Final Vinyl Days Read Online Free

glassy-eyed haze would never wear off, that they could just step out into the bright June day and walk off into a perfect world. “You know, I meant Donna Reed as she was on TV, of course, with the Jell-O and meatloaf, you know. Donna in real life was really cool, protested Vietnam, thought women were capable of a hell of a lot more than that show made it look like, you know? Donna was okay.”
    There was a lot of activity outside, and they stood and looked out the window just in time to see the groom lifted and hurled into the pool, a herd of children in bright suits and water wings scattering so as not to be hit by the big drunk man and all of his tuxedo-clad groomsmen and twobridesmaids who followed. Eve said that the local rental place was used to this. She had been surprised when attending weddings in Atlanta that every groom didn’t
always
get thrown in the pool. It was a ritual around here, had been forever.
    â€œAre we being antisocial?” Eve asked as the groom stood by the pool wringing out his coat. He pulled wet money from his pocket and fanned it in the air. It seemed most of the people had gone outside to watch. The singer had packed up his keyboard and was getting some food from the sparse table. They had missed the cutting of the cake, and now the little plastic bride and groom along with two doves and a big silver heart perched on the upper tier reigning over a messy, half-eaten cake.
    â€œOh,” he said and let his other arm drop around her waist, the light pink fabric cool and slick. “Are there other people here?”
    It took forever for the bride and groom to come out for the big farewell. Many people had already left the reception. Supposedly, all the bridesmaids were going to help the bride get dressed, but Eve said that she thought they could do without her. The result was lots of people whispering “Where is Eve? Where is Eve?” so that someone else could say “Oh, of course, with Adam.”
    By now the biblical humor had been reduced to a lotof snake jokes. The mothers and grandmothers and aunts were tired and flat, eyes dulled by the champagne they had pretended not to drink. Missy’s parents wept openly as she turned and whirled her bouquet, which was caught by a middle-aged man in a bright yellow suit. Adam confessed this was unfamiliar to him, these men in fluorescent colors, that they should be required by law to pass out sunglasses.
    Everyone cheered when the car drove away, and women pretended not to see where someone had written
get some
in shaving cream.
    One of the grandmothers pointed out to all the guests the delightful message “Come again and again.” Adam and Eve both said good-byes to the remaining people they knew, both complimented Missy’s parents on the lovely wedding. And then they were left there, in the parking lot of the country club with the heat weighing down oppressively. Eve was swinging her shoes by her side, her other hand still clinging to his. “Well,” he finally said and looked off into the pine trees surrounding the tennis courts. “Would you like to go get something to drink? Eat?”
    On the ride to the Ramada Inn he regretfully had to let go of her hand to shift gears. She talked in great bursts of speed, much information delivered, such as that shewould have to go back and get her car, her parents were expecting her for dinner, her feet were killing her, and then she fell silent. He was worrying about what to say next, what to do. It seemed that the force that had brought them together was dwindling and he didn’t want that to happen. He pulled into a parking space, killed the engine, reached over, and took her hand.
    The rest of the afternoon passed slowly in the cooled, darkened room, in the light of the muted television as the weather channel continued its ceaseless forecast—Washington, Atlanta, Kalamazoo. Her dress was crumpled in the corner, like some ghost of the Victorian era