Otherwise Engaged
Katherine Gaffney
I鈥檝e planned a wedding with half a guest list, but all the booze & salmon filets to feed both halves, invited and yet to be. The invitation reads: We, Katherine and yet to be found invite you to join us in celebrating our love and union on Saturday, the 18th of April, 2020. The date sounded futuristic enough to give me time to find someone to fill in the 鈥測et to be found鈥 position. No Save the Dates were sent for it felt like tempting fate. Many calls rang in as these hand- calligraphed, hand-delivered envelopes were uncovered in mailboxes. Who is yet to be found? Will you take his name? Found? To be found? Sounds exotic. When do we get to meet him? As soon as I鈥檝e found him or her; I鈥檝e yet to decide. Some white lies were crafted for cake tasters; about my fianc茅(e) being out of the country or having a severe gluten intolerance to where (s)he can eat it, but can鈥檛 be around the raw, uncooked flour. The florist understood well enough my spouse-to-be鈥檚 rare allergy to cut stems, satisfied by being strong enough to work in such a hazardous environment. Peonies, peach and mahogany. Peach for my cheeks, mahogany for my spouse-to-be鈥檚 eyes; it seemed statistically plausible. I found an observatory with light coming from all sides for the ceremony, to light the tear I know will fall as our hands join, found the angle I鈥檇 face so friends and family will see it like a little jewel glued to my cheek. I divulge to my pet rabbit, who of course will be Instagrammably incorporated as the ring bearer and flower girl in one, my preemptive planning, her gnashing expresses worry, as I鈥檝e learned to decode from years of cohabitation. I explain that weddings are always spectacle, always planned by the bride, masked as ceremony and celebration representative of the relationship up until that point, turn, step, but it鈥檚 all a spell we tell ourselves about the occasion. Really I鈥檓 saving him or her time, pain, time. In the end, (s)he鈥檒l be grateful that all (s)he has to do is find a tux or dress, slip on or lace up and walk down the aisle.
Katherine Gaffney completed her MFA at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and is currently working on her PhD at the University of Southern Mississippi. Her work has previously appeared in jubilat, Harpur Palate, Mississippi Review, Meridian, and elsewhere. She has attended the Tin House鈥檚 Summer Writing Workshop, the SAFTA Residency, and the Sewanee Writer鈥檚 Conference as a scholar. Her first chapbook, Once Read as Ruin, was published at Finishing Line Press.