Adam sat in First Class with two glasses of champagne even though there was only one of him. He was on his honeymoon. He thought that there was no better time to enjoy twice the acceptable amount of bubbly than on his honeymoon. Adam was also wearing two wedding bands on only one ring finger. Both were made of platinum. “The better to last all of eternity,” said the jeweler he bought them from. Common gold and silver were for reality TV nuptials that had all the spectacle and longevity of a paparazzi flashbulb. He knew it was a salesman’s tactic, setting him up for guilt if he chose any other metal but he bought into it anyway. And just like the jeweler sold infinity, so did his fiancée. She spoke about growing old together in a beach house where they’d make cups of coffee every morning and drink on the sand. Unfortunately, it turned out that a stranger making a profit was more reliable than the woman he called the love of his life. Four days ago, Kate called off their wedding. It happened at the seamstresses’. Kate was fetching her gown after having it altered to fit her petite frame. As the superstition states, a groom shouldn’t see his bride in her wedding dress until the ceremony or else they invite bad luck. Kate had no problem with Adam coming along to get her dress. Then, Adam thought that she was just a modern woman who didn’t believe old wives’ tales. Now, he thinks he should’ve taken it as a sign of how little the wedding really meant to her. She stood on top of a small platform in front of a three-paneled mirror wearing the beautiful white dress by some famous designer out of some fabric made exclusively in a province in the South of France. Adam sat on the couch behind her and watched as she turned to one side and then the other and then all the way around to face him. She looked Adam in the eye and said, “I can’t do this.” Disbelief is what usually follows. A confused “WHAT?!” is expected or a nervous “You’re kidding!” But Adam knew immediately that she was serious. He let her speak and she revealed she was in love with someone else, someone from work. She wasn’t sure if that someone loved her back but she said she could never forgive herself for not finding out. She said she couldn’t don the dress, walk the aisle, and make the vows to Adam when she was thinking of someone else. She changed out of her dress, she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked up to Adam, still on the couch. She kissed him on the forehead and left the shop. Adam swore he saw a spring in her step as she left him behind. She was giddy while he was enraged. And so here he is drinking both their champagnes, wearing both their rings. His family thought he was crazy for still going on their honeymoon but it was something he needed to do. More accurately, there was something he needed to do that required going on their honeymoon. Kate had planned a honeymoon to Copenhagen. As a girl, she loved the story of The Little Mermaid. Along the water at Langelinie was the world famous bronze statue of the Little Mermaid that Kate had always longed to see. An image of it, taken from a friend’s travel blog, was the wallpaper on her phone. A painting of it that she made in a watercolor class at university hung above her bed. So Adam was going to visit the statue that she loved so much and he was going to piss on it. Within a few hours, Adam was off the plane and sitting inside a hotel bar near the Langelinie Promenade. “San Miguel, please,” he asked the bartender. This particular brew was the one that Kate hated; it was with this beer that he wanted to soil the statue that she loved. “Two pints, please!” he called after the bartender. This time he wasn’t drinking for him and his would’ve-been wife. He just wanted enough of the beer in him to make sure a substantial amount ended up on the statue. Adam had googled the amount of time it takes for a beverage to travel from a person’s mouth all the way to the bladder. As the case is with such searches, the hits were mostly forums and the answers were varied and unconvincing. One said 10 minutes, which seemed ridiculous to Adam. Another said up to a week, which seemed like it had some sort of tediously scientific explanation involving trace substances that the human body can’t break down quickly enough. But Adam found an answer saying 45 minutes and chose to believe that. When his pints arrived, he approached them like a cannonball and a ramrod, chugging the first one and very deliberately sipping at the second. He passed the time staring at a replay of a football game on the TV and trying not to stare at a pair of still-affectionate elderly American tourists across the bar. Soon it was time to go. He asked the bartender for directions to the statue and he went on his way. The statue was higher than he expected. He figured he had to settle for aiming at the rock it was perched on rather than the statue itself. He went up to it, treading cautiously on the stones, careful not to fall into the dark water. He looked up at the statue, remembering all the pictures he had seen of it, the blog photos and the watercolor paintings. They were all lovely but not as much as the subject itself, sitting before him now. Adam remembered all of what the statue meant to Kate. He inhaled the cold night air forcefully, filling his lungs, and sighed it all out. Then he unzipped his pants.
The Honeymoon
By Andrea Cid
A thousand words inspired
by Getty Images #97658737
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Credit: Jonathan Knowles
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