"I always cry at weddings," my friend Anna fake-sobbed, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. Her naturally loud voice echoed across the church entrance.
It was a hot afternoon, rare around this time of the year, and the wedding was only about to begin when Anna and I had arrived.
"Shh! Keep it down!" I hissed, "She can't know we're here."
"Helloooo, coming here was your idea, remember?"
"Yeah, but I didn't think that we'd actually catch the wedding."
"Oh come on."
"Shush! I think she's looking at us!"
A couple of meters across where we were standing, the blushing bride sat in her air-conditioned wedding car: an old, banged-up Mitsubishi adorned with paper flowers. She was craning her neck in our direction. I quickly shuffled to my left, concealing myself behind a tall plant. Anna smiled and waved her arms at her, mouthing CONGRATULATIONS!
Groaning, I tugged on her sleeve. "Stop that! We weren't invited. She might not have wanted us to know."
"If she didn't want us to know then why'd she post the wedding plans on Facebook?" Anna said as she rolled her big brown eyes.
"Ughhh just be quiet. And invisible. Please."
The bride was still looking at us, and Anna returned to waving.
"God, we don't even look like we're dressed for a wedding," I sighed, gesturing to our maong jeans and worn slippers. "Were you guys even close?"
"Nah, just friends I guess," she said, dropping her big clumsy arms down at last. "You?"
"Friends, ish. God, who would've thought she'd be the first one in our batch?"
"She's not the first to get married," Anna said.
"I mean the first to get pregnant."
"Ahhhh," she nodded. "Let's bet who comes next."
"I bet you."
"You fucker! Can you imagine me with kids?" I actually could, but it was not a pleasant thought.
At that moment, the wedding processional began. An unseen pianist began playing a soulless rendition of "A Thousand Years," as little girls with stripey pink dresses shuffled towards the altar. Among the few people in attendance, the women furiously fanned themselves in the stifling heat, and the men tugged at their collars and plucked at their polos.
"UGH," I groaned. "'A Thousand Years' is so not a romantic song."
"I don't want anything to do with Twilight at my wedding," Anna said.
"I have died every day waiting for you - Well doesn't that sound like a lovely thought."
After the flower girls came the ring bearers, and after them came some unknown young-looking people in the entourage.
Anna said, "The last time I was here, it was for my lola's wake."
"When was that?"
"September something, or was it October?"
"That recent? Christ, I'm so sorry, I didn't know."
"I'm over it now. I didn't even look at - you know, that part of the wake where they ask you to look at the dead person in the coffin? Well I didn't look. My dad says it's better that way, you know? That way you remember them as they were. Alive."
I nodded. "My aunt died a couple of weeks ago too."
She put a giant hand on my shoulder. "Did you look?"
"Yes. It was... okay. I'm okay. She looked peaceful."
"You must have gotten used to it."
"Yeah... I guess? I mean I'm used to seeing the dead bodies of strangers, but it's different when it's somebody you actually know and love."
She nodded her big, sympathetic head. "Does the smell of formalin stick to you?"
"After dissections? It probably does, but I don't notice it. Why?"
"Because back in Bio 10, we had to dissect a couple of frogs, and god the smell was so fucking bad that my mom would get headaches driving me back home."
"Oh, yes, I do get weird looks when I'm taking the jeepney back."
"Right? It makes me wanna barf. And I swear to god, one time, my stupid group members had me take out the bones, so I boiled the damn frog in my own kitchen - you know, to separate the meat from the bone - and the smell fucking stuck to every corner in my house. My mom was so mad. Even my neighbors were complaining."
"Wow, that bad, huh?"
"God, yes."
The bland piano rendition was reaching its anticipated conclusion when - "Ohmygod it's her turn!"
One of the bridesmaids opened the door to the old car, and from its ancient leatherette interiors, the blushing bride emerged. Our high school classmate, resplendent in a rented white gown, face veiled behind a thin piece of tulle. Anna and I squealed. The crowd held their breaths. I struggled to catch a glimpse of her groom, but he was obscured behind arms and hands reaching out a cellphone or tablet to snap a picture.
Slowly, she walked down the aisle, taking small, practiced steps towards the altar. So young, I kept thinking. As the final bars of that damn song came on, Anna's little frog story played at the back of my mind. A phantom formalin smell returned to my nostrils, coating my tongue and sliding down my throat. The bride continued calmly - step, step, step, and all I could think of was the butchered frog, fat and flesh dripping off its skeleton.
I have died every day waiting for you. Is that what it means to love? To bleed yourself dry? To be peeled off layer by layer until all that's left of you is bone?
It was a hot afternoon, rare around this time of the year, and the wedding was only about to begin when Anna and I had arrived.
"Shh! Keep it down!" I hissed, "She can't know we're here."
"Helloooo, coming here was your idea, remember?"
"Yeah, but I didn't think that we'd actually catch the wedding."
"Oh come on."
"Shush! I think she's looking at us!"
A couple of meters across where we were standing, the blushing bride sat in her air-conditioned wedding car: an old, banged-up Mitsubishi adorned with paper flowers. She was craning her neck in our direction. I quickly shuffled to my left, concealing myself behind a tall plant. Anna smiled and waved her arms at her, mouthing CONGRATULATIONS!
Groaning, I tugged on her sleeve. "Stop that! We weren't invited. She might not have wanted us to know."
"If she didn't want us to know then why'd she post the wedding plans on Facebook?" Anna said as she rolled her big brown eyes.
"Ughhh just be quiet. And invisible. Please."
The bride was still looking at us, and Anna returned to waving.
"God, we don't even look like we're dressed for a wedding," I sighed, gesturing to our maong jeans and worn slippers. "Were you guys even close?"
"Nah, just friends I guess," she said, dropping her big clumsy arms down at last. "You?"
"Friends, ish. God, who would've thought she'd be the first one in our batch?"
"She's not the first to get married," Anna said.
"I mean the first to get pregnant."
"Ahhhh," she nodded. "Let's bet who comes next."
"I bet you."
"You fucker! Can you imagine me with kids?" I actually could, but it was not a pleasant thought.
At that moment, the wedding processional began. An unseen pianist began playing a soulless rendition of "A Thousand Years," as little girls with stripey pink dresses shuffled towards the altar. Among the few people in attendance, the women furiously fanned themselves in the stifling heat, and the men tugged at their collars and plucked at their polos.
"UGH," I groaned. "'A Thousand Years' is so not a romantic song."
"I don't want anything to do with Twilight at my wedding," Anna said.
"I have died every day waiting for you - Well doesn't that sound like a lovely thought."
After the flower girls came the ring bearers, and after them came some unknown young-looking people in the entourage.
Anna said, "The last time I was here, it was for my lola's wake."
"When was that?"
"September something, or was it October?"
"That recent? Christ, I'm so sorry, I didn't know."
"I'm over it now. I didn't even look at - you know, that part of the wake where they ask you to look at the dead person in the coffin? Well I didn't look. My dad says it's better that way, you know? That way you remember them as they were. Alive."
I nodded. "My aunt died a couple of weeks ago too."
She put a giant hand on my shoulder. "Did you look?"
"Yes. It was... okay. I'm okay. She looked peaceful."
"You must have gotten used to it."
"Yeah... I guess? I mean I'm used to seeing the dead bodies of strangers, but it's different when it's somebody you actually know and love."
She nodded her big, sympathetic head. "Does the smell of formalin stick to you?"
"After dissections? It probably does, but I don't notice it. Why?"
"Because back in Bio 10, we had to dissect a couple of frogs, and god the smell was so fucking bad that my mom would get headaches driving me back home."
"Oh, yes, I do get weird looks when I'm taking the jeepney back."
"Right? It makes me wanna barf. And I swear to god, one time, my stupid group members had me take out the bones, so I boiled the damn frog in my own kitchen - you know, to separate the meat from the bone - and the smell fucking stuck to every corner in my house. My mom was so mad. Even my neighbors were complaining."
"Wow, that bad, huh?"
"God, yes."
The bland piano rendition was reaching its anticipated conclusion when - "Ohmygod it's her turn!"
One of the bridesmaids opened the door to the old car, and from its ancient leatherette interiors, the blushing bride emerged. Our high school classmate, resplendent in a rented white gown, face veiled behind a thin piece of tulle. Anna and I squealed. The crowd held their breaths. I struggled to catch a glimpse of her groom, but he was obscured behind arms and hands reaching out a cellphone or tablet to snap a picture.
Slowly, she walked down the aisle, taking small, practiced steps towards the altar. So young, I kept thinking. As the final bars of that damn song came on, Anna's little frog story played at the back of my mind. A phantom formalin smell returned to my nostrils, coating my tongue and sliding down my throat. The bride continued calmly - step, step, step, and all I could think of was the butchered frog, fat and flesh dripping off its skeleton.
I have died every day waiting for you. Is that what it means to love? To bleed yourself dry? To be peeled off layer by layer until all that's left of you is bone?
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