was black. He sat up and knocked his head on something above him, clanging like metal. He reached his hands out and felt the steel shell that enveloped him. He pushed up on the metal and it gave, it slowly raised up high. An excavator’s arm, pulled up into the air by the last ounce of juice in the engine. The pistons wheezed as they lifted. The man-made quick to roll out from underneath before the claw came crashing back down, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He fell onto his back, looking up at the yellow sky.
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“What is it?” he says.
“I can’t be with you anymore, Lou,” she says, “I don’t like where this is going.” She touches her golden necklace greening her neck. He crosses his arms watching the sun tuck behind the ocean’s waves. The drops are built up but held back by the eyelids.
“You want me to be somebody I’m not. Somebody who He doesn’t want me to be. It’s not fair, that position” she says. “I’m not the bad guy so don’t try and make me out to be that way.” She turns toward him, imposing on the image of the sunset with a scowl. He looks at her. The tear drops down his cheek and hangs off his chin.
“I don’t want to lose you too, Min.” His words come out defeated, low and quiet. Minnie lightens her brows and her face softens. Her white skirt dances around her knees in the wind and that smell of raspberries wafts from her neck to Lou’s nose. He looks at her now, the tears hold. She’s looking up at him with big eyes, fondling her cross beneath her chin like a ripe cherry. Her lips part and her teeth shine through.
“Then don’t,” she says. Min grabs Lou’s hands and places them around her necklace charm. She clasps her hands around his. “Don’t let go.” The spokes of the cross are sharp, prodding into his squeezed palms. It just might pierce.
“You want me, to be somebody I’m not,” says Lou.
“God wants you. God wants you to be with me.” Her grip tightens and she smiles wider. “You love me, Lou, don’t you?” Lou’s face tightens from the pain. The sun has drifted deep now, only the last stretches of the aura remain. The still water begins to stir. “Lou?”
“Yes.”
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The rounded screen of the television is the only light cast in the room. Lou sits on a sofa in a pair of black slacks and dress shoes. His bowtie dangles around the collar of his white button-up. His arms are stretched out on the back of the couch, his head cocked back. The screen continues to flash images of the marching armies of men alongside missiles. There’s a knock at the door. Lou cocks his head up and looks, then gets up on the second knock to answer.
“Hello, my son. Nearly ready? Some contractors wish to speak to me soon before the ceremony,” says the tall, gray-haired man. He brings his hat to his waist between both hands. He raises his chin inquisitively, flaunting his clerical collar.
“Yes, father, just- just a moment.” Lou turns back into the house and grabs his tuxedo coat off the worn recliner that Dad used to sit in. He slung the coat around and slipped his arms in as he looked at the family photo sitting just on top of the television. The screen still displayed a montage of military demonstrations, sensationalized headlines, and sweating newscasters.
“I wanted to thank you again for deciding to donate to the church’s repair fund,” said the priest, “Hebrews, my son, do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” Lou switched the TV off and took a moment to admire the picture. His mom smiled wide; her teeth cherry red lipstick used to stain his cheek. She held up one side while his dad held up the other with his thick, hairy arm. His combover and bright patterned shirts always made him look lovably goofy. They swung him high up into the air and it never crossed his mind that he would one day fall.
“Son?” said the old man peering through the doorway. Lou set the photo down again, taking another moment to remember the time.
“Yes, Father Mann.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
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The beautiful colors filtered through the stained glass were cast across the ceremony like watercolors. Lou stood beneath the huge crucifixion crafted out of the painted shards. The decorations were ornate and golden. “Gold is holy,” Min told him. The bride’s side of the nave was bustling with unfamiliar faces, old men with wives in pearls. On the other side, the pews were sparse. A woman sat adjusting a broken buckle on her high heel, an old man bewildered at the noise who didn’t know where he was, and a reserved sign taped up where his parents would have been.
The priest stepped through the center doors, directing construction workers toward what needed to be tended to. The busy city just outside the church’s walls snuck car horns and footsteps into the hall until the doors were slammed shut. The outside of the church was surrounded by heavy machinery used for renovations. He gestured at the trim of the doorways and the new crystal light fixtures above. He was putting Lou and Min’s latest donation to good use. Father Mann parted the crowded aisle and approached the altar to prepare for the ceremony.
“Lou, my boy. Today is the big day! God bless you, what a beautiful wedding to be held in my church,” said Mann.
“Thank you, Father. Min spent a lot of time deciding on every little piece to make it perfect,” said Lou. “Without her, I don’t think this could have ever gotten done.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Lou. It’s your wallet after all.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” said Lou. He looked again at the sign. RESERVED. Mann noticed the sign as well.
“Oh, those women setting up shop in here. Must’ve got so excited they didn’t realize what they were doing,” said Mann. He snatched the sign down, crumpled it into his pocket, and gave Lou a smile. “Sorry about that.” Mann stepped back up onto the altar and wrapped his arm around Lou’s shoulders. “You know, Lou. There’s nothing better for your gracious inheritance to have gone to, I’m sure they’re upstairs right now smiling down at the wonderful wedding in this wonderful, renovated church.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Lou. He remembered his dad’s last time in the church and the words he said. The way his mother side-smiled and whispered, “We won’t need to come back until next Christmas.”
Father Mann gave the organist a tap and motioned for the patrons to settle. Once the sound of the church dulled, the organ raised. Min stepped around the corner and down the aisle to the rhythm. Her veil clouded her face other than the bright white teeth behind cherry red lips. The organ boomed from behind Lou; the wind traveling through its pipes beneath the floor rattled his bones. The bundle of peonies and garden roses clutched between her palms bounded along with her steps. She held dearly onto the arm of her father, Father Mann. He held her hand as she carefully stepped up to the altar, handing her bouquet to the bridesmaid who supported her dress. And now she was held only by him, hand in hand. Lou felt his eyelids grow tense once again. His heart sang at the sight of true love in front of him. He tried to forget the man’s gaze from above, just focusing on the compassion he felt for Minnie.
Father Mann speaks to the onlookers, the same classic words heard at every wedding Lou had ever been to. They drowned in the sea of tension between his ears. A weight growing heavier and heavier on him from above. He could feel the hairs on his neck stand up beneath his collar. Mann spoke, “Do you take Minnie Mann as your lawful wife…” The sun must have been revealed behind the clouds as the windows began to shine even brighter. “…to have and to hold from this day forward…” The crowd was tearing up, blowing into handkerchiefs, cooing like babies. “…for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health…” The room grew silent other than the reverberations of Father Mann’s voice through the still air. “…to love and cherish until death do you part?” The word ‘death’ rang through Lou’s mind like a hot knife sizzling across his frontal lobe. His eyes stayed fixed on Min’s, her eyes dripping with mascara behind the white veil. His eyes dripped too, though nothing was left to hold them back. Just as nothing was there to send them forth, anymore.
“Yes.” The church was jolted. The foundation shook like a near-death convulsion. The crowd gasped and hollered as a white crack slithered up Christ’s leg and through his head. It held for a moment before a shockwave sent the stained pieces flying across the room revealing its cause. The room lit up brighter, and brighter. Father Mann fell to his knees in prayer, Minnie draping herself over him in hopelessness. The crowd cowers and scrambles through windows, begging for forgiveness. The light filled their eyes, Lou’s eyes. The light of the mushroom cloud piercing high heaven with the black plume of Beelzebub himself, all-consuming. A second shockwave blew the ceiling off of the church, exposing their divinity to the harsh, unrelenting power of nuclear fallout.
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Lou had just nearly escaped the claw of the excavator as he lay on his back surrounded by the dust. He coughed and waved as the dirt dissipated. Then it struck him, the sickly yellow sky staring back at him. He stood up, out from beneath, beneath the rubble. Ash coats the skin, and the sky burns the hairs on the back of your head. There is a stillness unseen before. Air particles don’t shift from cars driving down the street or from words out of spoken nonsense. Instead, they sit watching in awe, just as you do now. Just as your sunken cheeks tighten from lack of moisture. It’s a thirst for explanation. An understanding of what the world has become when the sky is no longer blue. There is no sound because what is there to say? What can be remarked other than God. Dear God. because there is no sense to be made. There is no prayer to be had. Just a simple reminder that what is real is too much to bear and that there must be some entity, some being, somebody who can hear you. Who can respond. Maybe hold your tears and clean your hands of dirt and cuts. Guide the way, out from in which there is no escape. Yet, just as there always was, there was nothing.
