He eyes me softly, crooking his jaw to one side. “You know you’re the first one to ever say something like that to me. Ever. Even my own father never told me I had talent. The coaches either. They tend to see the player, rather than the person.” His thumb swirls over the nub on my wrist and he pulls my hand in to kiss it again. “I will keep my promise, Gil.”
We drive the rest of the way to Vegas hand in hand. Our fingers tangle tightly, and loosen, they twist and play, but not once does he release my hand.
The lights off the strip are blinding as we drive into town. I press my face to the window and look out in awe at the brightly lit casinos, the roaring fountains, and neon explosions. It’s incredible.
We drive beyond the brightly lit strip to a small suburban strip mall. Everything is shuttered and the lights are out, except for one storefront where a sign flashes “Chapel of Love.” Ryon pulls into a spot by the entrance and shuts off the car. “I, uh,” he starts to say as he rubs his jaw. “I figured we’d just go get it done. In and out. Does that work for you?”
“That’s the only reason we’re here, isn’t it?” He nods, releasing my hand for the first time to grab the steering wheel. “But if you’re having second thoughts—”
“No,” he says loudly, jerking his body to face me. “I’m not having second thoughts. I’m actually worried you might leave me at the altar.”
“I gave you my word I would help you. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m not backing out. No cold feet here.”
“Good. Then let’s get this show on the road. Ready to get hitched?”
“Ready.”
We climb out of the car, and I grab my bag. Once we’re inside, it’s an explosion of hot pink and white tulle. There doesn’t seem to be a single solid or not shimmering surface in the chapel. Elvis Presley blares from the speakers singing “Viva Las Vegas,” and the air is thick with decades of cigarette smoke and also an overly smell I can’t put my finger on.
We approach the check in desk and a bored looking teenager barely looks up when we approach. “Ahem,” Ryon coughs, to get her attention. When she finally takes her eyes off her phone, she puts on a surely phony megawatt smile and says, “Welcome to the Chapel of Love where we can make you happily ever after in an hour or less, guaranteed, or we give you a ten percent discount. Are you the happy couple?” Her words come out in a quick stream as if she says this hundreds of times a day, and it take Ryon and me a few beats to process and respond.
“Yup,” Ryon says, gesturing between the two of us. “Happy couple. Happily ever after.”
“Ok then, let’s get started. Licenses?” she says as she quickly starts grabbing papers from under the counter. Ryon goes into his back pocket and hands over the marriage license he applied for online. While he pays, I sit down on a hot pink vinyl couch and start filling out the paperwork. Of course there’s lots to fill out about Ryon that I simply don’t know because . . . well, because I don’t really know the man I’m about to marry. “Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog” starts playing and Ryon sits beside me. I hand him the clipboard.
“You’ll have to fill in some of these questions,” I say, handing him the pen. “I don’t know what your permanent address is or your mother’s maiden name.”
“Sure,” he says, and starts filling in the missing fields on the forms. We sit there staring at our feet for a few minutes until our names are called by another woman.
“Right this way,” she says, walking toward us. We follow her down a long hallway and into a smaller room with racks of clothes. There are suits and dresses, fancy hats, and bouquets. You could wear a florescent orange tux if you choose, or purple or yellow, there’s literally every color under the sun. You can dress up like Elvis too if that’s what you’re into, but we didn’t come for the novelty of a Vegas wedding, we came with an agenda.
“Did you want to pick out something? It comes with the package you chose,” the woman says, popping her gum as she speaks and looking at the forms we filled out.
“Oh, no thank you. I’ll be fine in my own clothes.” I say.
“How about you?” she asks Ryon.
“Nope, I’m good too.”
“Suit yourselves,” she laughs, then stares at us. “Get it? Suit yourselves.” She shakes her head when we don’t join in on her laughter. “Shorts it is then.”
She nods her head to follow, and we do, trailing her heels like a couple of puppy dogs. She stops us at big white doors decorating in golden hearts and cupids. “You wait here. When this couple comes out, you’re up,” she says, chirpily. “And over there is the bowl of rice if you want to throw some at the newlyweds. It’s fun!”
“Okay, I think we got it,” Ryon says, tipping his head to let her know she can go.
As she’s walking away, he leans into my ear and whispers. “Someone likes their job a little too much.” We both laugh, but the laughter is cut short as the double chapel doors fly open, hitting us where we stand.
A couple comes busting through, arm in arm, and one of the doors hits Ryon in his ass. Jumping to the side, he quickly starts to clap. The newlyweds stop and stare at him, and he keeps clapping. Then he reaches into the bowls of rice and flings some at them, whooping and laughing.
They were already beaming, but now with this gesture of celebration for their union, they’re smiles broaden. Ryon claps louder, and his enthusiasm is contagious. I grab a handful of rice and toss it into the air, too. I clap along with him.
The couple kisses again, and the bride throws her hand up and yells with us. The way these two strangers are smiling is invigorating. I’m happy for them. I want that happiness. I want that smile, that touch, that kind of overwhelming love.
Ryon pokes his head into the chapel and an older man waves us forward. “I think they’re ready for us,” he says shyly to me.
The music starts. It’s a traditional wedding march, and I’m surprised to see an older woman playing a real organ in the corner of the chapel. Cheesy, that’s all I think. This place looks like it hasn’t been updated since the early eighties. Red velvet carpet, wallpapered walls, deep mahogany pews, and obnoxious gold décor all over the place.
“Come on down, come on down here,” the man guides with a few flips of his fingers. “Dolores can’t play forever. She has arthritis, you know?”
Ryon and I look at each other, and he braids our fingers together. “This is it. Last chance to run.”
“I’m only running forward if that’s the way you’re running.”
Ryon gives me a caring smile, and I can see the appreciation in his eyes. This means something to him, and I’m happy to help him. Maybe I’m being stupid and naive. Maybe this is the biggest mistake I’ll ever make in my life, but for now, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
We walk down the aisle, hand in hand, my nerves are going crazy, and my veins getting hot under my skin. I’m not sure why I’m so freaking nervous.
None of this is real, it’s all a show, I tell myself. But deep inside, there’s a small piece of me that wishes it was real.
What is wrong with you?