[Author’s Note: Originally written August 2015]
INT. CHURCH – SIDE ROOM. DAY
A bride, TEGAN, stands in front of a full-length mirror looking herself over in her bridal gown. She lets out an exasperated sigh.
This is it. The big day that everybody dreams of.
She walks to a chair in the room and sits.
That’s what people say anyway. Do I really want this? God, I sound like such a fucking cliché. A bride having doubts on her wedding day.
She reaches into her nearby bag and pulls out a joint. She lights it and starts smoking.
Smoking in a church? I can only imagine what my old pastor would say.
She looks upward.
I know you’re up there you judgmental fucker. I’m sorry old guy. It’s the stress talking, thought the joint would calm me down. Guess not.
She stands and extinguishes the joint on a nearby ashtray and throws the joint out the window. She returns to the mirror. She imitates her mother’s face.
’You’re not going to be young forever Tegan’. ’I want grandchildren before I turn 70’.
The imitation comes easy.
There was a time, mother, when you worried you would have grandchildren far too early. Alex, Jim, Will, you worried about those boys. But the weedy Timothy Banner is the one who prevailed for my heart. Safe, predictable Tim.
She begins to hum the opening of ’The Sound of Silence’ by Simon and Garfunkel. She looks at the window. She opens it wide and tests if she could fit through. She could, easily.
Wonder if they design them wide on purpose for potential runaway brides.
She walks away from the window and begins pacing.
I could always make a pro-con list. Pros: Tim’s dependable. Con: Tim’s slightly boring. Pro: The sex is great. Con: I can’t smoke around Tim. Pro: Tim’s safe. Con: Tim’s safe.
Suddenly, the sounds of the wedding march begin.
Well, time’s up.
The door opens as the wedding march continues.