Unbearable
I arrive early for the wedding, on a hot summer's day in Hawkes Bay. It's an auspicious date - or at least a memorable one - a palindrome and an ambigram, I'm told - the same backwards and upside down: 22022022. It is early, so we hide inside, the aircon buzzing, a few guests waiting under the trees outside. A name from the past shoots past my ears, and my subconscious starts ticking over. I look at the man, his height, his laughter, and it clicks. We were school mates, 46 years ago. We hug, we laugh, and he reminds me my hair was jet black back then. It is two years since my mum died. She was a gentle woman who loved pansies. After my gorgeous brides say their vows, I drive to meet Mary for a commemorative afternoon tea. I have promised I'll bring the crockery, and she is puzzled to say the least. When I unpack the fine bone china from the bag, in mum's favourite colour, she gets it: it's our way of celebrating the Life of Joy, her crafty friend and confidant.