Doug: Yihud

“Shouldn’t you be panicking by now? Isn’t that the tradition for this sort of thing?” I asked laconically, lounging in the plush chair that the hotel had helpfully provided. Abe glanced over at me, the genuine grin on his face demonstrating his irrepressible good mood. There had been a lot of that lately, more than I had ever seen before. That was part of the reason I approved of this mad venture.

“People panic when they make bad decisions. This is the best decision of my life.”

“Better than sharing those gobstoppers in 6th grade? Better than driving a thousand miles in 48 hours to see Haylee Williams? Better than biking 60 miles to Santa Fe with no preparation and only 6 liters of water? Better than visiting Juarez during a gang war?”

“Better than all of the above.”

“I’m offended.” I’m really not, but I feel as though I should put up some kind of token resistance to my best friend, my brother, descending into the shackles of ‘Holy Matrimony’. “You’re saying that a lifetime of eternal partnership is better than my everlasting brotherhood and friendship.”

“She does things that you can’t do for me man.”

I sighed, laying my head back against the headrest on the chair and wincing. “I know. Please don’t enlighten me with the details. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how you can move. Last night was fucking crazy.” Gremlins inside my skull are doing their best to bore through my ocular nerves and frontal lobe. Abe glances at me in the mirror, eyebrow cocked, the grin growing wider.

“Man up, lightweight. You aren’t the one getting married.”

I put my hand over my eyes and moaned, “Thank the Gods.”

A soft knock at the door heralded two blonde heads poking their way into the room.

“Are you not ready?” The taller one asked in a slightly harried voice.

“You have like, 5 minutes.” The shorter one laughed, eyeing me speculatively.

“I’ll be ready.” I’m half dressed, the tux pants still sitting forlornly on the hanger with the jacket. “One time in JROTC I had three minutes from wake time to get dressed and get to school before being late to zero hour. Made it with thirty seconds to go.”

The taller blonde, Meghan, made a hissing sound through her teeth. “The Bride will not like her wedding to take place with pantsless people.”

Jasmine tilted her head to the side, eyes staring off into the distance. I glanced at her, reading her mind: “Imagining naked wedding?”

“It has possibilities.”

“File it, You and Meghan can have one.” Abe commented from in front of a mirror, straightening his tie. “Doug, put your pants on. I’m getting married.”

“I’m not sure I can move…”

“We can move you.” Jasmine volunteers.

“Three minutes and seventeen seconds.”

“Pants. I will wear these pants.” I put them on, tucking in my shirt and buckling my belt. Meghan steps forward and fiddles with my tie.

“One minute.” Jasmine says. I throw on my coat. Abe squares his shoulders, looking slightly nervous for the first time.

“I’m making a huge mistake.”

I grin. Finally, some sense. “The window’s big enough. I already checked.”

“I’m wearing flats.” Jasmine grins, prepared.

Meghan lifts up her skirt just a hair and pulls her car keys out a pouch connected to a small holster for the Sig strapped to her leg. “Front parking lot, third row.”

She paused, “Why is everyone staring at me?”

“Where did you get the gun?”

“Why do you have the gun?”

“Why did I not find that earlier?”

I glance at Jasmine. “In a church?” She smiles like the cat that got the canary. I suppose she did.

Meghan looks at each of us in turn. “Ron’s. Because it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, and I wasn’t wearing it during that.” She turns a little red. “My turn for a question. Are we doing this or not?”

“Not.” Abe flip flops.

“Seriously John Kerry? You want some ketchup with those pancakes?”

“Let’s go.” He grabs me and half forces me out the door. The bright sunlight burning through the window stabs into my eyeballs and I almost swear before I realize we’re in front of about sixty of our close friends and relatives.

Jordan, my brother, is officiating, and looking at his watch pointedly. I grin and nod at Abe, who shrugs, muttering “It’s my wedding, It goes when I go.” Meghan and Jasmine flit out behind us, taking their seats. I am recovered from the hateful sun and nudge Abe over to the altar.

“How do Jews normally do this?” I ask. I’m far from being a lousy best man, at least in the sinful sense of the job, but Abe had specified that he was going for some kind of combined thing, only part Jewish, and kept me in the dark with most of the details. I had a speech and a party, and that was it, simple really.

“Lots of ceremony, dancing,” He mutters. “The wine glass thing is really the only thing I kept, as per my penchant for breaking shit. Also there’s the Yihud.”

“What’s that?”

“After the ceremony, the bride and groom get 15 minutes alone before the rest of the party starts.”

“Post ceremony nookie? I like that.” I like that a lot.

“Depends on how reverent you’re feeling.” Said with a less than reverent grin. I grin too, and then the music starts up.
Abe mutters, “Oh shit.” Right as I say, “Showtime.”

Out comes the first and only bridesmaid, coming down the aisle at what appears to be light speed. She flashes me a salacious grin that I pray that Meghan and her gun don’t notice and takes her place to the right of Jordan.
Abe has become completely calm. His face is neutral and he nods to the bridesmaid, acknowledging her presence, but focusing on the entrance where a figure in white has appeared.

As The Bride approached, the serious look broke into a smile that I had rarely seen on my best friend’s face, and in that moment, I knew it was going to be all right

-Doug