“What do you think about marriage?”
I think about my 18-year-old sister, with that veil over her smiling face. I think about the silence, the void of life that followed.
I think about her with tears on her face 18 months later, as she asked my grandmother if she could stay for the night.
I think how great that was.
I think about my parents, how they’ve enjoyed wedded bliss for 30 years. I think about my dad, his hands around my mom’s throat, as he banged small, round dents into the sheetrock with her head.
I think about how I walked away.
I think how beautiful that is.
I think about my grandparents, fidelity for over 50 years. I think about listening to my grandmother talk about her ex-boyfriends, how she wishes, how she misses.
I think about hearing her describe all the places she would have visited if it weren’t for Grandpa.
She didn’t miss that bastard until she found him facedown on the floor for the last time, no pulse, no life. Finally?
I think how fantastic that is.
I think about my best friends, both good-looking kids, in love for five years. I think about how she left graduate school when she became pregnant with twins.
I think about how he decided he would rather love a stripper. I think about her voice on the phone, when she snuck back into her own house and found the baby cribs full of empty beer cans.
Her clothes were on the garage floor.
I think how jealous I am.
I think about my uncle, with his beautiful wife and daughters. I think about their perfect life, minivans and vacations.
I think about my uncle looking over at me at the stoplight, and saying that he would be happy if the plane carrying his wife home crashed tonight. I think about what to say.
I think about the preachers that get rich declaring the genesis of such eternal beauty. You may now fuck the bride, your life. I think about the lawyers that get rich eternally ending this beauty.
Till death do those guys part your savings account. I think about the children that are destroyed in between.
Domestic violence and cable television is the least common denominator for these brats. They are doomed to the same fate, and can’t wait for it.
I’m sorry, what were you asking?
Oh, I think it’s great.