Dead. Vacant. Silent.

Well, except for the glasses Monica keeps clattering next to me.

It happens occasionally. The silence and the vacant bar. There’s no one here. The storm must have kept them all inside tonight which has me relieved because I don’t feel like dealing with a bunch of drunks.

It’s the perfect night for our new waitress to get acquainted with where the glasses and booze are. Kristy and I have also been teaching her how to mix several drinks that customers frequently order–not that Monica will be mixing drinks anytime soon, but it doesn’t hurt for her to know in case I’m swamped one night and she needs to fend for herself.

When Kristy and I showed up at work tonight and saw a timid girl hanging out in the corner before the bar was open, we were shocked, to say the least. Of course, we presumed she was here to “please” Anthony, but to our surprise, she wasn’t.

Anthony waltzed out of his office, told us he hired her, and she was our responsibility so we better make sure she knows how to do her job. Then he left, slamming the front door of the bar behind him, obviously mad that we demanded he hire someone else.

Kristy and I couldn’t believe that he hired someone, but we didn’t dare utter a word, too scared he might let her go if we said thanks.

“So I have an idea,” Kristy waves her hand in front of her like it’s a magic wand, “on this whole wedding thing.”

“Wedding thing?” I chuckle.

“Yeah, you know because it’s just kind of a thing. A stupid piece of paper that binds two people together for eternity. I mean…how silly is that? Can’t people just accept that I say, ‘Hey, this is Jason. He’s mine. Back off.’”

“Are you serious?” I ask, holding back my laughter.

“Yeah.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“Okay, well, how ‘bout you just tell me your idea,” I suggest.

She steps out from behind the bar using the seating area as her stage. “Me,” she points to herself, “in a black dress with a corset and some tulle. Jason in a black button-down shirt and black pants. And get this…we get married…in a cemetery as the sun is setting.”

She stops talking, and I stare at her, wondering when she’s going to tell me she’s joking, but she doesn’t. She stands there waiting for me to tell her how awesome her idea is, but it’s not, it’s totally not.

“One question.” I take a step forward, placing the palms of my hands on the bar and leaning forward. “Do you even like Jason? Because that’s a terrible idea. You had me up until cemetery.”

She pouts, running a hand through her short blonde hair. “I thought it was a nice sentiment like oh hey we’re getting married in the same place we’ll both be buried together. Our life will start and end in the same spot.”

“Creepy.” Monica shudders behind me.

“It’s…a little morbid,” I refute.

It hits a little too close to home for me. The thought of Kristy celebrating love in the same place I’ll be grieving the woman who gave me life. But if this is what she really wants, I’ll support her–no matter how weird it is.

She shrugs her shoulders and moves to sit on a barstool across from me. “I’ve got time to work out the kinks. I had the talk with him. I told him I’d marry him, but on my terms, and that it might not happen for a while.”

“What did he say?” I ask curiously because I know Jason would give her anything she wanted, but I also wonder if he was bummed when she told him them getting married wouldn’t happen for a while.

“He’s cool with it.”

“He said that exactly?”

“Kind of.” She runs a hand down her arm, her bright tattoos a stark contrast to the creamy skin on her hand. “He said as long as he got to marry me he would wait until the day before he died.”

Maybe a cemetery is the perfect place for their wedding. They’re both a little weird, thinking of their wedding in terms of life and death.

“It’s your day, Kristy. Do what makes you happy.” All that matters is she’s happy–that she and Jason get the life they want together.

“Speaking of, did you finally get laid because you’ve been in an oddly good mood. Less sarcastic and angry.” She wags her eyebrows with a gleam in her eyes.

With a blank expression, I say, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me, it’s written across your face.” She leans closer, poking me in the shoulder with her pointer finger. “I can see straight through you.”

“Is that so?” I ask flatly.

“Yep, and even if I couldn’t, that hickey on your neck sure as shit gives you away.” My mouth falls open, gasping as both my hands fly to either side of my neck, heat rushing to my face. Kristy laughs, the sound booming through the empty room. “I’m lying. You don’t have a hickey, but thanks for confirming my suspicion.”

“Evil woman,” I growl at her.

She composes herself long enough to say, “Evil genius.”

I wave her off as she laughs, focusing my attention on Monica, who has learned more about Kristy and me than she has about being a waitress. “Let’s get away from the crazy lady, and I’ll show you how to make a Pineapple Upside-Down Cake shot. It’s my favorite.”

Monica nods her head, staring wearily at Kristy as she laughs so hard tears begin streaming down her face. I roll my eyes and direct Monica to the other side of the bar, leaving Kristy to her own devices.

The rest of the night is quiet, not a soul stepping foot in the door. Kristy and I laugh more than I have in the last year. I revel in the blissful feeling, sensing it won’t last longer than the night.