A Church Wedding
Allen McGill
Gerry arrived late from the airport, but managed to find space at the end of the third pew of St. Bartholomew's RC church. He had hoped to meet his cousin's fiancé before the ceremony, but the flight had been delayed.
He finally got a look at the tall, handsome groom as he, the almost-as-good-looking best man and the ushers entered from the sacristy. They approached the center of the altar rail where the priest had just arrived to greet them.
Well, son of a bitch! Gerry thought, catching his breath. Him! He couldn't believe it! Could he pick 'em! Of all the churches, in all the States, why...? Well this really takes the cake!
The wedding march began, but Gerry couldn't concentrate on anything but the images that came to his mind of his recent trip to Puerto Vallarta. The sun, the bars, the hunky guys on the beach and the stud he'd snagged for nightly, hot, uninhibited sex the day after he'd arrived.
There were no silly promises of everlasting love, of course, but the steamy e-mails they'd exchanged in the course of the following month led Gerry to believe that the flame might be re-ignited at some later date.
Vivid flashes came to him of heightened moments in their lovemaking, the chaise on the patio by candlelight, the sandy lubricant on the beach. He felt a definite warmth infuse his thoughts and his collar that had nothing to do with the temperature in the church. The pressure at the crotch of his trousers was creating a most pleasurable sensation.
He wondered what his cousin would think if she knew. Gerry would never tell her, of course, but he had to chuckle inwardly. Slowly, he undressed his re-found paramour in his mind, as his cousin moved to stand close, a vision in virginal white.
A quick guffaw broke forth from him as he envisioned the well-endowed, hairy-chested macho standing buck-naked at the altar rail in front of all these people. His eruption of laughter caused a number of people to turn and frown, so he fought to keep from sniggering out loud.
The only way to avoid further outbursts was for Gerry to keep from watching the nuptials. While chewing the inside of his cheek, he looked at the ceiling, the stained glass windows, his hands, the crucifix—anywhere but at the altar rail.
Finally, the seemingly endless ceremony was over and the happy couple began their life together with a long walk up the center aisle to the tune of 'Here Comes The Bride.' Lace handkerchiefs were brought forth; oohs and aahs were voiced as they passed. Then the congregation followed the couple on their journey through the massive doors to the street, where the receiving line was staged.
Gerry took his time, suppressing the urge to giggle as he brought up the rear, but eventually stepped into the sunlight. He embraced his cousin, shook hands with the groom and, to the priest, said: "Hello, Father Dick, remember me?"
Allen McGill lives, writes, acts and directs theatre in Mexico. His published fiction, non-fiction, poetry, plays, photos, etc., have won awards and appeared in: NY Times, The Writer, Newsday, Literary Potpourri, Poetry Midwest, QLRS, Herons Nest, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, World Haiku Review, many others. He is a former member of PEN. He was an invited guest at the First World Poetry Festival in Taiwan 2005, haibun editor for Simply Haiku, and two of his plays have been professionally produced in Sacramento and L.A. His first book—SUNSEEKERS, a selection of haiku and haibun by Allen McGill—is being published this Fall by Golden Swamp Warbler Press.