Walking down the aisle. The slim coolness of my dress. Being the absolute center of attention is suddenly not frightening. Everything is happening so quickly. He squeezes my hand and I am surprised at how small his hand is. He is shorter than I remember, too. Has he shrunk? Is this the right man? I stumble, or something, and we both laugh - we are lost in happiness together. It must be the right man, he has the right laugh. Of course I cannot see his face.
Flash backward to a few days before the wedding. I can't get married. I don't love him.
Flash forward to the night of the wedding. I have not married the man with the right laugh after all, but James in his towering self. He went to his house after the ceremony. I was to meet him there. The pressure in my mind is immense. Sex. I know there will have to be sex; he expects it. It's a horrible idea. What have I done? How could I have failed to think this through? I know my choice is to lie to myself or to ruin a sweet man.
I find things to keep my hands busy, do not answer the phone. I think of my body and tell myself it's because I am ashamed of myself, when really I know I would never want to be naked with this man. I consider telling him I'm on my period. I try to call him with a multitude of lies but automatically dial Pete's number instead. He laughs at me. He is happy for me; I try to feel what he is feeling.
I think about how it will be to tell people I'm divorced. Maybe I will just leave that part out, never acknowledge that this mistake ever happened. We nevr consummated, the paperwork will be easy. He will be so disappointed.