Lucy Goes to the Museum of American Nuptials by Kate Faigen and Kyle Weik

In the Engagement Room, Lucy holds up her ring finger to a display of diamonds. Something inside her sparkles. She fantasizes about a gold band sliding past her bare knuckle: slowly, quickly. Lucy blushes hard, then shuffles after a group into the First Dance Studio.

Elvis Presley and Diana Ross serenade scores of museum goers, friendly folks from out of town who’ve come to witness the oddities of weddings before The Big Divorce—the bang that hit once dating apps caused strokes, wandering eyes lead to arrhythmia, and rabid love resulted in death. “The pains” they say, that Americans have evolved from.

Holy shit, Lucy marvels over a whiff of strawberry shortcake in the Reception Simulation. She puts her nose to the two holes in the plastic box, inhaling sweetness that she’s never known. It must’ve been divine, having someone shove cake in your face.

Thoughts that feel primeval dance in Lucy’s head as she gets swept up in a current of non-believers pushing their way to The Book of Vows. But Lucy believes. She keeps asking herself, like an unrequited proposal: why me, why now?

When she finally makes it to The Altar, there’s no one else but Stephen. This is how it’s intended, according to the inscription outside the door. Two people, whoever they may be. The museum goers position their feet on the place holders on the floor. They face each other, and the video on the screen comes to life. An officiant. Sunlight. A breeze. 

To have and to hold. Lucy studies Stephen’s face—he’s much younger, mid-twenties. Thick, black hair she could tussle. Patchy cheeks she could touch with one hand, a glass of champagne in the other, like she saw at the Open Bar Experience. A jaw she could kiss.

Something that doesn’t exist anymore strikes her body. She breathes to the beat of the Wedding March. Stephen shoves his hands in his pockets, shifts his stance. Her un-ringed finger, shaky, reaches out to his chest, like a child.

It’s only when Stephen winces, when he lifts his feet off the place holders, that Lucy comes back. The young man leaves her at The Altar, her head hung in the hum of the room. Tree branches rustle on the screen, lovely and simple.

The next fake newlyweds must be clamoring to come into The Museum of American Nuptials. Lucy smooths her cardigan, exhales, and walks down the aisle. After the Gift Registry Shop, full of cake mixers and serving platters and throw pillows, Lucy wanders outside to the parking lot.

She thinks of Stephen once more, then not ever again.

Kate Faigen’s stories have appeared in Flash Frog, New Flash Fiction Review, Los Angeles Review, and more. You can find her on Twitter: @k8faigen.

Kyle Weik is a writer based in Los Angeles. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Bending Genres and Flash Fiction Magazine. He’s on Twitter @kyleisamu.