Bright Shiny Morning

by James Frey

  I’d rather have new ones.

  Probably best.

  Man opens a case and pulls out a black felt ring display puts it on the counter. He pulls four sets of rings places them on the glass, speaks.

  Take your pick.

  Dylan looks at them three gold one silver or platinum he can’t tell two have inscriptions in them he sets those apart the other two are blank one set is wider, with an elaborate pattern engraved, the other pair simple gold the man’s ring slightly wider than the woman’s. Dylan picks them up speaks.

  How much?

  How much you make today?

  A hundred bucks.

  Give me fifty.

  Seriously?

  Shaka’s a friend. You seem like a nice guy. Be sort of a wedding gift from me to you.

  Dylan smiles.

  Thank you.

  He takes out fifty bucks, hands it to the man. The man takes it says good luck, shakes Shaka’s hand says see you soon, Shaka and Dylan walk out of the store. As Dylan gets in the car he thanks Shaka who smiles says no problem they drive back to the course Dylan doesn’t say a word just stares at the rings plays with them, rolls them through his fingers, holds them to the light kisses them.

  They pull up it’s 6:45 business day is coming to an end the parking lot is half empty. Caddies who might normally be at home are hanging around, talking on their cells, some are wearing nicer clothing than they normally wear dress shirts, slacks, sandals, belts. Dylan asks Shaka what’s going on and Shaka smiles and says we’re having a wedding. He walks back to his office. Dylan follows asking questions, Shaka says the same thing over and over just wait and see, white boy, just wait and see. He gives Dylan the suit and a shirt and a tie and a pair of shoes says go to the locker room and shower and get ready.

  Dylan walks to the locker room, which caddies are not normally allowed to use. It’s filled with other caddies showering and putting on nice clothing. All of them shake his hand and say congratulations he’s shocked and thrilled and can’t really believe it’s happening. There are two men in the locker who are golfers and though they have no idea what’s going on they say congratulations to him as well. He takes a shower. Gets out of the shower puts on the suit it’s slightly small but fits well enough to wear. He combs his hair. He puts on the shoes he becomes more nervous with each passing minute wonders what Maddie is doing, what she’s thinking, if she knows, how she’ll react when she arrives. It’s not exactly what he expected, or thought of when he thought of their wedding, getting married at a golf course in Los Angeles with his coworkers, a bunch of black and Mexican caddies, but he’s happy about it, excited, thinks it’s another part of their adventure, something they’ll be able to talk about when they’re fifty, sixty, seventy, something their children will tell their children.

  He looks at himself in the mirror. He looks good enough the suit is sort of funny. He checks his pockets the rings are inside of the jacket. He walks out of the locker room he sees chairs being set up in two sections, with an aisle between, on the grass in front of the clubhouse. It’s 7:30 in forty-five minutes he’s getting married he wonders what Maddie is doing, how she’s feeling. He walks over offers to help with the chairs the four caddies setting them up two Mexican, one Salvadoran one black say no go to Shaka’s office and relax. He walks to Shaka’s office and knocks on the door.

  Come in.

  He opens the door, steps in, Shaka is wearing a suit, a large man, who looks like Shaka’s brother, but slightly older, is sitting in the chair across from his desk. The man, who is wearing a long black robe, stands. Shaka speaks.

  Dylan, meet my cousin Khama. Khama, this is him.

  Dylan and Khama both laugh, shake hands. Khama speaks.

  A big day for you.

  Dylan smiles.

  Yeah.

  You excited?

  Yes.

  You have anything in particular you’d like to say during the ceremony?

  No.

  What religion are you?

  I’m not, really. My parents used to go to a Baptist church, but that was so they wouldn’t feel guilty about drinking and cheating and beating each other up.

  I’m sorry.

  Nothing to be sorry about. It was what it was. My girl’s parents are the same way.

  I hope you’re going to avoid making the same mistakes.

  It’s why we left. Came here.

  It wasn’t so you could be married by a black man named after an African king?

  Dylan laughs.

  You too?

  Yes. Shaka and I and every male member of our family. We often argue about whose namesake was greater.

  Shaka speaks.

  Mine was.

  Khama speaks.

  This is a joyful occasion, so I won’t engage him.

  They laugh. Khama speaks.

  It’s okay if I just use the standard vows?

  Yes.

  The whole thing will take about five minutes. Just follow my lead. Before it starts we’ll wait for her at the end of the aisle.

  Shaka speaks.

  My wife is gonna wait for her in the parking lot and show her where to go.

  What if she freaks out?

  My wife is very good at dealing with people who freak out.

  They laugh again. Khama speaks.

  Any questions?

  Thank you for doing this.

  Is that a question?

  Dylan laughs.

  No, I just wanted to say thank you.

  My pleasure.

  Dylan looks at Shaka, speaks.

  How’d you plan this so fast?

  I just told everybody you were getting married, that we were gonna do it here. Usually when one of us gets married, everyone goes. In this case we didn’t have to go anywhere. And who doesn’t like a wedding? You can get drunk and dance and act stupid and your wife lets you do it. They laugh.

  Thank you too. For everything.

  Shaka nods.

  You’re one of my boys here. I treat my boys well.

  Thank you.

  You wanna have a quick drink before we get out there?

  Fuck yeah.

  They all laugh again, Shaka reaches into his jacket pocket pulls out a small flask of whiskey he and Shaka each take a drink Khama passes on it. They leave the office and walk back to the grass in front of the clubhouse. The sun is down it’s getting dark. The chairs are set up and most are filled, the other caddies are sitting in them with their wives and children, the aisle between them is lined with flashlights their beams shooting straight into the sky. As Dylan walks down the aisle the assembled whistle at him, say congratulations, Asshole Dan, who is there with his surprisingly attractive wife, stands and shakes his hand. He and Khama go to a small half-circle of flowers placed on the ground at the head of the area, stand in the middle of it, it’s just after 8:00.

  He stands for two minutes, three minutes five minutes seven. He rocks back and forth on his heels, fidgets with his suit, stares at the ground looks up and smiles looks back at the ground. He turns to Khama who is standing with his hands folded at his waist a small black book in one of his hands Khama nods. He looks at Shaka, who is standing at the foot of the aisle, there is a chair with a boom box on it next to him, Shaka smiles and gives Dylan a thumbs-up. Dylan looks towards the lot, he can’t see much from where he is, he can’t see the entrance or the exit, he can’t see where Maddie would naturally walk into the lot, he can’t see Shaka’s wife waiting for her. The longer he stands the more nervous he becomes, the more he wants to see Maddie, just see her, face smile walk dress he wants her near him, he waits and smiles and his fellow caddies sitting in the chairs in front of him watch him and smile at him Shaka watches him, smiles at him, even Asshole Dan is smiling at him.

  He sees her come around the corner. She looks nervous slightly confused excited, she’s smiling she sees him, he smiles lifts a hand a small wave. She shrugs he motions for her to come to him she looks around and sees the chairs, the people, Shaka pushes p
lay on the boom box she smiles and laughs and he motions for her to come to him.

  Maddie starts walking towards the aisle, she’s carrying a bouquet of flowers. Shaka’s wife, a tall thick dark-skinned woman in a pink dress, follows a couple feet behind. She turns up the aisle and Dylan can feel his hands start shaking, she’s wearing her dress, smiling, not paying attention to anything else, anyone else. Each step she’s closer their eyes are locked each step his pounding heart, shaking hands, each step he feels happier, stronger, each step there’s no one else in the world he loves. As she gets closer she walks quicker he’s not sure what to do but he wants to touch her all he wants to do is touch her. He opens his arms she runs the last few steps into them and he closes them around her. She says what is this he says our wedding she giggles he whispers in her ear I love you I love you I love you.

  The assembled laugh the wedding march doesn’t usually end this way. Dylan and Maddie stand there holding each other for a moment, two. Shaka, who followed his wife up the aisle, sits in the front row, she sits next to him. Khama clears his throat Dylan and Maddie both look towards him the assembled laugh again. They separate, Khama speaks. I usually counsel young couples before they get married to make sure they are getting married for the right reasons. What I have just seen tells me no counsel is necessary here.

  Everyone laughs a few clap. Khama looks at Maddie, speaks.

  Young lady, my name is Khama, and before we get started I’d like to introduce myself and say congratulations.

  He offers his hand she smiles and takes it and speaks.

  Nice to meet you.

  You as well.

  He looks briefly at both of them.

  Shall we get started?

  They both speak.

  Yes.

  Khama turns to the assembled welcomes them, turns back to Maddie and Dylan, who are standing facing each other, holding both of each other’s hands, he asks them if they are ready for their vows. Without looking away from each other they both say yes. Dylan goes first he repeats I Dylan take you Maddie to be your wedded husband, I promise to love comfort, honor and keep you for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, I will be faithful to you so long as we both shall live. As he does his voice cracks tears run down his cheeks Maddie squeezes his hands they look into each other. She follows him says the same vows, her voice cracks she happily cries Dylan squeezes her hands their eyes into each other. When they are finished Khama asks for the rings Dylan reaches into his coat pocket hands shaking he fumbles the rings catches them everyone laughs. He hands them to Khama, who hands one of them back to him, speaks.

  You’re going to need this.

  More laughs, Dylan smiles speaks.

  Thanks.

  Khama.

  Repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed, I give it to you as a symbol of my vows, my love and my commitment, and with all that I am, and all that I have.

  Dylan repeats, places the ring on Maddie’s finger both of their hands shake still smiling. Khama turns to Maddie, hands her the other ring. They repeat the process still shaking smiling Khama speaks. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and by the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you man and wife.

  He turns to Dylan.

  You may kiss your bride.

  Huge smiles they lean forward and their lips meet as husband and wife their lips meet and open a long deep kiss. The assembled starts clapping and whistling. They keep kissing, their arms around each other long and deep. Khama smiles, laughs, they keep going, the clapping gets louder, the whistling more frequent, they’re lost in each other found with each other holding each other, kissing each other. Shaka pushes play on the boom box wedding procession music starts playing Maddie and Dylan pull apart whisper I love you to each other turn smiling to face the assembled. They start walking hand-in-hand down the aisle, everyone stands as they pass still clapping and whistling. When they reach the end of the aisle, Shaka, and his daughter, who has been taking pictures, are waiting for them. Shaka speaks.

  Congratulations.

  They both speak.

  Thank you.

  Shaka.

  Surprised?

  Maddie laughs.

  Totally. Who are all these people?

  Dylan.

  The other caddies.

  Shaka.

  Except for me, and I used to be one, and the fat white guy, who we call Asshole Dan, he runs the place.

  Maddie laughs.

  Dylan told me about him.

  Shaka.

  And me?

  Maddie.

  If you’re Shaka, he told me about you too.

  I am, and he better have been cool, or this wedding is over.

  They laugh. Shaka speaks.

  You ready for the next part?

  Dylan.

  What’s that?

  Dancing, drinking and eating. I told you you’re gonna need some sustenance if you’re gonna perform like you should later.

  They laugh.

  Where we gonna do it?

  Right here.

  On the course?

  Right the fuck here.

  Shaka steps away, starts barking out orders, the chairs are rearranged into something resembling a circle, the disks are changed in the boom box, coolers full of beer are brought out from the clubhouse. The other caddies and their wives or girlfriends form a line, start walking up to Dylan and Maddie, congratulating them, handing them white envelopes. When the line is finished, everyone is dancing, drinking, pizzas have arrived they’re eating. Dylan and Maddie join them Dylan drinks but not too much Maddie sips at a beer, but never finishes. They separate the men make fun of Dylan, warn him about what he’s gotten himself into, the women talk to Maddie about her dress, about children, about dealing with their husbands. They have a first dance to a song they don’t know a slow, soul song when the dance ends they’re kissing again the other couples cheering and whistling again. A cake is brought out it’s white cake with white frosting from a grocery store they cut it, feed it to each other, lick it from each other’s fingers. The party lasts an hour two three most of the assembled are drunk some start stumbling some of their wives take them home some of them take their wives home. Dylan and Maddie start to get tired they find Khama thank him, find Shaka and thank him. Shaka tells Dylan to take the day off tomorrow and guard the envelopes on the way home it is tradition for all of the caddies to give their day’s tips to the groom on his wedding day. Dylan thanks Shaka again, hugs him, Maddie thanks him and his wife hugs them, they walk home hand-in-hand as man and wife. When they get home they get into bed Dylan’s nourishment serves him well, serves Maddie well, for the first second and third time as man and wife.

  Tom Bradley, an African American, is elected mayor in 1973, defeating incumbent Sam Yorty, who is white, in a campaign in which Bradley accuses Yorty of racism and Yorty questions Bradley’s ability to fight crime in his own community. Bradley becomes the first minority mayor of Los Angeles, and the second African-American mayor of a major American city.

  Old Man Joe walks back to the boardwalk as he approaches his bathroom he sees an LAPD cruiser sitting near it. He doesn’t want to deal with the police immediately so he walks to the liquor store he doesn’t have enough money for a bottle of Chablis so he buys a bottle of Thunderbird and goes behind the liquor store and starts drinking it. It’s strong and tastes like grape juice mixed with gasoline, it’s far more powerful than Chablis after four or five long draws he’s suitably buzzed to deal with the police he hides the bottle under a dumpster and walks back to the bathroom.

  The cruiser is still there, an officer is leaning against the hood, another is sitting in the driver’s seat. Neither sees him until he’s a few feet and he speaks.

  Officers?

  They both look up. The one on the hood speaks.

  Yeah?

  Are you waiting here for me?

  The one behind the driver’s seat gets out
of the car, the other speaks.

  What’s your name?

  Old Man Joe.

  The one from the driver’s seat speaks.

  Yeah, we are. You carrying anything?

  No.

  You mind if we search you?

  No.

  Joe raises his arms, they pat him down. Joe speaks.

  Am I being arrested for something?

  The one from the hood.

  Not at this point. You’re wanted for questioning.

  Did you catch them?

  Driver’s seat.

  We’re not completely sure who they are. That’s why we need you.

  Okay, let’s go.

  Driver’s seat opens the rear door Joe gets inside there’s a cage in front of him door closes there are no handles on the inside of it. The police get into the front seats, start the car, pull away. The drive to the station takes fifteen minutes it’s six or seven miles through Venice, Mar Vista, Culver City, Joe can’t remember the last time he was this far away from the ocean. He stares out the window the streets are crowded with cars the sidewalks are empty not a person to be seen. They pass mini-malls, fast-food restaurants, three- and four-story apartment buildings, gas stations, discount stores. They drive under a highway it looks like a parking lot. The sun is high and hot everything’s bright the signs the storefront windows with reflective glass the cars trucks the concrete the buildings painted bright colors faded into depression. They drive and he stares and no one says a word.

  They pull up park behind the station the officers let him out. Though he hasn’t been arrested it feels like he has they walk him into the station stand on either side of him they’re close to prevent him from walking away, making any sort of quick movement. They put him in a room beige walls a table and three chairs a one-way mirrored window, they tell him someone will be in to see him. When they leave he tries the door, even though he’s not under arrest, is locked.

  He sits and waits stares at the wall cleans his fingernails picks at them a bit. The T-bird starts to wear off a headache starts to replace the buzz, he wants more, he wants water, he wants coffee, he wants aspirin, something. He stares at the wall picks his nose rubs the results on the bottom of the table, he sits and waits. The walls are beige. He’s hungry he wants something to eat.