Friday, June 24, 2011

Laurel's Big Fat Greek Wedding, Part 2.

The whole thing was a veritable "Who's Who" of the greatest of the Greek and Norse godheads in attendance. Aisling was one of the flower girls, which everyone agreed later made it even more special. She dropped smallish white flower petals that nevertheless were not inconsequential for her to heft. They floated to earth gently and airily and the effect was heavenly and ethereal.

Bit of a fiasco getting this ceremony going, though...the wedding planner called it in, someone put a divine brand on Laurel's forehead that reads "MURDERER", and like a dumbass, I pull out my badge from pure instinct and state I needed to ask her some questions before she blurted out "YOU WERE THERE!!" which snapped me out of it.

"Oh, THAT. That wasn't murder, that was counter-terrorism. Defenseless my arse. Voodoo still creeps me the fook out."

Ciara climbed a nearby building and pretended to be a potential suicide to help draw media attention away from the main event. Oh, and from the large herd of Norse livestock in the streets of downtown Chicago...yeah, don't ask. You had to be there, trust me.

After that, things went off beautifully.

It really was a nice ceremony; I teared up a bit...partly from the beauty of what I beheld, partly because it completely shattered any remaining delusion I harbored on my part that Laurel had ever felt anything for me other than professional concern as my treating physician and as a loyal platonic friend.

Object, you say? To what, exactly? I had nothing against Gunnar, still don't...he's a great guy, and a good team member. Bit impulsive and stupid at times, but I'm not one to talk either, loner that I am. They looked radiantly happy. My heart sank despite wanting to feel happy for my friends. I'm steadfastly a loner, often proudly so but at that moment I just felt...lonely. More lonely than I have felt in years.

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