Double-Barrelled Shotgun Wedding

It was a dark and rainy Saturday evening in mid-August. Marvin and I were on our fourth bottle of Casillero Del Diablo Reserve Carmenere. Our lively conversation had entered a lull and we sat there, on the kitchen floor, pondering over the intricacies of life to the sound of pouring rain and the distant rumble of thunder. Taking a large gulp from his glass, Marvin looked at me, his mouth quivering, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m lonely. So lonely,” he said. I nodded and we both burst into tears.

Marvin and I had been bachelors for most of our lives. The fact of the matter was that we were a little intimidated by women. No, that’s not true. We were scared to death of them. But on the kitchen floor, on that night, we vowed to each other that we would no longer be frightened and alone. We would both be married within a year. We wiped our eyes, drank to our new fortitude, and chatted and laughed until the early hours of the morning.

Nine months later, I found myself laying in bed, next to my new wife, unable to sleep. I thought about Marvin, down the hall in the honeymoon suite, and how he was finding his first night of marriage. I remembered earlier that day, standing at the end of the aisle in a church, Marvin at my side, as twin sisters, Felicity and Chastity Shrub, walked towards us in white gowns. I was sweating profusely, my hands felt clammy, and I wanted to throw up. Marvin on the other hand was calm, strangely calm.
“Look,” he said, noticing how uncomfortable I was. “We made a vow, and we only have three months left. Now come on. It’s now or never.”

Resigning to the fact that sleep wouldn’t come, I headed down to the hotel bar for a night cap. I was surprised to find Marvin there, sitting alone, drinking a whiskey sour.
“Can’t sleep either?” I said, sitting next to him. Marvin didn’t answer. “Hey, what’s up?” I asked and placed my hand on his shoulder. Marvin looked up. He had tears in his eyes, again. Instantly, I was taken back to that night when we made the vow, remembering his quaking voice when he said how lonely he was. Marvin tried to smile but shook his head.
“It’s no good,” he said. “I can’t do this. Tell Felicity that I am sorry.”
I looked into his tear-filled eyes, not fully understanding what he meant.
“I’ll be gone by morning,” he said, and he finished his drink. “I hope you and Chastity have a happy life together. I should have never made that vow,” he said, and he walked towards the elevator.
I sat on my seat for a moment, pondering what he just said, what he was about to do. Part of me wanted to throttle him, but the other part wanted to hug him. I jumped up and ran after Marvin. “Hold the door!” I shouted, as I reached the elevator.
“What is it, old friend?” Marvin asked.
I was panting and out of breath. “I’m coming too,” I managed to say. “I can’t do this either.”
“Good,” replied Marvin, as the elevator doors closed, and a smile formed across his face. “We still have three months.”

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