After the wedding, my wife met me in the parking lot of the church. She was wearing a peach colored bridesmaids dress.
"That was a decent ceremony," I said.
"A little long." She smiled.
"Will you be riding with me?"
"Actually, we have to take more pictures. And I guess the bride wants to make some stops." She rolled her brown eyes.
"I'll just go back to the room then."
"No," she said. "You shouldn't."
"I'm not going to sit around the ballroom and wait for the tables to fill up."
My wife scanned the parking lot with her eyes. It was a hot day. Men in suits, women in floral print dresses were grouped and chatting. A summer wedding. "There," she said. She pointed.
"Its not polite to point," I said.
"Give it a rest," she said. "There's my friend Dara."
"Dara, Dara?"
"We had dinner with her like two months ago."
"Oh, Dara."
"I think she's meeting some of the bride's college friends for drinks. You should join her."
"That might be awkward."
My wife waved and caught Dara's eye. Dara started walking over. She was wearing a skirt, blouse. She had shoulder length brown hair.
"Quite the ceremony," Dara said. She took another step and then we were standing in a triangle. My wife and Dara told each other they looked good.
"Dara, Mike doesn't have anything to do."
"I don't have any friends," I said.
"At least you're coming to terms with it," my wife said.
"Mike, why don't you join me?" Dara said.
"I'm tired really. I could use a nap."
"Come on," Dara said. "We're going to a bar. Some friends. Its going to be a great time. Weddings are so fun." Dara said this and a little sarcasm crept into her voice.
"Why don't you go, Mike?" My wife said.
"Yeah," Dara said. "I'll even drive."
"Well."
"Great," my wife said. "Its two now. The reception starts at five. I'll see you both there."
"I guess," I said.
Dara smiled and said good-bye to my wife. I gave my wife a pained looked, and followed Dara to her car.
Dara was driving and I was riding. I watched out the window, and looking over at her on occasion to make small talk. Her skirt went to the edge of the driver's seat, and after that was milky smooth, toned leg down to her black high heels.
'Where are we going?" I asked.
"Just this little place. Something quiet. I'm sure we'll get plenty of noise later on."
"No doubt." Out the window were typical suburban homes in various shades of white and blue. The grass was green, the trees were full with leaves. The traffic was light. We turned off a four-lane street, slowing down and rolling through a residential neighborhood.
Dara and I talked. We covered jobs, a little sports, and eventually my married life. I was happy, I told her.
"Good," she said. "Mary's really nice."
"Yeah, I got lucky."
Dara turned left and told me we were almost there.
"I didn't know you looked so good in a suit," she said.
"Mary picked it out."
"She's got good taste."
There was silence, and I could see up ahead the parking lot we were about to turn into. Dara flipped on her blinker. The car was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Tension.
Dara parked the car and looked around the lot. We walked into the bar. The bartender had his back to the door, was watching golf on a television over the bar.