6.04 Always a Godmother, Never a God. The following day.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An ache thudded through her when she paused in front of the large glass display window.

An ache edged by a rueful laugh. So, a rue-flache then? All within, of course, because she couldn't explain it very well really, not even to him (though she knew he would try to understand.)

But she knows that at such a time in a man's life as this he wants to think that his lady love is focused solely on him. And well, just look at him: He's wonderful!

But back to the window and the funny t-shirts displayed there.

It made her rue-flache all over again, still inwardly, as she looked up at them: The first was neon grape and read 'I'm Too Sexy To Be 80!'; The other, a soft lemon yellow, shouted 'I Used To Skinny Dip But Now I Chunky Dunk!'

And she couldn't decide which was funnier. Just couldn't decide. It didn't matter really because the only one who would truly 'get' it wasn't with her.

She should be. Today of all days, she should be, God knows.

But things are just so hard with her right now. Too hard. And the ache over this loss is not a rue-flache at all, but real, deep, and ever present.

So she hasn't tried to call yet though she knows she should.

And she knows too that it hasn't all been about the not going back to school. Not exactly. But about back turning, and wheel spinning, and some other cliched metaphor about floating around somewhere without one of the those big ice-cream spoon thingamabobs that require manual labor to keep your boat moving.

And later that evening, after the fine bottle of wine and delicious food that has come to be part of what her life with him is, (and will be from now on, she supposed,) she couldn't stop thinking about those stupid t-shirts.

She just should've bought them, that's all. They could've been souvenirs of the special day.

But no, that wouldn't work.

No one wants a souvenir of the special day they missed.

There'll be the photos, of course. You have to have those, even for the simplest of these sorts of things. And the last minute dress she found to wear so pretty, and her handsome fella all cleaned up and shiny, though looking a little sheepish and worse for the wine (making him all the more adorable.)

And because digital photography is what it is she has the pictures in hand even now and their day wasn't even over yet. There's still more wine to drink and the little nosegay of orchids he bought her fills the room with heady romance.

Like a movie.

Only in the movie the bride wouldn't be inwardly rue-flaching over comic t-shirts. She'd be dancing to Cole Porter, with a Marseille wave in her hair, and diamond clips, or something like that.

And she wouldn't have any panty lines either! She'd been afraid all day that she'd had panty lines when they stood up together, even though he'd assured her to the contrary. There was only one definitive opinion on panty lines that mattered as far as she was concerned.

Which was a pretty funny thought to think after another bottle of expensive vino's been kicked.

And as he, sexy devil that he is, screwed (dirty!) the opener into yet one more, she had a sudden epiphany: What if she just called now?

What if she just called now and turned the other cheek and all that other good Samaritan crap?

The special day wasn't technically over yet, so it wouldn't be a complete miss for her, would it?

That's it. She'll be sweet and take the high road. And, really, who can get angry at anyone on their wedding day? Right?

A leeetle more wine would help, though...

And she's sure he'll understand if she takes a few moments to call. He knows their connection. Wants this reconciliation for her, after all. Understands its presence in her life. He wouldn't mind a few moments lost out of their honeymoon eve.

He's great that way.

So she sloshed slightly to the phone, hoping that the just bought sexy nightie made up for her lack of grace, and reached for the phone...

She'd just tell her the whole story, that's all. It's pretty romantic after all. And she'll be thrilled, that's just what she'll be... Right?

Sure she will. (She'll love the part about the helicopter, 'cause who wouldn't?)

She gazed down at the shining band on her finger and swayed a bit as the phone rang at the other end of the line until, at last, she answered...

"Hello?"

"Mom...?"

Maybe she should tell her about the t-shirts first.