Copyright © 1998 by PJ
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA: MAY, 1985
Above the western horizon the sun assumed a middling angle, providing the meadow a fitful warmth and light. Relentlessly, a gentle southwest wind nudged monstrous gray and white clouds that periled the blueness of the sky. The wedding guests chose seats among the painted white chairs, about two hundred, placed before the small white gazebo. Between the gazebo and the sun a stringed quartet tuned instruments; their music would catch the light and their backs be to the sun. When a cloud obscured the sun, some women, who were already seated, covered their shoulders with whatever wraps they had fortuitously brought. But many had worn only sheer frocks. A few shivered and looked up to mark the progress of the clouds.
Because her friends chose to walk to the meadow instead of taking the tram provided the wedding guests, Sarah had walked with them. She found her new shoes comfortable and inwardly rejoiced; she looked forward to dancing at the party which all of them would attend after the ceremony. And she was glad she'd worn her new spring coat, off white and with buttons to her throat. She'd lived in Southern California for thirty years and never knew what to expect. A single woman, she followed her coupled friends to the chairs they wanted only two rows behind the stringed quartet. Before sitting down, Sarah asked, "Aren't we on the wrong side? Don't the brides' friends sit over here?"
A young woman in pale blue admonished her, "It doesn't matter."
Then the sun came out again, and the musicians began to play. They would not play, Sarah surmised, "Because" or "I Love You Truly." That didn't matter either. Nor would the players do "O Promise Me." Thank God, she wouldn't have to listen to "O Promise Me."