The old man shrugged. “It was all I could find.” He looked at Loretta and said, “Later he gets you a better ring. This one here is only for the ceremony.”
He handed the ring to Kerrigan. Then he opened a drawer of the table and took out a Bible. As he leafed through the pages, he said, “The price for the ceremony is two dollars and fifty-two cents. That is total price. Two dollars for performing marriage. Fifty cents for license. You will please pay in advance.”
Kerrigan frowned. “What’s the two cents for?”
“I charge two cents for ring,” the old man said. He kept his eyes on the printed text while extending his palm for the money. Then the money was in his hand and he averted his eyes from the Bible just long enough to count the cash. He put the bills and silver in the pocket of his bathrobe, took a firmer grip on the Bible, and said, “Now the bride will stand next to the groom.”
It was three hours later and Kerrigan had his head buried in a pillow. His eyes were shut tightly but he wasn’t asleep. He was trying to grope his way through the fog of an alcoholic stupor. It was apparent to him that he’d consumed an excessive amount of whisky, and now his brain was crammed with a lot of little discs that wouldn’t stop spinning. His skull felt as though it were swollen to many times its normal size. He told himself he was really in sad shape, and wondered how in hell he’d fallen into this condition.
He begged his mind to start working, to give him some information concerning tonight’s events, but his thoughts stumbled along a tricky path leading nowhere.
Then gradually the fog cleared just a little, the discs slowed down, and he realized he was coming out of it. As his brain went into gear, he kept his eyes shut, telling himself not to think about now, not even to take a look and see where he was. What he had to do was straighten the track and follow it very slowly and carefully and bring it up to now.
On the wall of his closed eyelids a light showed and then widened and it became a series of pictures that told him what had happened. He saw himself placing the ring on her finger. Then sound came into it and he heard the old man saying, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” And then the old man was telling him to kiss her. She stood there smiling at him and waiting to be kissed. The old man said, “Go on, kiss her.” He glared at the old man and growled, “Goddamnit, mind your own business.” He heard her saying to the old man, “Please forgive my husband. I think he’s upset about something.”
The pictures continued. He saw himself walking out of the old Greek’s house, and heard her footsteps following. He turned and looked at her and said, “Where d’ya wanna go?” She shrugged and murmured, “It’s up to you.” He said loudly, “I guess we ought to celebrate.” She shrugged again, smiling pleasantly and saying, “Anything you say, dear.” And then the smile faded as she said, “You look as if you need a drink.”
He closed his eyes and saw more pictures. They were in the car and she had it headed down Third Street, then coming up Fourth and arriving on Vernon. She said, “You really need a drink, I know you do.” And then the MG was parked outside Dugan’s Den and they were entering the taproom. The place was empty now and Dugan was getting ready to close up for the night. Loretta put some money in Dugan’s hand and Dugan put a bottle on the bar. She poured the whisky into the jiggers. Then she lifted the glass and proposed a toast. “Here’s to our wedding night,” she said. He lifted his glass, gazed moodily at the amber liquor, then shot it down his throat. Again she tilted the bottle and filled the jiggers. She said, “Another toast. Here’s to my husband.” He looked at her and muttered, “Let’s get out of here. I don’t feel like drinking.” But a moment later he had the glass to his lips and then he was waiting for it to be filled again.