Never Enough

By: Taryn Steele

MY HEART IS STINGING. My chest is constricted. I can feel tears burning at the back of my eyes. I silently pray to myself while the words replay in my head. “Does anyone hear object?” I keep my face forward while I know everyone else’s eyes are on Marcie. Father Fuller quickly continues with the ceremony while I let out an exasperated breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Everyone please kneel to pray,” Father Fuller says.

Jameson and I are at the front of the altar, kneeling at our own miniature pew. A twinge of stimulation rolls through me, and I can’t help but share it with Jameson. I faintly turn my head to the right and whisper in his ear, “I’m horny.”

I know it’s completely inappropriate to say in church but I couldn’t help it. It was true, and I felt like I needed to lighten the very serious mood in the church. Jameson bows his head even further down and tries to mask his chuckle; all the while he whispers to me “I love you so much for that.”

I can see Lily looking at me with confusion out of the corner of my eye trying to figure out what the hell is going on between me and Jameson.

After we exchange our vows and rings, we finally get to that moment. The big kiss moment that I’ve been thinking about throughout the entire engagement. I want it to be perfect. I will be looking at these pictures of this moment from for the rest of my life.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Jameson Michaels. You may kiss the bride.”

We turn to each other and smile. I step up on my tippy toes, wrap my arms around Jameson’s neck and plant a big wet kiss on his lips. We linger there for only a moment, not wanting to make it look like we’re about to perform a pornographic movie in church, in front of friends and family.

We step down from the platform and walk hand in hand as husband and wife down the aisle to the front of the church. As we reach the front we turn to see the rest of our wedding party closely behind us smiling from ear to ear. Each and every one of them greets us with big smiles, warm hugs and congratulatory words.

Attempting to remember what part was to come next in this whole wedding process we form in a line for the guests to congratulate us as they exit the church. Every hug I get pulls at my veil. I can feel it falling out and I’m starting to panic. I see my hairdresser in the line and the panic lessens. I know she’ll fix it for me. Everyone in my family congratulates me and tells me how much they love Jameson. The one thing that is consistently being told to me from everyone else is the words “Good luck with Marcie.” Not congratulations, not it was a beautiful ceremony, not I love your dress – just good luck with Marcie. I heard it from her sisters, her nieces, nephews, brother-in-law, and even her parents. You name it, they said it.

I tried to put it out of my head as quickly as possible. This wasn’t the day to dwell on such a negative thing. I know it will come back to haunt me somehow or someway in the future.

When we are done with the receiving line the photographer calls us all back in to the church for formal pictures. As much as I like to say I’m not the typical bride when it comes to pictures I’ve always wanted them inside my childhood church. Even more than that, I wanted them outside in the back of the church by their white gazebo. The enormous, bright green grass surrounded by tall maple trees, with a stark white round gazebo planted right in the middle. I used to run around on it when I was a child after catechism class on Saturdays. I took formal pictures by it when I was the flower girl in my Aunt Chrissy’s wedding when I was just eight years old.

We are anxious to be on our way to the reception. The photographer finally tells us we are done at the church. We have two limos ready to take off. I’m anxious to get my new husband alone in one of them. Unfortunately our ring bearer and flower girl have other plans and are already sitting in our limo. Jameson and I smile at each other and let them ride with us. They were absolutely perfect little kids through the entire wedding ceremony. How could we turn them away? Ten minutes in to the thirty minute drive to the reception hall Rory is all over Julian. The poor boy just wants to play on his Game-Boy and Rory wants to hold his hand, kiss his cheek, anything to get his attention. I can’t help but laugh at the interaction.