Finally, here comes the bride. I didn’t know they wore
white, too. Looks funny against her… brown. Why don’t they call them ‘brown’?
You should call a thing what it is.
Think better thoughts, man. Think warm thoughts; look like
you’re thinking warm thoughts. Look at Jasper; look how he’s looking. Okay,
less lust than he’s got. What a perv. You can ogle her later tonight, dude. Her
parents’ are in the front row.
Front row left. Front row right are Jasper’s. White on
right, or, I guess kind of beige. His dad is kind of turnip-colored now. Souse.
Why are my guts churning? Why does this feel wrong? Jasper’s
so happy he’s rocking on his heels. The perv looks horny as hell, which is as
close to happy as he gets without pot in hand and baseball on TV. He isn’t
wrong. My guts are wrong. Look at her.
Am I wrong?
Rainbows. When we were really little and I drew rainbows,
I’d have all the colors in their own bars. Nobody said that was wrong. I’d look
out and see a real rainbow and all the colors would mix into each other, and I
go, “Oh yeah, that’s what it is.” But the next time I got out my Crayolas, damned
if I didn’t scribble all the colors in their own lines. That wasn’t wrong.
Everybody draws rainbows like I did, except sometimes I forgot orange.
That’s just how people work. Jasper knows this. Akeelah knows
this. You jump rope during Gym, and you draw rainbows during Art, and then you put
all your papers together in a binder. You have a sock drawer, and a shirt
drawer, and a pants drawer. If the economy isn’t crapping on you, you have a
bed room and a kitchen. You put kitchen things in the kitchen, and bed things
in the bed room, and socks in the sock drawer. Akeelah didn’t get that dress
from a pile of crayons and used books. She bought it off a rack of dresses at a
store that sells dresses, because that’s how order works. Wish she’d bought a
looser one.
Okay, smile. Smile. Yes, smile for Akeelah like you don’t
think this is weird. A little nod. Let Jasper make the big gesture. Don’t make
it seem weird that she’s not wearing a veil at a freaking wedding.
Think of sports. Think of all the players in all the teams
in all the cities in all the divisions in all the conferences in all the
leagues in all the world. Number 67 from the Red Sox can’t just join the White
Sox because he feels like it, or because he loves the shortstop. They’d holler
at him, just like my mom would have hollered at me if I tied a red sock and a
white sock and called them a pair. People have sock drawers for a reason.
Is the room dizzy?
I am not going to pass out. No, I am not. Jasper will never
forgive me. Okay, he’ll forgive me a minute later, but he’ll never let me live
it down. If I pass out on top of the groom, or worse, fall onto Akeelah’s side.
Onto the black side. The brown side of the wedding. Then I’ll be the one
messing up the order of all things, and Jasper will never stop making fun of
me.
Jasper! Stop eye-banging her like that. She’s a person, not
a pair of floating mams.
She’s a person. He’s a person. They want to be together.
Isn’t like I’m going to scream, “Rainbows!” when the pastor asks for us to
speak now or never yadda-yadda. I know I’m wrong.
Do I know I’m wrong? My guts know one thing: sock drawers,
baseball, Gym class and English. Separating things is the way. It’s human
nature. Can I go against it? Is that possible? I mean, if I know that what I
know is wrong, then don’t I also know another thing that is right, and isn’t that
also in me? Am I right and wrong, stowed away in the same brain drawer?
I mean, I don’t have to marry her. I don’t even have to
touch her. Jasper will take the ring and then he’ll touch her. They’ll handle
all the touching themselves. God, she looks so happy.
I will not pass out. I will not pass out.
Say your vows already! I need to sit down. About now, I need
a bottle of Grey Goose and the head off of that ice sculpture.
Not that ice sculpture heads go in drinks. Cripes, she’s
getting to me.
They’re not even listening to this priest. He probably cost
a lot of money, and all you’re doing is salivating. Jasper, your mom is
watching. Your bride is watching. And Akeelah, you, you…
Man, she is watching. Has she been looking in his eyes like
that this whole time? Why isn’t she mad at him? Don’t they get mad? How can you
not be mad at such an obvious perverted fuck? I mean, he is my friend, but he
wouldn’t be if he stared like that. I even want to slap him, and I’m not on her
side. I mean, the best man is never on the bride’s side, but that’s only… fuck
it.
Did she wink at me? Is she happy I’m here? Lady, you would
not be winking if you could hear my thoughts. Unless you can hear them. In
which case… I mean, why didn’t you wear a veil? Also, is his horniness funny to
you, or do you actually love him? Because I don’t know if I can handle this. I’m
really sorry if I pass out at your wedding. You look very nice, as Jasper is
making obvious. I think I wouldn’t mind red and white socks going together if
they looked as happy for it as you do.
God, please make them say their vows already so I can get
drunk.
