Suicide Notes From A Wedding

by Joaquin Emiliano

  no arguments there.

  our shoes crunched along the gravel, and we went from light to darkness. it was a quiet affair. restaurant with muted colors, oaken booths, and a horseshoe bar at the far end.

  our bartender was a pleasant, pear-shaped teenager. brown hair, glowing face. mustard stain on her shirt. she asked what our pleasure was.

  i ordered a gin and tonic.

  Milo and Laura did the same.

  as they perused the menu, i helped myself to the surroundings. stout, multicolored Christmas lights hung from the walls. 3 flat screen TV’s shone from above. Country Music Television turned way up; Willie Nelson happily drowning out the Golf Channel and Fox pundits. from beyond the kitchen window, i caught a line cook sending a text.

  our drinks arrived. we asked the bartender for another 5 minutes.

  Laura nudged Milo. “what are you thinking, babe?”

  “call me a crazy asshole, but i’m really thinking Reuben right now.”

  “yeah, there’s a southwestern wrap that’s kind of trying to have sex with me.”

  “i saw that. it looks pretty fucking good.”

  “you getting fries?”

  “don’t know. i’m particular about fries…”

  i hunched over my menu. trying to filter out the easy banter of solid coupling. made myself invisible. squeezed a little lime, took a sip of juniper and quinine.

  Laura leaned across the bar. “Lucky? what are you thinking?”

  i hemmed. “when did everything become bacon?”

  “you still doing that vegetarian thing?” Milo asked.

  “i’m a 34-year-old alcoholic. kale, blueberries and exercise are the only things holding this piece of shit body together.”

  “no meat at all?” Laura asked.

  “no such thing as true commitment,” i said. “someone serves me an unsolicited meal, i eat what i’m lucky enough to have been given. and once a year, i help myself to a steak. and i mean, a real earth-shattering orgasm of a steak. medium-rare.”

  “why’s that?”

  “to remind myself that i am just another hypocrite, and my dedication is in no way, shape or form a reflection of character… besides, from what i know of the scriptures, there will be plenty of meat in hell.”

  i glanced up. our bartender was standing before us. had probably been for quite some time. eyes hesitant, mouth in mid-offering. pen hovering just above her notepad.

  “i will have the fruit salad,” i told her, handing over my menu. “hold the bacon.”

  Milo and Laura proceeded to order something they actually wanted.

  ***

  my life had certainly become less interesting over the years. couldn’t speak on behalf of Milo, and Laura was a fresh face in my gradually contracting world. whatever the reason, i found the massive gaps in our conversation to be draining. a pause became a stretch.

  became a vortex.

  i played with my straw, ordered another drink.

  maybe we were all just tired this time.

  our food arrived along with 3 waters.

  “i’m glad we got a chance to do this,” Milo said between shreds of pastrami and sauerkraut. “from what you’ve told us, the whole thing’s been kind of a whirlwind. nonstop.”

  “guess that’s the cardinal rule for weddings. location, location, location.”

  “that’s real estate.”

  “for real?”

  “estate.”

  Laura plunged into her 2nd gin and tonic. “i’m actually really looking forward to the wedding. i like weddings.”

  “me too,” i said. “it’s the marriage what fucks it all up.”

  Milo smiled, held up a fry. “i can see your speech at the banquet is going to be a real barn-burner.”

  “that conversation already happened. and despite the fact that I know more divorced people my age than married people, this don’t apply to Nicky.”

  “how you figure?”

  “Nicky is Mr. Family. when we were kids, if he couldn’t come out because of some prior with his parents, his brother… he never bitched. as many times as all of us, at one point or another, had to say, i can’t, i’m doing something with my family… he never sounded annoyed. bothered. i don’t think he ever once rolled his eyes the way the rest of us would. it was never a sacrifice for him. Nicky has thought about this, i really think he has. i think he believes in it. i think Republicans in the early ‘90s are, at this very moment, building a time machine to bring him back to help wage war on behalf of family values…” i raised my glass. “let there be no mistake, though… i’m sure they’d very much regret it once they actually met him.” went ahead and downed my drink. “but then again, most of us already do…”

  Laura raised her own glass. “now that’s the speech you give at a wedding.”

  “yes. just not this one.”

  “is they?” Milo asked.

  “huh…?” i blinked through a sour patch of lime. “what’s wrong with you?”

  “um…” the bartender was once again trapped in our gravitational pull. “you all want this check together?”

  Milo nodded.

  I dug into my pocket. “did i tell you i’m moving to New Orleans?”

  “no,” Milo said.

  “no,” Laura said.

  “i'm moving to New Orleans.”

  “why?”

  “seems like a good a place as any to die.”

  “when?” Milo asked.

  “on my birthday.”

  “so you’re not moving until February 16th?”

  “oh…” i bit down on my straw. “thought we were talking about something else. no. far as moving goes…thinking late September.”

  “September, all over again,” Milo mused. “but, for real, why now?”

  “you know what happened back in ‘05.”

  Laura leaned forward. “what happened back in ‘05?”

  the check arrived. “long story.”

  Laura shrugged. “i’m going to get you to dance, Lucky.”

  “that’s an even longer story.”

  Milo crunched the numbers. “i got this.”

  i pulled out a 10-spot. “here.”

  “no.”

  “take the money, asshole.”

  “what am i going to do with it?”

  “what am i going to do with it?” i slurped on the remaining ice cubes. “you can’t take it with you.”

  Milo gave me a look. snatched the money with an angry snap of his wrist. “no i don’t suppose you can.” he signed for the meal. “we’re not done.”

  “no, i don’t suppose we ever are…”

  Laura watched us with guarded curiosity. kept it to herself.

  a master black belt.

  ***

  while Laura busied herself in the bathroom, Milo and i leaned against the car.

  he pulled out his phone and checked his email.

  i pulled out my smokes and had myself a drag.

  the world had gone gray in our absence.

  “how’s the book going?” Milo asked.

  “i’m a millionaire,” i told him. “didn’t want to bring it up, this being Nicky’s day and all.”

  “yeah, well. you go it alone, you take your chances.”

  i nodded. watched a truck rumble past.

  “you seem different,” Milo said.

  “we all are.”

  “no. you’re up to something.”

  “i’m up to my eyeballs in shit.”

  “what are you going to do in New Orleans?”

  “remember Melody?”

  she must have been buried deep. took Milo a full minute, before: “real skinny? metal shit in her snout?”

  “septum piercing, yeah.”

  “yeah. junior year, right?”

  “sophomore year.”

  “you’d know better than me.”

  “i do.”

  “what about her?”

  i took a drag. grimaced as my mouth went dry. felt the empty r
oad tender a little time, grow wider. pine trees sharp against a featureless sky.

  “i think i may be in hell.”

  “how so?”

  “remember Bobby?”

  “Bobby who?”

  Laura came skipping out to meet us, beautiful smile making up for lost minutes.

  “another time,” i said.

  Milo rolled his eyes. “yeah. we got lots of those left.”

  Laura planted a long, luxurious kiss on Milo’s lips.

  whatever it was we all had left, Milo had all that he needed.

  i slid into the driver’s seat.

  ***

  Korben was standing proud upon the deck, far above it all. enjoying a cigarette pilfered from my bookbag.

  not a particularly spectacular reunion for this trio of New York mainstays.

  “from what i understand,” Laura said, “or think i understand, there was some kind of People’s Olympics?”

  “yeah.” Korben took a triumphant drag. “North Carolina killed it.”

  Milo grinned. “hell, yeah, they did.” he gave Korben’s shoulder a smack and went inside along with his lady.

  “you shoulda been there,” Korben told me.

  “had to see a house about a bag,” i said. “as for the here and now, i’ve got to meet Nicky at 3:30.”

  “oh… you didn’t check your phone?”

  “no. left it in the house. where it belongs.”

  “yeah, there was a change of plans –”

  “goddammit!”

  “Chet said that Nicky said you’d say that.”

  “well, tell Chet to tell Nicky that i said –”

  “Chet’s already gone.”

  “gone where?”

  Korben finished his smoke. “groomsmen are meeting at the lodge at 3.”

  i bolted into the house. swung through the kitchen, dining room. gunning for the stairs.

  i tripped over my bookbag. torpedoed my knee directly into the 2nd step.

  florescent pain spiraled along my leg.

  Laura asked if i was OK.

  Milo laughed at me.

  a hanging portrait of General Lee didn’t seem to have an opinion on the matter.

  never one to learn my lesson, i went careening up the steps.

  tripped again.

  slammed my other knee against the landing, hand against the wall, and my pride against the jarring sounds of Milo’s laughter.

  and this time, Laura couldn’t be blamed for joining in.

  ***

  5 minutes to shower.

  5 more for fresh digs. jeans and a navy shirt reading I HAVE CANDY in ominous, pink caps.

  i ran back down the stairs. subconsciously hoping to finish the job, maybe.

  backed out of the driveway.

  wasn’t more than 20 yards down the road, when i spotted Chester’s car headed my way. i slowed, pulled to the shoulder. rolled down the window.

  Chester did the same. Nick Reckless in the front seat. James Reckless in the back, along with the brother of the bride, and a pair of strangers.

  “Lucky!” Nick called out cheerfully.

  “hey,” i replied. “was on my way to meet a bunch of weird assholes for a 3:30 rendezvous, taking place at 3 o’clock… those assholes look a lot like you assholes.”

  Chester sighed. “looks like Milo made it in all right.”

  “everyone’s coming here to change for the photographer,” Nick said.

  “really.”

  “yes.”

  “honest?”

  “you want it in writing?’

  “i’d put it in writing myself, but if i did, none of my friends would read it.”

  “fuck you, Lucky,” Chester said. rolled up his window and eased his rental into the driveway.

  i remained on the shoulder. engine idling. knees throbbing. watched a family of ducks waddle by.

  “well, i thought it was funny,” i told them.

  let a couple of minutes pass to make certain that Nick wasn’t looking to make god laugh one last time…

  went on back to get my picture taken.

  ***

  i had just slid into the lower half of my tuxedo, when the nausea hit, coupled with violent shakes.

  i coughed. retched. took a few breaths, leaned against the wall. with the initial headache out of the way, phase 2 of my hangover began to spread. bloodstream infused with only trace amounts of alcohol, racing, begging for more.

  those G&T’s hadn’t quite done the trick.

  it was either wait and dry heave my way through the ceremony, or take immediate steps to balance the equation.

  i eased on down the steps, tucking my undershirt as i went.

  the living room had become backstage to an off-Broadway production. men slipping into their formalwear. women floating across the color spectrum in slips, dresses; testing their earrings and digging through makeup kits.

  i breezed past Nick. he gave me a nervous grin. i replied with a spastic, inconsistent smile.

  yanked the Goose from the freezer. double shot into a highball glass. filled it up to 4/5 with water. on my way to the living room, when Nick got hold of me.

  “Lucky, can you help me out?” his eyes were wide. overwhelmed shades against the contours of a calm and capable face.

  “whatever you need,” i said.

  he handed me a set of cuff links. “can you make these work? i can’t quite figure out how these work.”

  i set my vodka down.

  Nick held out his arm. i wrapped my fingers around his wrist. took a breath. looking to match the holes in his cuffs. muddled around with the tiny clips. my hands were shaking. so were his.

  difference was, one of us was about to step soundly into the rest of his life.

  i looked up. smiled reassuringly. “real smart, Nicky. nervous groom gets the lush to perform tuxedo surgery.”

  Nick laughed. “that is pretty stupid of me.”

  i flashed back to my high school graduation. heading home after the party. Chloe was driving. something was said. maybe inferred. maybe it was the first time it hit Nicky that i was going away, off to New York. he rolled down the window, face twisted, howling miserably. doing whatever he could to get the moon’s attention. lashing out against the tides, winds, and the slow countdown to what was in store for all of us.

  there was once a time when that had mattered.

  even if it was all illusion, and even if the sun had set far too many times to count.

  “you good?” i asked.

  “yeah.”

  “i know. everyone here knows it, too.”

  “hm.”

  “you’ll think me a liar, but this is exactly what i thought i’d be doing 16 years out of high school.”

  “liar.”

  “yeah…” i fastened the first of the oversized, golden thumbtacks. “you look aces, Nicky.’

  “thanks.”

  “you look like a man who’s ready.”

  Korben, who had been reading a travel brochure at the dining room table, coughed politely. “you’re doing that wrong, Lucky.”

  “say what?”

  “that’s not how you fasten cuffs. you have to press the insides of both buttonholes to meet each other.”

  i closed my eyes with a pained sigh… “i don’t even understand what that - goddammit…” i motioned for Korben to get up. “take care of this, would you? i’m going to step over there, see if i can’t fuck something else up.”

  i gave Nick’s ass a light smack, and moved to the living room.

  dug into my bookbag. pulled out a packet of Emergen-C. tore it open and shook the pink powder into my glass. stirred with my finger. watched the liquid turn the color of dead flamingos.

  “watcha got there, sailor?” Milo asked from the couch. checking Wikipedia. utterly at home in his tux.

  “Emergen-C and vodka.”

  Laura snapped a picture with her phone. “that’s brilliant.”

  “had to happen sometime.” i leveled t
he cloudy solution in 3 large gulps. “there. that should keep the angels away.”

  Chester breezed through the room, adjusting his bowtie. “should we do some shots, Lucky? can we do some shots? of your vodka?”

  “always,” i said, heading up the stairs. “set `em up, set `em up, and we’ll knock `em on down.”

  i took the steps with a light trot. blood bubbling along, and the shakes were gone.

  for the moment.

  ***

  i buttoned my jacket and took a long look in the mirror.

  god help me, i liked what i saw.

  “well, we’re going to work on that,” i told my reflection. “so don’t get too comfortable.”

  adjusted my tie and headed back downstairs.

  ***

  i was greeted with trivia.

  as Chester set up a series of antique shot glasses from what was once a locked china cabinet, Milo nudged Korben and waved. “hey, Lucky!” he double checked his iPhone. “did you know that Robert Guillaume was in Saved by the Bell?”

  “technically, Saved by the Bell: The College Years,” i said. “he played Zack’s ethics professor. let a fake answer key for the midterm fall out of his satchel, and all the main characters naturally, had to decide whether or not to cheat, and then it turns out that test of character was the ethics midterm, and, oh, shit, this is why i can’t remember how to multiply fractions…”

  Chester had already filled 15 or so glasses to capacity. “can we drink now?”

  i helped with distribution. the motorcade’s hectic engine had shut down, replaced with an unforeseen silence. i handed drinks to a few newcomers. saved the introductions. stood back, and let the circle form. the rhythmic click of a ceiling fan gave us the count.

  under no other conditions would any of these individuals have found themselves together under one roof.

  i raised my glass. “to Nicky and Kayla.”

  seconded by all.

  down went the goose, and i swallowed mine with a lazy smile on my face.

  ***

  the groom’s bench had finally come together.

  James Reckless. Chester Springs. myself. Kayla’s colossal little brother, Brian Dumas. Zhang and Brennan.

  Chester already knew Zhang and Brennan from the bachelor party some 2 weeks previous. up in New York City. i had been unable to gather the scratch to attend, and was given a hasty overture.

  all i knew about the pair was that they had met Nick in China. what the circumstances might have been was a mystery. probably not too difficult to imagine, though. people didn’t meet Nick; they collided with him. every so often, origins were best left back where they belonged.