Wedding, wedding, wedding, she sang inside her head. Joni's getting married and she’d got to sit on the groom’s lap last night in the car on the way home from dinner. He smelled nice and laughed a lot, but his mother had a wart in the crease next to her nose and looked like a witch. She had a new dress. Well it was new to her. Her sister got to wear it last year to their cousin’s wedding. But this time it was her turn. The satin felt all slippery against her thighs but her shoes were too loose. Space for you to grow into them, her mother had said. That was going to make it hard to dance, but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and lifted her dress, humming. Someday she would be the bride and her shoes would fit and she would have a new dress that nobody else has worn. And her husband would smell good, like Joni’s and she would make his mother sit in the back where her warts wouldn’t show. And she would dance all night and people would take her picture. Maybe. Just not her face.
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