The necktie looked stupid. No matter how many times his bride of twenty-seven years told him otherwise, Morgan could not be unconvinced. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was loosing his daughter this Saturday, he would have to do it in a monkey suit and a necktie. He fiddled with it uncomfortably, finally ripping it off and throwing it to the ground.
"I'm not wearing this, Lisa! I look like a cheap waiter." His wife casually picked the tie off of the ground and brushed it off.
"It's only for a few hours, Mory." He knew he was just a few more minutes argument away from giving in, and so did she.
His back ached like heck. Morgan stretched out in all directions, exaggerating the process to make his point known. These pews were solid wood. Nothing but two layers of fabric between his sore tailbone and a two-by-four. Morgan hated pews.
"Why couldn't we have had the wedding at our church?" he asked. "At least our pews have padding."
Lisa rolled her eyes and made an expression of mock-sympathy. "Yes, the middle of nowhere is the perfect place to make three hundred guests drive to early in the morning."
"Hey, it wasn't my idea to hold this thing so early." He paused. "Speaking of which, where is that girl? Shouldn't she be here by now?"
His boredom was complete. The bride was now twenty-five minutes late, and the organist was getting carpel-tunnel. Morgan looked up at the rafters above, imagining random ninjas crawling overhead and sneaking around until the time was right to strike. In his mind, he watched one ninja turn on the others for no apparent reason, and a terrific martial arts battle took place two stories above. His daydream ended abruptly when he heard his wife whisper something in his ear.
"What's that, dear?" Too nervous to be bothered by his lack of attention, she repeated herself.
"Do you think that she's alright? Kate is never late for anything. She wouldn't be late for her own wedding!"
Morgan rubbed her back to console her, but had very little words to offer. "Maybe she was detained... had to get gas or something." She was staying with a friend just down the street. Crap. "Or maybe they eloped?" The stern look on Lisa's face made him shrug and stare back up at the ceiling.
There were other ninjas now, crawling up the grooves in a wall. One of them began to pull out a knife, but he was promptly hit by a throwing star. He fell down to the ground below. Had the physics of Morgan's daydream been accurate, the ninja would have fallen onto several people and snapped over a pew. As it was, he merely fell out of the daydream, ceasing to be.
"This is ridiculous." Morgan stood up and looked around, much to Lisa's embarrassment. Their many impatient relatives stared back. "Does anyone here have a cellphone?" Several people offered theirs up to him. He dialed Kate's cell number and pressed the phone up to his ear. After several wrings, he left a quick message for her that scarcely hid his concern. "Hey honey, it's Dad. Call back this number to let us know that everything's okay, alright? Bye."
The pastor came down from the podium and leaned over to speak with the parents of the bride. "How much longer do you want to wait? I'm fine to wait a while longer, but I have an appointment that I really need to show up for." Morgan was irritated by the question, but he feigned courtesy.
"My daughter will be here, or she'll call. She's very punctual and--"
A great commotion was brewing and heads were turning to see what it was all about. Morgan turned to see his daughter rush in with the bridesmaids, all looking somewhat rushed and only partially done up for the occasion. There was no time for the organist to play before Kate marched up to the podium and asked the pastor for the use of his microphone.
"Hey everyone! I'm sorry to keep you all waiting, but my maid of honor just had dizzy spell. She's alright, and she says that she's going to be here by the time we get to the 'I do's, so, yeah. Sorry for the delay. Should I come in again?" she asked the Pastor.
"Yes, yes!" he shoed her off to the back.
Lisa wiped a tear from her eyes and tried to regain her composure.
"Thank you, Lord," she whispered.
Term of Use:
This work may only be used or reprinted with the explicit permission of the author, Michael N Lovdal. Please send your requests to michaelnlovdal(@)gmail.com. (Remove parentheses).
Read more articles by Michael N Lovdal or search for articles on the same topic or others.