Short story
the last of them we decided to have a quiet nightcap. What happened then was, I think, quite shocking. A woman emerged in a wedding dress, teetering dangerously on stiletto heels. It was one of those dresses that had no sleeves, nor indeed any discernible top. It was hard to make out where her shoulders ended and the next part of her body, so to speak, began. She peered over at my wife and I, but I swear she couldn’t see us. She then sallied brazenly forth to three men who were, I presume, on a business journey and relaxing in each others proper company before the next day’s drive. They raised their eyes to her – they had no choice – and the lifting up of their faces gave her some sort of hades like signal to burst into the most offensively private thoughts that I have ever heard uttered. She concluded that it was a peculiar thing really, that this morning she hadn’t been married at all and now she was. As she swayed over her shoes I thought what a better place marriage might have been if it had not admitted her. We were all in shock. She then complained that most of her guests were already in bed and wondered why. We didn’t. Now, you see, the trouble about this intrusion was not only the disgrace of it, but that it put us in mind of our own wedding days, and what stately affairs they were in comparison. And although you may think that that should have made us grateful, it also unsettled our pleasant nightcap. We were, after all, about to go to our beds, and although I know that technically you may not think that the nighttime retirements of your guests has anything to do with you, they are a part of your package. I will say no more on that issue because if you don’t get embarrassed I will. But really, this letting loose of a drunk bride into our bar was extremely disturbing. She then disappeared back to her quarters, much to our relief. The three men and the two of us tried not to look at each other, but, in truth, the gratifying anonymous space between us had been muddied. We were silent for a while, trying to gather our evening back to ourselves, when lo and behold the entire party spilled out from several corners, straight on top of us again. Now you may be finding the geography of the evening a bit confusing, not realizing that you have as many entrances into the bar as 114 Senior Times l November - December 2018 l www.seniortimes.ie
you do have, but bear with me, or indeed, go stand just to your left of the front desk and look around you. The party surrounded us. I then noticed the groom and hoped that he might bring some order to the tone but he looked shell shocked and had nothing to say. He too began to sway back and forth on his flat shoes. The bride, for that is what I will still call her, raucously slapped the poor groom on the back and guffawed, ‘imagine, guaranteed sex every night’. The guests, all of them, erupted into what I can only say was the sound you would expect from a Breugel painting. We, I’m afraid, had no choice but to leave our unfinished drinks and repair to our room. Now, I know, as I’ve alluded to, that you may not like me bringing this up, but really I think you should bear this sort of incident in mind and do whatever it takes to avoid a recurrence. In the interests of all your guests and the smooth running of your establishment, of course. There. John let his pen waver dangerously over the form. He was wondering if he should add more to this, and was indeed searching for a blank page, when he was suddenly overcome with sadness. He looked out his window and rested his eyes on the tree that they had saved from the builders, and he longed for Moira to be finished the shopping. But then a mysterious thing happened, the tree shook itself, like a dog after getting out of the sea. From nowhere a feeling of forgiveness spread over him like a blush and he put aside the questionnaire. The Rathmines clock jolted him as it rang out its exact time, daringly, into the late autumn air. Moira opened the door and the sound of a foghorn slithered in with her. John closed the desk and got up to help her. ‘What did you do?’ she asked. ‘Nothing,’ he said, and never mentioned the earth being sucked into the sun.