Pete and I were waiting for the wedding to start, bored, not talking. He wanted to trade places on the pew for zero reason that I could see and I said fine but he was going to have to be the one to get up. He wanted to tell me something but was shy about it, and when he finally said it, I completely failed to understand what he was talking about.
I was late twice to Meeting and they marked my name down both times. I didn't think it was any big deal but the little girl warned me that on the third day I would be killed.
We weren't allowed out after dark, of course. But I went out, down the street, with a blanket, and slept on the couch ni the front office, soaked, shivering.
In my parents' house, I met the right man. There was no doubt. There were too many other people there, we couldn't talk, interruptions. I got maybe four sentences before he had to go. Everything inside me was very heavy. His voice had been a familiar one but I did not think he would be coming back.
From the kitchen window we watched the caravan of cars leaving, eager for them to be gone. If he has to go, make himgo. One guy's trunk was open wide, letting rainwater in. Someone produced a huge orange tarp-like thing that covered the whole car, with a zippered window for the windshield. I thought it was fucking hilarious and ran to get my camera.
I fumbled with it, standing in the rain; it had been a long time since I'd used it. My old 110. Someone reminded me I had a digital camera, which I'd forgotten. My mother asked me to wait until they got back, then there would be better pictures to take anyway.
Kramer came to find me and held me to his chest for a long time. "I just heard Brannon talking outside, and he is so, so bitter." He said Brannon but I knew he meant James. "He couldn't even talk to the little girls without bringing you up, and you should have heard his voice. Promise me you'll keep going." I wasn't sure what he meant but I rested against him and closed my eyes.