Fallout (Crank 3)

it will have a little color now.

Pop! goes a champagne cork.

Pop! And another. Pop! Three.

Around come glasses, and this time

I don’t hesitate to take one, despite

the way the preacher is looking at me.

Micah sees that too. He laughs.

You’re on the path to hell young,

he says. But he isn’t much older,

and he has a glass in his hand too.

No one else seems concerned as

the toasts begin. Plenty of wine

for all. Including me. I like the bubbly

stuff okay. But am starting to crave

something stronger. Something

to take my mind off losing Aunt

Cora tomorrow. Something to make

me forget all about Micah and how

his hand feels exploring my knee.

I like it. I do. But this time I summon

my courage, push it away. “Stop,”

I whisper hoarsely. “Please stop.”

He does. And that makes me want

another glass of champagne. And

I know that isn’t good. I’ll stop after

tomorrow. I’ll stop when I get pregnant.

WEDDING DAY DAWNS

Heavy with impending rain.

It’s going to storm crazy.

Wonder if it’s an omen.