Oh God.
“After yearlong examinations, multiple yet thoughtful calculations, and precisely one accurate astrology test that was dabbled upon due to germination hormones, I, Keiko Priscilla Artemis Seymour can assuredly announce my pulmonary organ and lady loins are appropriated for and will forever and always belong in the prehensile appendages of Kelvin Timtom Thimble.”
Gingerly, she shuts the book, chin still held high, and hands it back to Pike. My mind is whirling with what the hell she just said. All I got from her declaration of love was enormously endowed and lady loins.
Also, Timtom?
Arlo, the “master of ceremonies,” according to Keiko, hands both of them their rings, and without saying a word, they place the rings on each other’s fingers and then clasp their hands together.
“Do you Keiko Priscilla Artemis Seymour take Kelvin TimTom Thimble to be your husband?” Arlo asks.
“I receive him in marriage,” Keiko says stoically.
Arlo turns to Kelvin who—when did he start breathing into a brown paper bag?
“Are you okay?” Arlo asks.
Kelvin nods and hands the bag over to Romeo, who keeps it on standby. “Proceed.”
“Do you Kelvin Timtom Thimble take Keiko to—”
“Keiko Priscilla Artemis Seymour,” Keiko interjects.
Arlo’s nostrils flare and I hold back my giggle.
“Do you Kelvin Timtom Thimble take Keiko Priscilla Artemis Seymour to be your wife?”
“I . . . I . . .” Kelvin tumbles over his words. “I receive her in marriage.”
“Huzzah!” Keiko says, lifting her fist to the air.
“Congratulations on renewing your vows,” Arlo says awkwardly. “You may kiss.”
In a clash of arms and lips, Keiko and Kelvin very sloppily maul each other, their hands gripping clothes, their mouths gaped open, their tongues . . . tangling.
Dear Jesus.
Uncomfortably, we sit there, watching this indecent public display of affection with no end in sight until, thankfully, Arlo sticks his hand between the two of them and pries them apart. “For the love of God, save it for later.” Once they’ve parted and righted their clothes, Arlo says, “It’s my pleasure to introduce you to your family and friends as Mr. and Mrs. Kelvin Timtom Thimble.”
Kelvin snags the brown bag from Romeo and brings it to his mouth, taking big breaths, causing the bag to inflate and deflate rapidly while, oblivious, Keiko holds their joined hands in the air and smiles with pride.
I clap.
I laugh.
I slightly tear up.
Because I love her. Even with her quirks and all, she’s a dear friend, and the smile on her face is one that was absent when I first met her. Yes, Keiko tends to be more open than one should, and, yes, she can be entirely too frustrating at times, but she’s also a loyal friend. Solid to the core, and before Kelvin, she wasn’t truly happy.
I can honestly say, Keiko Priscilla Artemis Seymour is content in her life.
And that makes me happy.
“I don’t get it,” I say as Pike’s hand slowly smooths over my exposed back.
We spent a good portion of the evening taking posed pictures only suitable for promotion of a show like Game of Thrones, and eating a feast for kings, as Keiko put it so nicely. The pictures took extra-long because Kelvin passed out twice. When asked if he was okay, Keiko just said he wasn’t good in big crowds, and yet, when I asked how he’s able to teach, Keiko clearly stated that when it comes to math, he’s in a different zone. When he needs to be social, he panics.
I get that, though, crowds and friends and family can be quite overwhelming.
“What don’t you get?” Pike asks as we slow dance under the soft twinkle lights spanning across the tent.
“Keiko’s parents. They seem so normal.”
Pike glances over to where Mr. and Mrs. Seymour are sitting, both very prestigious-looking in their evening wear, but I never would’ve guessed they were Keiko’s parents.
“Are they normal? Or are they the odd ones and Keiko is the one who’s normal?” he whispers in my ear.
“Very good point. I think you’re right.”
“I know I am. Keiko is living her best life. I think we’re the ones who are odd, holding back on insecurities.”
“Do you have insecurities?” I ask him.
He nods. “Don’t we all?”
“What are yours?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks.
“Not really. You seem incredibly confident in everything that you do.”
“You haven’t seen me under the correct circumstances that would cause me to show my insecurities.”