"Well, look at you," John said as he saw Boris exit the hallway in a tuxedo; John continued, "who knew you clean up so well?"
"Nobody ever bothered to ask," Boris said, shrugging, "where's the girls?"
"They left already," John said, "and I've gotta get there soon if I'm officiate this thing properly. It'll be a nice change of pace, doing a wedding and not a funeral. Too many funerals. I don't think people are meant to attend as many funerals as priests have to."
Boris stood still as John approached him and reached out, adjusting his tie.
"I never could do that right," Boris said.
"Well, good thing you have me then, isn't it?" John replied, patting him on the face. Together, the men exited the apartment and headed down the hall towards the parking lot. Once in the complex's parking lot, they stood and looked at one another before John asked, "Separate cars?"
"Yeah, but I'll need a ride home," Boris said.
"I can manage that," John said.
Boris got into Polly's gremlin, while John got into his car, and they both pulled out of their respective spaces, heading towards the outdoor venue Ellen was having her wedding. All things considered, Boris couldn't honestly believe he was going to get to see his daughter get married. He was so grateful that she had managed to move the wedding up just for his sake, and he wanted to thank her repeatedly for this chance to witness the happiest day of her life. Boris eventually pulled up to the outdoor venue - a small plot of pretty land near a beautiful house that was rented out just for the occasion, mostly for the after party - and parked. As he exited the car, he heard someone talk from behind him.
"Well look at you," Lorraine said, and Boris turned to see her, smiling.
"Look at me," he said, approaching her. She was wearing a black dress and long white gloves, her hair done up in a bun, as she leaned against her car and smoked. Boris leaned against her and she handed him her cigarette, which he took. Cancer was no longer a threat he figured, considering he'd be gone long before it could show its face.
"I don't think I've seen you in a tuxedo since...since Polly's funeral," Lorraine said, "and before that, our wedding."
"I never had much of a reason to wear one," Boris replied, shrugging as he handed her her cigarette back.
"You gonna wear one to your funeral?" Lorraine asked, and Boris smirked.
"Nah, figured I'd just turn up in a bathrobe and slippers, I mean, let's face it, who would judge me at that point?" Boris asked. Lorraine laughed, then linked arms with him and, together, they headed towards the house on the little hill. As they passed by numerous folks, mostly people they didn't know - friends of Ellen or Ellen's fiance - Boris couldn't help but feel a little guilty for having people he did know here. Ellen had told him to invite anyone he wanted, hence why Whittle and Jenn were coming, but the only other people Boris had invited were Melody and Carol, and he hadn't seen either one yet.
"You remember all the planning that went into our wedding?" Lorraine asked, "We spent months on the most minor decisions; tableclothe colors, what kind of fucking silverware to use. And for what? For one single day? In all honesty, by the time you're our age, you barely remember the day, so was it really worth it?"
"Yes," Boris said, surprising her, "yes, it was. It was important for that moment, because in that moment, all that matters is that moment. I regret a lot in my life, but I don't regret marrying you, even if I wasn't exactly the best husband, and even if I denied myself who I was."
Lorraine stopped and looked at Boris as he held her hands, massaging the tops of them gently with his thumbs.
"You had a big hand in making me who I am," Boris said quietly, "and I'm grateful for that. I just wish I could've done better for you."
"You did the best you could, Boris," Lorraine said, kissing his cheek, "and that's more than most men ever did."
Lorraine then excused herself to go see Ellen, to admire her wedding dress, while Boris stood there and watched. He took a long, deep breath of the fresh air and he smiled. What a beautiful day for a wedding. He felt weak, tired, but he was happy he was here. Suddenly he felt the presence of someone else and looked to his side to see Carol there, in a beautiful light blue shoulderless dress.
"Wow," Boris said, "don't we look fancy?"
But Carol didn't respond. Boris cocked his head and looked at her a little more closely. She seemed to just be staring absentmindedly into the view ahead. After a long moment, Carol finally sighed and looked towards Boris.
"Any conversation I have with you could be the last," Carol finally said, "and that...that finality, it didn't used to bother me. As I got older, I recognized that, at any given moment - especially in the home - someone I considered a friend could go, and that would be that. But you're not just a friend, Boris, you're like...like family. Seeing these people gather here to celebrate a new life, a marriage, a journey...just makes me wistful, I suppose."
Boris nodded and put his arm through Carol's, walking further into the area with her.
"Well," Boris said, "if this is the last conversation we ever have, then I just hope it doesn't end with you telling me you hate me."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll get that in well before the end," Carol said, smirking, "but doesn't that scare you? To know that today could be it? Or tomorrow?"
"Of course it does," Boris replied, "but I can't let it consume me. The minute it consumes me is the minute it wins, and you can't let death win. He already wins in the long run, don't give him an extra inch."
Carol nodded, laying her head on his shoulder as they walked past a crowd and stopped near a snack table. Boris could see John speaking with Ellen and her fiance, and he smiled to himself. Carol pulled away from Boris and started investigating the snack table.
"Finger sandwiches," she said, "...fuck. How does one have a final conversation?"
"We don't need to. What do you need to prepare for closure for? Just assume there'll be another," Boris said.
Boris watched as Ellen walked away, into the house, and he excused himself, saying he'd be back shortly, and began to follow Ellen into the house. Once inside, he slipped past some people talking, eating, enjoying themselves, his eyes scanning the space for his daughter. Boris headed down the hallway and then backed up, stopping at a bathroom door. He could hear rough breathing inside. Boris opened the door, slid inside and shut it behind him, only to find Ellen sitting on the side of the bathtub, panicking.
"What's all this about?" Boris asked.
"What if I do it wrong?" Ellen asked, looking up at her father, "you did it wrong, I'm your offspring, what if I'm just as bad?"
Boris chuckled, then painfully seated himself on the bathtub side alongside her.
"You can't do worse than me, that's a guarantee," Boris said, "but more important than that...you won't. The difference is generational. When your mother and I got married, we both hid a lot of things about ourselves, things we'd much rather have followed, because society expected us to be coupled, to have a child, to be a family. That's not something you have to worry about. It's a new era. New rules. Look at Whittle. She was living that life. She had a longtime boyfriend, a whole career, and now look at her. Night and day. Happier than ever before. Because she took the risk, knew the reward was worth the effort, and found that, in the end, nobody really cared as long as she was happy."
Ellen looked at her father and smiled, resting her head against his arm.
"I'm just scared," she said, "I don't wanna mess up."
"You won't," Boris said, kissing the side of her head, "I promise."
***
"Weddings make me all weepy," Jenn said as she and Whittle sat at a nearby outside picnic table, drinking, watching everyone; she took another bite off her skewer and added, "I know it's so cliche, call me a stereotype and a half, but I just think it's beautiful."
"I wouldn't call you a stereotype, not for that anyway," Whittle replied, winking at her, making her giggle. Whittle exhaled, "honestly...they make me a little nervous, if only because I came so close to being married before. To doing the heteronormative thing and settling for less than mediocre. To think...I wouldn't have met you had I done that. Or maybe I would've, and we would've have an affair."
"That's way hotter," Jenn said, making Whittle laugh.
Whittle, in a sense, saw a lot of herself in Boris's daughter, and realized now why she and Boris had gotten along so well in the end, because in a way...she was a kind of surrogate, just as Chrissy had been. Different daughters of differing ages, all meant to let him be the father he'd failed to be before. Whittle didn't mind that, however, having had a strained relationship with her own parents, she was more than happy to step into those shoes. And suddenly...tears were on her face. Jenn reached across the table and held her hand.
"What is it?" Jenn asked.
"He's going to die," Whittle whispered, "he's going to die and we're fucking celebrating."
"A part of him won't," Jenn said, "she'll keep going, she'll have a whole life. In a way, he's vicariously living through her. She's getting to do the thing he always wanted to, and that's beautiful."
Whittle hadn't considered it from that angle before. Jenn had a point. Whittle lifted her glass to her lips, then looked around.
"Where's John?" she asked.
***
"Open your palm," Boris said, and Ellen did just that; Boris fished into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box, opening the lid and revealing a ring. Ellen gasped, her eyes widening.
"That is beautiful," she said softly.
"It is," Boris said, "it belonged to my best friend. She gave it to me right before she died, said she wanted me to pawn it, but I never could. I figured I would keep it for myself, eventually be buried with it. But...once you told me you were getting married, I decided the next best thing would be to give it to you. It won't replace the ring you have, of course, but...it'd mean a lot to me if you'd take it. Polly, she...she had the guts to do what you're doing, to be herself, and in our generation that was gutsy, but she didn't get the happy ending she deserved. I want her to, and this way she will."
Ellen held out her hand, spreading her fingers so Boris could slide it onto one of her fingers. He then held her hand, very gently, and smiled at the ring.
"She told me she used to think the best thing in life was sharing it with other people, but later on she thought the best thing in life is sharing it with the right people. Not just anyone, but someone in particular. Someone who really understands you and gets what you're all about. Not just someone who happens to be in the same vicinity as you. That's why so many marriages of my generation failed, because people married for the sake of not being lonely. After all, what good even is a life if you didn't actually live it?" Boris said, and Ellen nodded, crying, leaning in and hugging her father, Boris rubbing her back.
After a few moments, Ellen said she had to fix her makeup, and Boris stood up, exiting the bathroom. Once he closed the bathroom door behind him, finding himself back in the hallway, he bumped into someone and immediately recognized it was John.
"Oh, didn't know you were in the house," John said, "we're about ready to get started. Is she ready?"
"She will be," Boris said, "walk with me."
John and Boris turned and, together, side by side, walked throughout the house and back out onto the patio, overlooking the party. From this vantage point, Boris could see the altar and he felt his eyes water.
"I wish I could find my prayer beads," John said, shaking his head, "it's been months at this point, almost a year it seems like. Ridiculous. I always hold them when I officiate stuff, and...and to not have them makes me feel so...naked."
"Well just imagine everyone else is naked," Boris said, "you'll be fine."
John chuckled and patted Boris on the back.
"A life begins," Boris said, "and another ends. That's the cycle, right?"
"That's the cycle," John said, "I have to get down there."
Boris nodded, as John walked off. Boris stayed there for a bit, then noticed Melody, in the parking lot, sitting on the curb, just watching from afar. Boris headed back down the stairs, back out of the house and across the yard. As he approached, she waved politely at him, and he groaned as he sat down beside her.
"You don't like weddings?" he asked.
"Eh," Melody said, "I...I was married."
"Really? Now that's not information I was privy to," Boris said.
"Well, it's not really something I like to discuss," Melody said, shrugging.
"Listen," Boris said, digging into his other coat pocket, "your car is totaled. Once you feel ready to drive again, you're gonna need a new set of wheels. I want you to have this."
Boris pushed a pair of car keys, Polly's Gremlins car keys, into Melody's hand. She looked down at them, confused, before looking back up at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Go places with it, take it everywhere," Boris said, "the woman who owned it, she didn't get to do a whole lot. I think she'd be happy to know her car is out there, having adventures. And, like you, she refused to take any bullshit, so I think it just makes sense you have it. I'm not gonna need a car where I'm goin'."
Melody nodded slowly, and then hugged him. Boris hugged her back, and patted her on the shoulder. After this, Boris got back up and headed back to the main lawn where the ceremony was already underway. Ellen and Miranda at the forefront, John between them, speaking. Boris shuffled quietly through the crowd until he found a seat right beside Carol, and plopped himself down. Carol leaned into him, her voice low.
"You do what you had to do?" Carol asked.
"Yep," Boris said.
"Do you remember when Mr. Henderson died?" Carol asked, and Boris nodded; she cleared her throat and continued, "you immediately wanted to move into his room, the room of a dead man! His body had been cold less than 8 hours and you wanted to live in his room. I thought you were crazy. But...that's the thing, Boris, you've never run from death. You've embraced it from the start. That's admirable. I see it now. I mean, you weren't rushing out, hoping it'd take you next or anything, but you also didn't shy away from it. When Polly bit it, that shook you, but you still soldiered on, for her. That's what I'm gonna do. Soldier on. For you."
Boris turned and looked at her, and Carol smiled.
"How's that for a final conversation?" she asked, and he smiled, nodding.
"You did good," he said.
***
John did, as he said he would, give Boris a ride home.
Driving through the dark, the only light the ones on the street and the traffic lamps, Boris could feel himself shaking. His leg, specifically. He felt weak. They came to a red light and stopped, waiting for the traffic to continue. Boris rolled his head and looked towards John.
"It was a beautiful ceremony," John said, "Ellen looked so happy. Just...joyous."
"I'd hope so, given the circumstances," Boris replied, his voice weak and soft.
The light changed and John continued driving.
"John," Boris said, "...don't go home. I need to go somewhere first."
John looked at Boris.
"I need to go to chuch," Boris said.
"Nobody ever bothered to ask," Boris said, shrugging, "where's the girls?"
"They left already," John said, "and I've gotta get there soon if I'm officiate this thing properly. It'll be a nice change of pace, doing a wedding and not a funeral. Too many funerals. I don't think people are meant to attend as many funerals as priests have to."
Boris stood still as John approached him and reached out, adjusting his tie.
"I never could do that right," Boris said.
"Well, good thing you have me then, isn't it?" John replied, patting him on the face. Together, the men exited the apartment and headed down the hall towards the parking lot. Once in the complex's parking lot, they stood and looked at one another before John asked, "Separate cars?"
"Yeah, but I'll need a ride home," Boris said.
"I can manage that," John said.
Boris got into Polly's gremlin, while John got into his car, and they both pulled out of their respective spaces, heading towards the outdoor venue Ellen was having her wedding. All things considered, Boris couldn't honestly believe he was going to get to see his daughter get married. He was so grateful that she had managed to move the wedding up just for his sake, and he wanted to thank her repeatedly for this chance to witness the happiest day of her life. Boris eventually pulled up to the outdoor venue - a small plot of pretty land near a beautiful house that was rented out just for the occasion, mostly for the after party - and parked. As he exited the car, he heard someone talk from behind him.
"Well look at you," Lorraine said, and Boris turned to see her, smiling.
"Look at me," he said, approaching her. She was wearing a black dress and long white gloves, her hair done up in a bun, as she leaned against her car and smoked. Boris leaned against her and she handed him her cigarette, which he took. Cancer was no longer a threat he figured, considering he'd be gone long before it could show its face.
"I don't think I've seen you in a tuxedo since...since Polly's funeral," Lorraine said, "and before that, our wedding."
"I never had much of a reason to wear one," Boris replied, shrugging as he handed her her cigarette back.
"You gonna wear one to your funeral?" Lorraine asked, and Boris smirked.
"Nah, figured I'd just turn up in a bathrobe and slippers, I mean, let's face it, who would judge me at that point?" Boris asked. Lorraine laughed, then linked arms with him and, together, they headed towards the house on the little hill. As they passed by numerous folks, mostly people they didn't know - friends of Ellen or Ellen's fiance - Boris couldn't help but feel a little guilty for having people he did know here. Ellen had told him to invite anyone he wanted, hence why Whittle and Jenn were coming, but the only other people Boris had invited were Melody and Carol, and he hadn't seen either one yet.
"You remember all the planning that went into our wedding?" Lorraine asked, "We spent months on the most minor decisions; tableclothe colors, what kind of fucking silverware to use. And for what? For one single day? In all honesty, by the time you're our age, you barely remember the day, so was it really worth it?"
"Yes," Boris said, surprising her, "yes, it was. It was important for that moment, because in that moment, all that matters is that moment. I regret a lot in my life, but I don't regret marrying you, even if I wasn't exactly the best husband, and even if I denied myself who I was."
Lorraine stopped and looked at Boris as he held her hands, massaging the tops of them gently with his thumbs.
"You had a big hand in making me who I am," Boris said quietly, "and I'm grateful for that. I just wish I could've done better for you."
"You did the best you could, Boris," Lorraine said, kissing his cheek, "and that's more than most men ever did."
Lorraine then excused herself to go see Ellen, to admire her wedding dress, while Boris stood there and watched. He took a long, deep breath of the fresh air and he smiled. What a beautiful day for a wedding. He felt weak, tired, but he was happy he was here. Suddenly he felt the presence of someone else and looked to his side to see Carol there, in a beautiful light blue shoulderless dress.
"Wow," Boris said, "don't we look fancy?"
But Carol didn't respond. Boris cocked his head and looked at her a little more closely. She seemed to just be staring absentmindedly into the view ahead. After a long moment, Carol finally sighed and looked towards Boris.
"Any conversation I have with you could be the last," Carol finally said, "and that...that finality, it didn't used to bother me. As I got older, I recognized that, at any given moment - especially in the home - someone I considered a friend could go, and that would be that. But you're not just a friend, Boris, you're like...like family. Seeing these people gather here to celebrate a new life, a marriage, a journey...just makes me wistful, I suppose."
Boris nodded and put his arm through Carol's, walking further into the area with her.
"Well," Boris said, "if this is the last conversation we ever have, then I just hope it doesn't end with you telling me you hate me."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll get that in well before the end," Carol said, smirking, "but doesn't that scare you? To know that today could be it? Or tomorrow?"
"Of course it does," Boris replied, "but I can't let it consume me. The minute it consumes me is the minute it wins, and you can't let death win. He already wins in the long run, don't give him an extra inch."
Carol nodded, laying her head on his shoulder as they walked past a crowd and stopped near a snack table. Boris could see John speaking with Ellen and her fiance, and he smiled to himself. Carol pulled away from Boris and started investigating the snack table.
"Finger sandwiches," she said, "...fuck. How does one have a final conversation?"
"We don't need to. What do you need to prepare for closure for? Just assume there'll be another," Boris said.
Boris watched as Ellen walked away, into the house, and he excused himself, saying he'd be back shortly, and began to follow Ellen into the house. Once inside, he slipped past some people talking, eating, enjoying themselves, his eyes scanning the space for his daughter. Boris headed down the hallway and then backed up, stopping at a bathroom door. He could hear rough breathing inside. Boris opened the door, slid inside and shut it behind him, only to find Ellen sitting on the side of the bathtub, panicking.
"What's all this about?" Boris asked.
"What if I do it wrong?" Ellen asked, looking up at her father, "you did it wrong, I'm your offspring, what if I'm just as bad?"
Boris chuckled, then painfully seated himself on the bathtub side alongside her.
"You can't do worse than me, that's a guarantee," Boris said, "but more important than that...you won't. The difference is generational. When your mother and I got married, we both hid a lot of things about ourselves, things we'd much rather have followed, because society expected us to be coupled, to have a child, to be a family. That's not something you have to worry about. It's a new era. New rules. Look at Whittle. She was living that life. She had a longtime boyfriend, a whole career, and now look at her. Night and day. Happier than ever before. Because she took the risk, knew the reward was worth the effort, and found that, in the end, nobody really cared as long as she was happy."
Ellen looked at her father and smiled, resting her head against his arm.
"I'm just scared," she said, "I don't wanna mess up."
"You won't," Boris said, kissing the side of her head, "I promise."
***
"Weddings make me all weepy," Jenn said as she and Whittle sat at a nearby outside picnic table, drinking, watching everyone; she took another bite off her skewer and added, "I know it's so cliche, call me a stereotype and a half, but I just think it's beautiful."
"I wouldn't call you a stereotype, not for that anyway," Whittle replied, winking at her, making her giggle. Whittle exhaled, "honestly...they make me a little nervous, if only because I came so close to being married before. To doing the heteronormative thing and settling for less than mediocre. To think...I wouldn't have met you had I done that. Or maybe I would've, and we would've have an affair."
"That's way hotter," Jenn said, making Whittle laugh.
Whittle, in a sense, saw a lot of herself in Boris's daughter, and realized now why she and Boris had gotten along so well in the end, because in a way...she was a kind of surrogate, just as Chrissy had been. Different daughters of differing ages, all meant to let him be the father he'd failed to be before. Whittle didn't mind that, however, having had a strained relationship with her own parents, she was more than happy to step into those shoes. And suddenly...tears were on her face. Jenn reached across the table and held her hand.
"What is it?" Jenn asked.
"He's going to die," Whittle whispered, "he's going to die and we're fucking celebrating."
"A part of him won't," Jenn said, "she'll keep going, she'll have a whole life. In a way, he's vicariously living through her. She's getting to do the thing he always wanted to, and that's beautiful."
Whittle hadn't considered it from that angle before. Jenn had a point. Whittle lifted her glass to her lips, then looked around.
"Where's John?" she asked.
***
"Open your palm," Boris said, and Ellen did just that; Boris fished into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box, opening the lid and revealing a ring. Ellen gasped, her eyes widening.
"That is beautiful," she said softly.
"It is," Boris said, "it belonged to my best friend. She gave it to me right before she died, said she wanted me to pawn it, but I never could. I figured I would keep it for myself, eventually be buried with it. But...once you told me you were getting married, I decided the next best thing would be to give it to you. It won't replace the ring you have, of course, but...it'd mean a lot to me if you'd take it. Polly, she...she had the guts to do what you're doing, to be herself, and in our generation that was gutsy, but she didn't get the happy ending she deserved. I want her to, and this way she will."
Ellen held out her hand, spreading her fingers so Boris could slide it onto one of her fingers. He then held her hand, very gently, and smiled at the ring.
"She told me she used to think the best thing in life was sharing it with other people, but later on she thought the best thing in life is sharing it with the right people. Not just anyone, but someone in particular. Someone who really understands you and gets what you're all about. Not just someone who happens to be in the same vicinity as you. That's why so many marriages of my generation failed, because people married for the sake of not being lonely. After all, what good even is a life if you didn't actually live it?" Boris said, and Ellen nodded, crying, leaning in and hugging her father, Boris rubbing her back.
After a few moments, Ellen said she had to fix her makeup, and Boris stood up, exiting the bathroom. Once he closed the bathroom door behind him, finding himself back in the hallway, he bumped into someone and immediately recognized it was John.
"Oh, didn't know you were in the house," John said, "we're about ready to get started. Is she ready?"
"She will be," Boris said, "walk with me."
John and Boris turned and, together, side by side, walked throughout the house and back out onto the patio, overlooking the party. From this vantage point, Boris could see the altar and he felt his eyes water.
"I wish I could find my prayer beads," John said, shaking his head, "it's been months at this point, almost a year it seems like. Ridiculous. I always hold them when I officiate stuff, and...and to not have them makes me feel so...naked."
"Well just imagine everyone else is naked," Boris said, "you'll be fine."
John chuckled and patted Boris on the back.
"A life begins," Boris said, "and another ends. That's the cycle, right?"
"That's the cycle," John said, "I have to get down there."
Boris nodded, as John walked off. Boris stayed there for a bit, then noticed Melody, in the parking lot, sitting on the curb, just watching from afar. Boris headed back down the stairs, back out of the house and across the yard. As he approached, she waved politely at him, and he groaned as he sat down beside her.
"You don't like weddings?" he asked.
"Eh," Melody said, "I...I was married."
"Really? Now that's not information I was privy to," Boris said.
"Well, it's not really something I like to discuss," Melody said, shrugging.
"Listen," Boris said, digging into his other coat pocket, "your car is totaled. Once you feel ready to drive again, you're gonna need a new set of wheels. I want you to have this."
Boris pushed a pair of car keys, Polly's Gremlins car keys, into Melody's hand. She looked down at them, confused, before looking back up at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Go places with it, take it everywhere," Boris said, "the woman who owned it, she didn't get to do a whole lot. I think she'd be happy to know her car is out there, having adventures. And, like you, she refused to take any bullshit, so I think it just makes sense you have it. I'm not gonna need a car where I'm goin'."
Melody nodded slowly, and then hugged him. Boris hugged her back, and patted her on the shoulder. After this, Boris got back up and headed back to the main lawn where the ceremony was already underway. Ellen and Miranda at the forefront, John between them, speaking. Boris shuffled quietly through the crowd until he found a seat right beside Carol, and plopped himself down. Carol leaned into him, her voice low.
"You do what you had to do?" Carol asked.
"Yep," Boris said.
"Do you remember when Mr. Henderson died?" Carol asked, and Boris nodded; she cleared her throat and continued, "you immediately wanted to move into his room, the room of a dead man! His body had been cold less than 8 hours and you wanted to live in his room. I thought you were crazy. But...that's the thing, Boris, you've never run from death. You've embraced it from the start. That's admirable. I see it now. I mean, you weren't rushing out, hoping it'd take you next or anything, but you also didn't shy away from it. When Polly bit it, that shook you, but you still soldiered on, for her. That's what I'm gonna do. Soldier on. For you."
Boris turned and looked at her, and Carol smiled.
"How's that for a final conversation?" she asked, and he smiled, nodding.
"You did good," he said.
***
John did, as he said he would, give Boris a ride home.
Driving through the dark, the only light the ones on the street and the traffic lamps, Boris could feel himself shaking. His leg, specifically. He felt weak. They came to a red light and stopped, waiting for the traffic to continue. Boris rolled his head and looked towards John.
"It was a beautiful ceremony," John said, "Ellen looked so happy. Just...joyous."
"I'd hope so, given the circumstances," Boris replied, his voice weak and soft.
The light changed and John continued driving.
"John," Boris said, "...don't go home. I need to go somewhere first."
John looked at Boris.
"I need to go to chuch," Boris said.