Matrimony

Do you think she wants a wedding by the water? Most of my friends will wed that way. One or two this year at least. I wonder if they’ll pick that stretch near the thousand steps. The ones I built into my runs after school some days. They felt like a form of beautiful torture. I couldn’t stay away. Small rocks at the top to track my laps. Perhaps I’ll be in a dress I choose this time. Remember the one from three Septembers ago? Or was it four? Long and navy and nearly grazing the lawn. I called you in tears from the parking lot. Something about getting it hemmed and putting it off and there not being enough time. I stood outside my car next to the expired meter. Searching through my trunk for the receipt to the matching shoes. I had put off trying them on out of protest. They were silver and strappy and nothing I’d choose. That painful in between heel. You picked up and heard me out though it had been months. Reciting my tiny problems through the phone like an unappealing poem. Something in the sound of your voice brought me back down. Stories about school and moving and the book you’d sent me and how nice it would be once we were both back east. You said I could stay with you if I needed to. If I wanted to. You weren’t sure which one it was either.