The days, weeks and months have passed by so quickly that I can hardly believe it’s been a year. Dina is at my side often, sometimes stopping by in the evening when I get home just to watch me paint. I’ve left the house basically as is so I could save for the wedding. There was one time when I replaced the toilet instead of repairing it, but that was an emergency situation and an exception to the rule.
As the day of our wedding approached we looked for a suitable venue. There is a museum in Magnolia Promenade with a wedding hall upstairs.* We decided it would be appropriate. A part of me wanted to have the wedding in our home, as my parents did, but it doesn’t have near what would be needed for such an event. Between hall rental, catering and a mixologist money has been stretched far too thin as it is. I should probably be glad the hall lacks a piano, though a part of me is sad about that. Perhaps one day my family can donate one when times are better.
The wedding was wonderful. We stood at the arch waiting for people to gather and I feared my efforts to fill the hall had failed. People filtered up from the museum slowly, however. The guests stopped to admire two floors of amazing art first I assume. Both Danna and Alexus were invited. To my surprise they both came. I thought it a bit odd, however, that they both wore the same exact hat.
After the wedding Alexus told me she still liked me and to give her a call if it didn’t work out. I’m sure Dina and I will be very happy together. Danna sat beside me after I baked the cake, more on that later, in the room where pottery and woodworking classes take place. She was friendly, though a bit frosty. Perhaps she only said she thought of me as a friend because she was hurt by my date with Alexus? At this point it hardly matters.
Father used to often say that it was hard to find good help and mother would nod her head in easy agreement. I never understood. We seemed to have wonderful staff all the time. Now I think I might understand after all. The caterer took my money and as far as I could tell never showed up, which meant I baked the plain white cake we used as a wedding cake, and another cake to feed all the guests. Salad? I made it. All of the wedding food had to be made by my hands. I couldn’t ask Dina to cook on her wedding day. One simply doesn’t do that. Then, halfway through the celebration the mixologist took one of her drinks and sat down. She never returned to the bar.
None of that matters, the wedding was still perfect in it’s own way and Dina was unaware of the problems. Now she’s washing up for bed. Actually I believe I hear her coming towards the bedroom.
By my hand,