Disclaimer: Do I really need to disclaim anymore? We all know WTB? isn't mine, right? Got it? Good.
On with the story...
6...
Tony was beginning to remember why he'd been so reluctant to take this trip down memory lane. It wasn't the remembering so much as the emotions that were brought up. Somehow, even the happiest of memories were laced with bittersweet. It made him question himself, who he was then and who he had become. When he'd asked Marie to marry him it had been an impulse. Yet it had taken him years to ask the same question of Angela. He'd even counseled her on the subject once. What was it that he'd said? 'You don't think these things, you feel them.' And she had told him that love sometimes wasn't enough. At the time he thought she just didn't get it, but looking back, maybe he was the one who didn't get it. And maybe living with Angela all these years had changed him. The idea frightened him a little, but it also made perfect sense. Loving someone inevitably meant change.
They say every little girl dreams of the perfect wedding. Well, little boys may not plan it out in detail or spend hours obsessing over it, but they think about it too. Okay, maybe not little boys, because to them girls are gross, but when you get older and fall in love with someone you want to give them the world, a perfect wedding included. I wanted Marie and me to have a day full of friends and family, love, God, and a beautiful start to our life together. I wanted us to have the church wedding with all the trimmings, and a huge celebration after. What we got was an appointment with a judge and big dinner back at her parent's place.
I was so excited, so nervous, standing up with Marie in front of the judge in my rented suit. I tried to ignore the bored tone in the official's voice as he emotionlessly read through the ceremony. It was all I could do not to pull him aside and make him put a little effort into his job, maybe be happy about what he was doing for us. But then, all I had to do was look into Marie's eyes to realize it just didn't matter. I was marrying the woman I loved, who cared if the judge was interested or not? She was something beautiful that day, her long hair curling down her back, and the borrowed white dress she wore practically gleaming. My heart almost stopped when I first caught sight of her standing on the courthouse steps. This was the girl I was gonna spend my life with.
Dinner was awkward and tense. Our father's had never thought much of each other, and Marie's mother just couldn't understand why I'd invited the Rossini's to a 'family' supper. Marie took it all in stride, but still I wished I could've given her something more.
I kept this thought to myself though; figuring a complaint would surely make things worse. But when we piled into the van, all it took was a loose button on my suit and the weight of the day came crashing down around me. I slammed my fists down on the steering wheel and apologized for the judge and the dinner, the lack of time and money to do things right, and mostly for that stupid button. That damned button. To me it symbolized everything that had gone wrong; to Marie, it symbolized everything that was right. She took it from me and taped it to the visor of the van with a smile.
"Tony," she told me, "it doesn't matter if it wasn't perfect. Life isn't perfect, but we've got each other and we're married, and that's what today was about. Not churches, dinners, or buttons." She laughed then; that same sweet giggle that first drew me in, "I'm Mrs. Micelli now! There's no stopping us! We've got a lifetime ahead of us, you and me. A nice wedding would've been...nice, but it's only a day in a lifetime. And." She nuzzled up to me suggestively, "I can think of a few ways to make this day a whole lot better." So, we drove off into the night, the rattle of tin cans behind us and the future wide open ahead of us.