Shopping for wedding dresses, again. Jesus, I'd rather have my

teeth pulled.

No such luck.

It was a Sunday and the dentist's office was closed.

*****

"This is so beautiful," said Barbra, holding the ugly, too-expen-

sive dress in front of her.

"Buy it then," I said.

"I can't buy it! One look in the morning on our wedding day and

I'll start crying! My mascara would be ruined."

"Then don't buy it," I said, turning my back on her. I thumbed

through a ratty copy of "Brides Monthly." Ads on nearly every

page.

"Grump," she said, reaching over to grab my ass.

I slapped at her hand. "Just call me Forrest Grump."

The salesgirl behind the counter stopped arranging some crap

inside the glass case and giggled.

"Those look like comfortable shoes," I said, in the dumbest voice

I could come up with.

Barbra started laughing. "You sounded just like Peter when you

said that."

"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that."

"Creep," she said, pouting and looking at another dress.

I signaled to the girl not to worry about Barbra's little outburst,

mouthing the word "PERIOD," pointing at my crotch.

She made a 'shame on you' gesture with two fingers.

I shrugged and started laughing myself.

Barbra turned around, looked at the girl-- who'd already looked

away from us when she saw Barbra's head turning-- and then at me.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Just life," I said. "Isn't it funny?"

*****

We bought a short beige dress for the wedding. Nothing fancy, but

fancy enough that we paid through the nose for it.

I charged it on my Visa and, as I was signing the charge slip, I

wrote my phone number at the bottom.

"We'd don't require that anymore, sir," said the salesgirl,

looking deep into my eyes when she said it.

"That's okay," I said, looking back. "Things happen. You might need

it."

I folded up the credit slip and handed it to her.

*****

When I checked my private message service, it was the salesgirl's

voice I heard first.

"Mr. Reynolds? I've never done this before."

*****

"You don't have to call me Mr. Reynolds if we're going to be

friends," I said, on the phone to her later.

"Ha! I guess not," she said, giggling.

Geez, she giggled a lot. I wondered if she giggled in bed.

I could see it now: "Oh god, oh god, oh god, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Got a cigarette?"

I smirked to myself. "So, do you live near by?"