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It was the happiest day of Molly’s life—the first day of the rest of her life.  She finally decided that she would spend it alone, and she told Marty of her plan.

“Allow me to grieve your intentions.  They are some of the best and rarest I have ever had the misfortune of being strewn upon my unkindly misplaced ears,” he could only respond thusly after being shocked by what had just escaped her lips.

“Oh, but a folly lies surely in your statement—no intentions are present, I was merely stating what I will do.”  She loved speaking in archaic circles.  Generally, no one would listen, but she knew the old usher to be a lover of words, but also a lover of hearing his own voice resonate about nothing in particular.

“But surely, you cannot mean that.  This is the start of the rest of your life—the happiest day of your life.  You love that man waiting for you.  What will all of those people think?”

“I refuse to live a second longer for the objectives of others.  I am unconvinced suddenly of the whole faculty of love.  It seems misguided and selfish.”

“Just a simple, solid case of cold feet…”

“I can assure you it is not so,” and on that note, she dropped her flowers to the floor.

Although she wasn’t quite sure what her next move would be, she knew what it wouldn’t be.  She was not going to walk down that church aisle and parade her false intentions in front of a crowd of many.  She was not going to pledge herself eternal to some other being.  She was not going to seal that pledge with a kiss.  Everyone who was attending the “wedding” would get a show, certainly not the one that had drawn them there; no marriage vows would be involved.  Other than that, her “intentions” did not exist.  She just knew that the impending marriage of the century would not be taking place. 

            This whole business of love that the old usher spoke of, what was it?  It had never been formally taught in any schooling that she was aware of.  The notion of it suddenly seemed alien and hostile.  Sure, dead coinsures of words long ago had once strung together lovely verse to express their undying affections for some lady-trumpet, but what of now?  She wasn’t quite sure she believed in the whole notion of love.  Did it really exist?

            She glanced up from the stone floor.  Marty was walking rather swiftly to the front of the church.  People were staring at him and wondering where he could possibly be going.  Molly knew that Marty would soon be telling Steven that his flighty soon to be bride was plotting an escape.  “A simple, solid case of cold feet,” he would tell Steven.  He couldn’t be more wrong.  Molly knew that this wasn’t cold feet; this was the veil of disillusionment being removed for the first time.  She knew she should love him; that boy was downright silly over her, even if she wasn’t the best catch.  He was. 

            Steven Clearly was set to inherit a well to do banking business from his father who inherited it from his father.  Lineages were quite easy to follow in the small town of Aurborlee.  His grandfather had started a small bank and turned it into the largest single bank the area had ever seen.  Besides being set to inherit enough money to make kings blush, Steven also received something that is possibly far more important from his father: dangerously good looks and a personality to fit.  Although Molly was no reptile, she wasn’t queen of pageantry either and almost looked awkward next to Steven.  She knew he was a trophy husband, but she didn’t mind. 

            As soon as Debbie caught wind of what her daughter was plotting, she immediately but discretely removed herself from her seat so she could talk some sense into Molly.  This wedding was not going down in reckless flames in front of all these people.  When she reached her conniving daughter, she quickly picked up her bouquet and handed it to her.  Molly ardently refused.   Oh, that girl.  She was fully capable of driving her mother absolutely mad, and she knew it.

            “Listen, honey.  You are just nervous, but don’t worry, that’s gonna go away.  Just get out there and do it.”  Debbie was attempting to be patient, but the urgency in her voice was quite forceful.  She felt like a mother reprimanding a cross infant in the middle of a crowded market: unnecessarily wicked and overly public.  “There is no turning back from the path I have chosen.  Love is just not a destination on this journey of mine.  It is quite possible that it is an illusion for the rest of the earth too.”  Oh, God.  What was she talking about this time?  The girl always seemed to be speaking in tongues; no one quite understood her.  “Yes, dear.  That’s fine and nice, but we have a wedding to do here…now, you hold these flowers.  Oh, let me dust them off a bit! There…just perfect!  You look beautiful.”  Debbie turned around with a tear in her eye; maybe she knew this wedding would never happen, or maybe her contacts were drying.

            To fully show her protest of the whole incident, Molly once again allowed her flowers to fall to the floor.  This time, however, the bouquet refused to be mistreated and allowed several flowers to break away.  Molly took in the world around her.  People were waiting for her inside the church.  The church, just a few days ago, became the site of a suicide at a funeral.  How perfectly, pleasantly morbid.  Poor man probably came to some strange realization about his existence and couldn’t take it, so he ended his existence.  Molly was contemplating doing much of the same, not by any means ending her life completely, but ending her existence as a passive individual who allowed life to happen to her instead of fully existing.  He was the talk of the town, she nearly smiled at this. Soon, she would be the one spoken about behind closed doors and ol’ what’s-his-face would be forgotten.  His incident would become a long ago terrible thing that happened but no one quite remembers.

            “Molly, you can’t do this.”

            Steven Clearly was perfectly beautiful.  Greek gods must have envied his visage.

“Why try and convince me otherwise when this is the first time in my life I have ever accomplished decisiveness.”

“Be indecisive for just a while more, I beg.  Here, look inside,” Steven tried to hand a bag of monumental meaning to Molly, but in her insolence, she refused it.

            Debbie, sensing that Steven was not getting through to the suddenly seemingly strong willed girl, once again made her entrance to dissuade her daughter from making some terrible mistake.  She was too late.  Steven slung the bag from across one should and dropped it to the floor.  He plopped down onto a chair where his upset body seemed to melt into the cushions.  As soon as he was successfully part of the furniture, he and his would be mother-in-law heard the church doors shut.

            Molly ran away on her simple, solid case of cold feet to the happiest day of the rest of her life—the first day of the rest of her life.