Mick is one of my closest and dearest friends. I met him when I went to work for Cities Service Oil Company and we both knew each other during our first wives. I went skiing the first time with Mick, had fun with him and I’ve fought with him, just like a brother. When he asked me to be the best man at his wedding, I naturally said yes.
Mick and Ginette had been a number for quite a while and the time had finally arrived for them to marry. I was to be Mick’s best man and Anne was Ginette’s first lady. Mick and Gin lived near our house, in a condo in
“Mick’s running late and still at work,” she said. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
Anne and I were both dressed for a wedding and I felt uncomfortable waiting for Mick as I drank beer in my suit and tie. An hour passed with no word from Mick. This was in the days before the cell phone and there was no way for Gin to call him. When another hour passed, Gin began to cry.
“I knew he would never marry me. He’s probably out drinking with his buddies, not even worried about getting married. Tomorrow he’ll have some lame excuse.”
“He’ll be here,” I said.
“How do you know?” Gin asked.
“Because I know Mick,” I said with my tongue firmly in cheek.
Anne put her hands on Gin’s shoulders to console her, a task that became even harder as yet another hour passed. Finally, we heard the key in the front door and Mick stumbled in. Yes, he had been drinking and he had a resolute expression on his face.
“Sorry guys,” he said. “I just had to think about awhile.”
“And what did you decide?” I asked.
“I don’t think we’re ready for marriage yet. I’m calling it off.”
By this time, I was mad. “The hell you are,” I said. “Get your suit on. I’ll call the limo and tell them you finally showed up.”
“Eric –“
“Don’t Eric me. Get your suit on. We’ve been waiting almost three hours and by God you’re going to get married, and I mean tonight. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I must have been persuasive because Mick returned from the bedroom dressed in suit and tie – just in time as the limo driver was knocking on the door.
Mick had found a marriage chapel, really the home of Reverend Sweeney, in an older neighborhood of
“Sorry we’re late,” I said. “We had a few problems.”
“Quite all right,” he said.
Reverend Sweeney led us to the back yard where he had a rose garden and an arbor decorated with flowers. Oh, and it was a full moon that night. As late as we were, it was at its zenith and beautifully full. Mick and Gin exchanged vows and sealed the ceremony with a kiss. After we filled out the necessary paperwork in Reverend Sweeney’s kitchen, we returned to the limo waiting out front.
The driver took us to Junior’s, a restaurant where all good oilies always go to celebrate something good, even today. It was Friday night, Junior’s filled to capacity. Junior’s was known as much for its strong drinks as for its wonderful food, and Anne, Gin and I soon caught up with Mick’s state of inebriation.
Later, after celebrating with two rounds of brandy ices, Mick stood, tapped his glass with a spoon until he had garnered everyone in the crowded restaurant’s attention. When the room went quiet, he said something like, “I love this beautiful woman and want everyone to know.”
Seeing the confused looks on everyone’s faces, I stood and said, “This is Mick and Gin. They are very much in love and just got married about an hour ago.”
The entire restaurant exploded with a round of applause and cheers.
I felt bad about badgering Mick into marrying Gin and told Anne as much when we finally returned home that night.
“He’s a grown man and is perfectly capable of making his own decisions. He must have wanted to marry Gin or nothing you said could have made him do it. You just sort of nudged him in the right direction.”
True words as Mick and Gin have now been married, through thick and thin, for more than twenty years, and have two wonderful children, Ashlee and Will, to show for the union.
Do I take the credit? Let’s put it this way. I’ve been a best man four times during my life and all four marriages are still going strong.
