My Left Tongue

EVERYONE HAS TO BELIEVE ME, I JUST CAME IN HERE FOR THE FOOD. I’ve been peckish all day long, and I’ve been thinking about chicken with rice pilaf. Are those decanters of off-brand wine? I think this is where I’m supposed to be.

Not to mention, all my friends are here. Hello, all my old friends.

Susan, for instance. We nursed together. Do you remember that? We went to Thursday morning classes, clapping our baby’s hands and pretending they were learning music. How is Lucas, anyway? He must be a prodigy. When we took those classes together, you always portrayed him as a prodigy.

Plus, there’s a band. I wonder if I know anyone in the band. I feel like I know everyone here. I must know someone in the band. Not your kid anyway, am I right Sue?

Listen. Listen, everybody. I’m not here to make trouble. I’m not here to detract from the bride. I’ve known her for years. Does everyone know that? Sharon and I went to college together. I could be such a smart ass in those days. I remember drinking wine coolers in our room with a friend one night, and you know, he was giving me this eye and everything. We were talking about anal sex, because, you know, Catholic college, and finally Sharon says, “You guys. I have to read fifty pages.”

And I said, “Are they in order?”

Anyone? Are they in order? Hello? Don’t you–?

Hey, it’s fine. I don’t need a mic, anyway. Am I right? It’s great to see you, Father. I haven’t seen you since my wedding, probably. I know it was a sore point, the fact that I never got my girl baptized. You invested all that effort in me. I don’t think it’s unreasonable, your expecting some payback. It’s just, I wasn’t all that crazy about Vivien getting told all the time how bad she had to feel just for being alive. That’s the Catholic gig, right? You’re six, you’re five. You’re told every single Sunday, Jesus died for your sins and so you’d better make the best of the day. I mean, you’re seven. What are you going to do? Arrange your crayons to track the colors to Roy G. Biv, and maybe not fret about the immortality of your soul.

And tell me, Father Roy, what are my sins? From where I’m standing, and yes, I am barely standing, I don’t think that my sins strike me as all that self-evident. I am not a walking Declaration of Sins.

But back to the bride, back to the groom.

The groom! Charles. You’re here, you showed up. You didn’t stiff at the altar. I know it must be painful to see me. It’s painful to hear Vivien’s name. But that’s what life is Charles. Life is getting fucked in the ass, just like that boy taught me in Catholic school.

Quick aside: Boston College briefly considered changing its name to Boston Jesuit University, because it thought that doing so would cause it to accrue more respect. The acronym BJU may have soured that taste.

Charles, you’ve got every reason to be angry with me today. I’ve not got a scrap of business being here. I do want you to know that I did forgive you, Charles. At one point, I did forgive you. But not for running off with Sharon. I think that was entirely tacky.

Who else is here?

Hey, Charles’s dad. Do you remember the toast you gave at our wedding? You told all your friends that God brought Charles to Philadelphia. God selected Temple Law for him. And God did it so that Charles could meet me. Isn’t that amazing? God had time enough on his hands to manage Charles’s love life, and could do it more efficiently than I can load a Tinder account. But, it seems to me, when things got tough, when we found our girl in the back of a Subaru, that’s when God swiped left.

Now here I am, talking out of my left tongue. If you covered all this in the service, Father. I missed it. Do they let you do number twos? Did you tell the one about wives obeying their husbands? It’s a classic. I never stop laughing. You used to think so too, Sharon. I remember at my wedding, seeing you in the third row pew, with your white knuckles.

Anyway, I think my time here is just about done. Raise your glasses. Mine is empty. But let’s say a toast to–

Scott? Damn dude, is that you Scott? You’re still playing bass. That’s amazing. Charles begged me to have your band play our wedding. I can’t tell you how pissed he was when I said no. Not much wives obeying their husbands on that one, right Father? I mean, we weren’t married yet, so maybe I get a mulligan.

What do you think, Charles? Have you forgiven me for not letting your best friend’s band play at our wedding? I’ve forgiven you, Charles. I’ve forgiven you so much. Except losing Vivien. When I told you that I forgave you for that, Charles, I was talking out of the other side of my cheek.

Quick aside: that kid in college, his name was Brendan.

So, I’ve got to hit the road, but do I have time for one last song? I wrote it special for the occasion. Kind of a wedding gift, since nobody would tell me where the two of you are registered. You probably don’t want to make room for me on the stage, Scott. That’s cool. I can sing it acapella.

Do you take this man?

Do you take this man?

Do you take this man?

Because I sure did.

First.

Thank you. And good night.