’t know where to put himself. Ten feet behind him are Alice and her idiot date, Peter. Yes, that’s right, Peter, the jackass school-teacher wanna-be philanderer who can’t sail worth shit and who had no business setting foot inside this sacred tent on this sacred day. He’s looking smug and mischievous, touching Alice’s back where her dress doesn’t cover, nuzzling Alice every time he cracks a joke. Alice isn’t paying him much attention—it’s George she has fixed in her sites, with a wistful look that does not escape Alby.
“Jen, stop the tape!” Alby shouts. Jen stops the tape. They are gathered in the soft candlelit glow of her studio on this moonless night to celebrate, and possibly grieve, the events of last year. They’ve all had a good share of wine at the opening, which was a smash success. So they’re a little boisterous and punchy.
“I propose a toast and a hex to the bitchslut Alice,” says Alby. She raises her glass high and downs a healthy draft of wine.
Everyone follows suit, and shouts: “Hex upon bitchslut Alice!”
Even Mikolaj and Paul join in. Alice, as it turned out, had an unseemly network of gossip. Alby throws her head back and laughs. Rosemary and Jen exchange glances. In their hearts, they hope she means it. Paul notices their exchange, and gives Rosemary a little squeeze, pulling her in closer.
“Okay, roll tape,” Alby commands.
Jen presses play and fast-forwards through the crowd shots again, hoping to skim past the ceremony a second time. She is beginning to think their little anniversary party wasn’t such a good idea. It sounded right at the time, like a good way to cap the opening – just the five of them who are now knit tightly by past events. But she realizes it was all real, not just a story they tell. They were the people inside those different lives then, and even if it was for the better, it hurt when those lives were ripped apart.
“Please, let’s watch this part. It was beautiful for a moment,” Alby says when the camera zooms in on the officiant binding their wrists.
The camera pans past Rosemary and Jen, eyes bright and glittering with welling tears. In Jen’s case, she was remembering her own broken vows at that moment. And Rosemary was likely remembering Rob.
And then there’s Alby, resplendent and glowing, earnest despite George’s MIA stunt and late, disheveled arrival. She’s looking right at George, smiling. That was likely the last time she looked deeply into his eyes. The celebrant waves a wand over their heads and has them exchange rings.
She then says the most beautiful words they’ve heard on the topic of marriage:
“As the grass of the fields and the trees of the woods bend together under the pressures of the storm, so too must you both bend when the wind blows strong. But know that as quickly as the storm comes, so equally quickly may it leave. Yet will you both stand strong in each others’ strength? As you give love, so you will receive it. As you give strength, so will you receive strength.”
“There will be times when it will seem hard to give and to love. But see then your reflection as in a woodland pool, when the image you see looks sad and angered, then know it is the time for you to smile and to love. It is not fire that puts out fire. In return, the image in the pool will smile and love. So change your anger for love and your tears for joy. It is no weakness to admit a wrong: more is it a strength and a sign of eternal growth.”
“Forever love, help, and respect each other. The constant circle of love you share is symbolized in these rings. Let them be a token of your friendship and the partnership you have come to celebrate on this day. When the waters are rough, let these rings remind you of the ebb and flow of life. Let them remind you of the happiness you feel at this moment, and let your memory soothe your spirit.”
Jen stops the tape and looks over at Alby. Tears are streaming down her face, as they are Jen’s. They are all seated cross-legged on the floor of the studio, but Rosemary and Jen scuttle over to hug Alby in an awkward tangle. They have a good cry, for all the love that wasn’t, for love taken from them too soon, or in Jen’s case, for love that was squandered. After a while, they’re spent, yet ready to watch the carnage once more, lest they forget it.
Jen fast forwards to the groom’s drunken toast and pauses it, taking a deep breath. Mikolaj reaches over and takes the remote from her hand.
“Ladies,” he says, “We were all there. Do you really need to watch this again? Can’t we just move forward?”
It’s Alby who speaks up. “We just want to see it from the outside.”
Mikolaj casts Jen a glance. The love and concern in his eyes, the protection, makes her feel safe. She nods at him.
There they are, lined up along the head table like a queen’s court. Jen is sitting next to Alby and Jace is next to her. Mikolaj is three seats left of George, after his best man and girlfriend. Rosemary and Paul are on the other side of Jace. George pours another shot from the bottle of Ardmore single malt his best man produced earlier in the meal, and stands, wavering, to take the microphone. Alby looks at him, slightly bemused. She knows scotch makes him ugly.
“I propose a toast to my lovely, crazy, witch of a wife,” he begins. Clinking and shouts of approval rise from the room.
“You know, I almost didn’t make it to this fine event, but I heard the food would be excellent,” he shouts. Everyone laughs, ready to be entertained. Only a few of among them know how close to the truth this is, and they’re not amused.
“Then again, where else could a guy partake in public bondage with his lover but at a Wiccan wedding,” George continues, fueled by his receptive audience.
“The cool thing about a hand-fasting ceremony is that in the old days, it was a marriage on approval. After a year, you could trade her in for a new model if she didn’t pleasure you well.” More laughter rings out, but the queen’s court begins to tense up.
“Today, it’s not quite as simple. So I came to this day with mixed emotions. Because women are the devil, you know. They bewitch you, and if you survive that, if you don’t drive yourself through someone’s house on a suicide mission, they toss you aside when you don’t take out the garbage.” George looks around the room intently, reveling, we suspect, in the increasingly uncomfortable chuckles and gasps. Rosemary hangs her head and Paul places his arm protectively around her. Mikolaj starts to rise.
“For example, tonight I am flanked by the naughty school marm AND the philandering artist, though who can blame Jen when it turns out her husband has impregnated her arch-rival…”
Jen watches the realization dawning across her own crumbling, then furious, face. The silence is followed by murmurs and gasps. Mikolaj is behind George now, reaching for the microphone. George attempts to push him away, so Mikolaj hauls off and lands a right hook square on his jaw. The groom collapses behind the table. Pan right and there they are, Jace’s hands up in defense, Jen’s hand slapping his face as hard as it knows how. His glasses flying. Paul reaching out to hold him back as he jumps to his feet; Rosemary coming to put her arms around Jen. George is staggering back to his feet while his best man slides between him and Mikolaj. Alby’s hands are covering her face. But she takes a breath and rises gracefully, picking up the microphone, which has fallen to the table.
A hush falls over the room. She clears her throat.
“First, I’d like to apologize to my guests. I would like you to stay and enjoy the evening, and to celebrate your own lives. Secondly, I’d like you to take your gifts when you leave because this is the very last time I’ll be apologizing for George’s behavior. As many of you know, I will soon have one child to raise, and have no need for a second.”
She turns off the microphone and marches out of the tent. The court follows. The camera shows an empty table, two overturned chairs, spilled wine soaking into the white cloth like a bloodstain. Gasps and rumbles rise; someone finally has the mercy to shut the camera off and the scene fades to black.