Lauren married Joe without Rachel as her maid of honour. After years had dulled the pain of her absence, this knowledge was the whetstone that honed it to a sharp and jagged edge again.

It took place in Holy Spirit Parish, the church Joe's family attended ever since they'd arrived in Canada, even though by this time they had moved to North Burnaby. The service couldn't include the full mass because Lauren wasn't Catholic, and for that she was thankful, because the ceremony was only a half hour long instead of a full hour. 

The dour old priest, the same one who was at the ten year celebration dinner but now more stooped and shrivelled, had done his best to make the ceremony as joyless as possible by insisting that her wedding dress not be too revealing; by suggesting (not really suggesting, demanding) that they purchase the flowers through the church's supplier and leave them after the wedding to decorate the church for the next day's masses; and by sprinkling hints throughout his droning sermon that sex was for babies only and not to enjoy it too much. The one thing she wouldn't budge on was that she wanted both her parents to walk her down the aisle; she was not some property to be passed from father to husband.

The dress she wore was her mother's, and luckily it didn't need much alteration; they had similar frames. It covered what it needed to cover to the priest's satisfaction. It was an ivory colour that complimented her skin tone, but to be honest she never really cared about the dress, she would have married Joe wearing a garbage sack if that was all she had, but the dress fulfilled the something old and something borrowed items. The something new was her shoes, a sensible pair of flats matching the dress, that would allow her to dance the night away at the reception without killing her feet.

The something blue was a garter belt that only Joe would see later. It was definitely not coming off during the reception for the delectation of the single men; she'd toss the damn bouquet, but that was as far as she'd go with the humiliating reception rituals, and she was already dreading all the clinking of glasses every five minutes.

Joe was already crying as he watched her march up the aisle. She could have killed him for that, because of course now she was crying. For such a big, manly man, he was surprisingly emotional, and though she liked it most of the time, right now she was in danger of making her mascara run. His brother Johnny stood beside him, his best man, and that made her cry harder, because Rachel should have been there on the other side, holding her bouquet, beaming at her; maybe her dirty blonde hair would be in a fancy chignon, and she would be the one wearing the lavender dress. Having no siblings of her own, she had no natural choice, and the best friend of her childhood would have been the logical option. It was a sad state of affairs when she had to go looking for someone to fill the role, that she didn't have a posse fighting among themselves for the honour.

Joanie Mara was the only other woman in her classes at the Justice Institute of B.C. Lauren had never gotten rid of the detecting bug, and none of the other universities or colleges offered any educational options that interested her. The Justice Institute offered education in all of the first responder professions, and even though police training was one of the fields of study, at least it wasn't direct recruitment in a specific police force, so Dad wouldn't have a heart attack while she learned the know-how if not put on a badge right away (she'd cross that bridge later if necessary).

Joanie came from police, though, and she was on track to follow her father and his father before him into the RCMP. Lauren hadn't introduced Joanie to her parents beforehand because she didn't want her to get an earful about the whole family history. The first time they met her was at the wedding.

She was nice enough, and she and Lauren had bonded in solidarity against the hyper-male culture of the program. No one was supposed to say as much anymore, but the male classmates looked unfavourably upon their presence in the classroom, and did their best to make them feel unwelcome. The locker room talk, the jokes that were poorly disguised misogyny. The pranks. Joanie was tough as nails, though, and her family history had eventually earned her grudging respect. Lauren, not so much; she had to work twice as hard as the men to earn the same amount of recognition, but at least she had Joanie there to support her and complain with her in private.

Joanie was tall and muscular, nearly Lauren's opposite in frame, and she filled her bridesmaid dress quite nicely, attracting the eyes of many in the congregation. She also had flaming red hair, and Lauren couldn't help feeling a little jealous of her today when she normally didn't care, because the bridesmaid was never supposed to outshine the bride.

Joe, to his credit, never looked Joanie's way. His eyes were only on her.

Mom discreetly wiped Lauren's cheek with a kleenex as they walked arm in arm, Dad on the other side. She didn't want to look at either of them, fearing the tears would come again.

Dad had given her a gift she couldn't wear among her somethings, not if she didn't want to scare the congregation by having it strapped to her back. She still couldn't believe he wanted her to have the sword. He'd even surprised her by walking into her room as she'd been getting dressed, shocking her mother and Joanie both, who hadn't been entirely decent. He'd dressed in his uwagi, obi and hakama, and upon seeing her had fallen to one knee, presenting the sword in upraised palms. To Joanie's shock, Lauren had begun sobbing, and she must have thought her father was going to use it on her. Shocking her again, Lauren had knelt in front of her father, not caring if she dirtied her dress, and lifted it from his hands, then hugged him hard.

"Why, Dad, why?" she'd asked in the Japanese he'd taught her.

"You deserve it more than I do," he'd responded in the same language. "You stopped that terrible man. You are the samurai in this family."

Some fathers would look upon their daughters on their wedding day and pronounce them the most beautiful woman in the world, or say that they didn't know where their little girl had gone, and who was this woman before them? His honorific had meant more to her than any of those. "I am who I am because of you, Dad," she'd whispered in his ear. "Arigato."

"My little warrior," he'd said in English, nodding, his tears wetting her cheeks and mixing with her own.

The congregation was lopsided. Joe's family and their friends vastly outnumbered hers. She was reminded of that ten year dinner, which had happened in the hall right across the parking lot, and of all of the Italians who'd attended. They packed the pews in suits and fancy dresses, slicked back hair and hats. Her side of the aisle was almost depressing in comparison; the wedding of their daughter was insufficient incentive to reunite her parents' estranged families. A couple of distant relatives, unaffected by the feud, came for the opportunity to imbibe free booze. She didn't think she'd even met any of them before. Friends from Dad's fishing days came, even though he wasn't physically able to work on the boats anymore and was on disability pension. Mom had teacher friends from the Burnaby School Board.

One allowance Joe's family made to her side of the aisle was to put Mr. and Mrs. Anderson there, since they were friends from their days in Queensborough, and could have been invited by her own parents as much as his. Mrs. Anderson hardly looked different than she had when Lauren was still living in Queensborough, and she was beaming in a frilly lavender dress and hat, as if she'd predicted Lauren's colour scheme. Mr. Anderson, however, didn't look so good. Lauren heard he'd had a stroke not too long ago. One side of his body sagged, and when Mrs. Anderson wasn't watching the ceremony she was keeping an eye on him in case he sank into the pew.

Seeing them made her think of Queensborough, and then of her old friends in the LSDC. Where were Rachel, Al and Sunny? All gone, the best friends she'd ever had. They should have been here to witness their other two best friends celebrate their love. It was one of life's cruel ironies that people could just fade from your life so easily, when they'd once been such a huge part of it.

One thing Lauren did appreciate about the ceremony: the actual marriage sacrament, as the Catholics called it. It required no effort at all, just a repeat-after-me recitation of prescribed vows; if Lauren had to think up what she wanted to say to Joe, how much she loved him and what this day meant to her, she would have been barely coherent through her sobs. In any case, she wanted to save those words for when they were alone together; she had no desire to air them in front of so many people she didn't know.

She could have married Joe at City Hall and run straight to a hotel room for their wedding night; even her parents had married that way, and wouldn't have minded so much as long as they were there to see it. No, this ceremony was for Joe's family, who, to her shock, had paid for the entire day. As generous as that was, she couldn't help feeling resentful that she had to do her part now, had to parade herself in front of them and all of their friends, the strange little half-Japanese girl who'd entranced their Tyrolean son. 

She knew her parents weren't thrilled about it either, but they cooperated for her sake. They knew exactly what Joe's parents hinted at when they lamented that Joe had never played the field, never dated any of the many beautiful, Catholic, Italian girls that had frequented Notre Dame high school; when they beamed with pride over their older son Johnny and his Italian princess, Valeria, now a size 16 after already squeezing out two boys to continue their pure bloodline (Attilio and Ludovico, dear God, how were they going to live that down in the schoolyard?) They knew Joe's parents quietly blamed them for enabling her to seduce him, to lure him into premarital sex with the easy lack of responsibility that came with contraception, as if Johnny had never gotten around, never secretly went to the drug store to pick up condoms. 

One thing she did agree with Joe's parents on, though, was this: Joe was pure. He was innocent. He was beautiful and without guile, and even if she might have sullied him, they should at least have been proud of her for staying with him in the ten years since that first deflowering, for loving him enough to marry him now.

God, the marriage preparation course had been such a chore. The church made all engaged couples do it, and Lauren wondered spitefully if it was meant to give brides-to-be one last opportunity to bolt. She'd certainly considered it while having to nod and pretend to agree with their constant admonitions about sex, as if sex were all marriage was about; to pretend to be interested in their rhythm method of contraception, the paltry offering that was supposed to stop children from coming but wouldn't be feasible in the everyday world of work and other distractions. The only valuable information she'd gotten from the course was the information about effective communication and about financial planning. That, at least, was practical.

Roma Hall was the venue for the reception, just down the street. In her childhood it had been one of those places she'd fantasized about. Joe had told her his family went there for banquets and seasonal celebrations of significance to Italians, and she'd always wondered what it looked like on the inside. When they'd toured it for the first time, without there being any question of other choices of venue because Joe's family was paying for it, she'd decided it was pretty fucking awesome, especially after tasting samples of the dishes on offer for the reception. 

She'd also found it exciting that there was a bridal suite at the top of a curving wooden staircase from the banquet hall. She and Joe would be spending their wedding night there. Just the thought of it sent tingles down her spine. They would leave early, and, while everyone was still partying away downstairs, they would be rutting vigorously just up the stairs and on the other side of a door; anybody at all would be able to hear the noises they made if they climbed those stairs. Was this where her exhibitionist side developed, to be given full expression, seventeen years later, over the Internet to a laptop viewed by two of her reunited friends?

She ate everything the white-shirted, black-vested wait staff put in front of her. She was not going to be an anorexic bride, not when the food was this delicious. It reminded her again of that ten year dinner, only one level up from that, and she enjoyed it all. She even playfully ate a sausage, making sure Joe was watching, and she was sure he'd never watched anyone eat a sausage like that before now. Even though he ate, this cuisine was nothing new to him, and she could tell what he was really hungry for was her.

She turned to Joanie and said, "How are you liking everything?"

"Oh, my God!" Joanie groaned. "I've never eaten so much in my life. I'm not going to fit in this dress tomorrow."

"The one consolation is you won't have to wear it tomorrow."

"I will if I go home with someone tonight. There are a lot of hot guys here."

Lauren shrugged. "Sure."

"So, what Joe said in his speech was true? You've been together since you were kids?"

Lauren smiled. "I met him when I was twelve and had just moved to the neighbourhood."

"So... does that mean you were each other's first time?"

She could have told her about Rachel, but she didn't know if that counted. "Yes."

"And you've never dated anyone else?"

"Are you implying I'm going to regret not having more lovers?" she said jokingly to mask her irritation.

"No, of course not!" Joanie said unconvincingly. "So, he's never wanted anyone else?"

"No." She was confident about this, but then again she didn't have access to the inside of Joe's head.

"When Joe mentioned those other friends of yours, I noticed you teared up a bit."

Lauren sighed, partly in relief that she'd changed her line of questioning, partly in sadness. "Rachel, Al and Sunny. We all lived on the same street, just a couple of blocks away from here."

"Yeah, Lawrence Street, right? That detective club thing sounds like it was pretty cool. I can see why you're interested in investigative work."

"Yeah. It was Rachel's brainchild. Rachel was my best friend. When she moved away, my whole world came crashing down."

Joanie's face softened. "She should be sitting where I'm sitting, shouldn't she."

Lauren nodded. "I hope you're not offended."

"Nah. I was surprised you asked me, honestly, but I'm happy you did."

"Me too. You made a nice compliment to Johnny, both nice and tall. I'm sure you'll get lucky tonight if you want to. I've always loved your hair."

"Oh!" she self-consciously touched her fiery locks. "Thanks. Definitely Irish blood there."

Joe and Lauren cut the cake and mashed frosting into the other's face for the camera. Their first dance was to "The Search is Over," by Survivor. Corny, yes, but it said everything about their relationship. She looked like a toddler dancing with her father, her feet on top of his. He could have picked her up and held her in his arms and it probably would have been better, they could see eye to eye at least. This was why they never really slow danced. 

Her dance with her own father looked more even. The song was something Italian that Joe had chosen for his dance with his mom, and she didn't understand the lyrics. It didn't matter. It was just something to get out of the way, awkward, because her father never danced, and this was unnatural for both of them. When the next dance brought in Joanie and Johnny, Johnny's wife Valeria smouldered at them from where she sat, very aware of how pretty Joanie was and how her own body had filled out after two kids. To Johnny's credit, he didn't hold Joanie too close. He wasn't much to look at anymore, either, long removed from his basketball star days, too much sitting in bulldozers and front-end loaders, not enough grunt labour. Joanie would do much better tonight.

Joanie caught the bouquet, and Lauren was glad, but again it should have been Rachel. It wasn't long before she was dancing with a procession of eligible bachelors.

The time came when, as if through some couple's telepathy, she and Joe decided to make their escape. Lauren wished she could just slip out without saying anything, but Joe, ever the good son, let his parents know, and then another odd tradition played itself out where the entire crowd of guests organized itself into a tunnel, with participants on either side forming the arch above them with their interlocked hands. Joe and Lauren were meant to walk through this, but Joe had a hell of a time trying to duck under the hands because he towered over everyone in the room, and it took forever because almost everyone wanted to shake hands or hug again, even though they'd had a greeting line earlier in the evening. Lauren received more than a few lecherous feels from drunken men in the guise of hugs, and she just wanted it to be over.

Near to last, as Lauren hugged her mother and father goodnight, she caught sight of Joanie after losing her for a while and wanted to thank her one last time for filling a role she knew was never meant for her. As she went to her, though, she found that Joe had gotten to her first.

"Thank you, Joanie," he said, wrapping his arms around her. Unlike most of the guests, though, she wasn't engulfed by him. Lauren could actually see Joanie's head peeking over Joe's shoulder, and her hands even met around his back, another rare thing. "I didn't get the chance to thank you before, but you were a good friend to Lauren when she needed it, and that made her day special, and I can't thank you enough."

"You're welcome," Joanie almost coughed out, because Joe was squeezing her maybe a little harder than he should have; had he drunk a little too much? Lauren hoped not, because he still had to perform tonight, and she wouldn't tolerate him falling asleep in a drunken stupor in the middle of the action. "Congratulations, you two."

Lauren couldn't tell if Joanie's closed eyes were a wince of pain or a swoon of pleasure; Lauren couldn't see the rest of Joanie's face to tell. The hug was lasting a little too long, though, and the other guests were starting to notice.

Finally they separated, and Lauren got her own chance to hug Joanie. "Sorry about that," she said. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, not at all," Joanie said, maybe a little too dreamily. "You're a lucky girl."

Lauren thought about what she'd said after they reached the end of the tunnel with Joe's parents, and after they climbed the stairs to their bridal suite, a velvet rope now blocking the staircase with a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from it. She was a lucky girl.

And when they closed the door behind them, and she unzipped his pants and saw that he was already springing out for her, and that his performance would not be at all affected, she knew she was a very lucky girl indeed.

Thanks for reading this far! If you liked what you read so far, hit "Vote" and leave a comment. To get back to Al and Lauren, and now Sunny, in the present day, hit "Continue reading."