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From Kristen Battles, Receptionist:

Since the passing of my birthday last week, I've been thinking a great deal about change. Turning 24 wasn't particularly momentous for me, though in high school I never did think I'd make it to 21. And it's not because it's fall, though this time of year does lend itself to thoughts of transition, and sometimes of impermenance and decay. I think perhaps it was a culmination of many things, as over the span of one weekend I celebrated my birthday, an anniversary with my boyfriend, pondered an out-of-state move, and witnessed my cousin's first marrriage. I think that last one was the real kicker, though.

Yes, at the tender age of 21, my cousin Kimberly tied the knot. Of course nowadays it's not so much a knot as two shoelaces twisted loosely around each other. Cyncism about marriage runs deep in my family (okay, just me), what with all of my cousins' parents divorced and my own sister, at 29, recently separated after two years of marriage and already preparing to move in with another man. But I didn't think of any of these things until the wedding procession began...

The work week, prior to the wedding, was a lot like other weeks — except I had questions about moving on my mind, like how I was going to muster up the energy to find another job after I had just been hired on at Tripod two months before. I was psyched for the weekend, hoping it would be a little reprieve from all these plagues of the mind.

We were a little late in getting to my Mom's on the day of Kim's wedding, so I was a bit harried, trying to decide on something nice to wear. I had brought a couple different outfits and tried each one on to get my Mother's opinion. "That one's nice," she said nodding, for every dress I tried on. I was behaving like a 14 year-old on the first day of high school. I changed outfits about five times, until my boyfriend Ernesto said, "What's the big deal? It's not like you're in the wedding party."

I snorted at him. "No, because if I were, I'd already know what I was wearing!" He stepped away after that — and I took a moment to ask myself what the hell was my problem. Was it because I was getting older and felt like my clothes weren't "hip" enough? Did I want to impress the relatives for some bizarre reason, make them think I had come up in the world? Perhaps it was that my birthday marked another year gone, one in which I still hadn't achieved all my childhood aspirations? Sure, all these things were on my mind, but that wasn't quite it. It wasn't one specific worry or concern, but an overall feeling of something weighing down on me that I couldn't shake. I decided to try and stifle my thoughts until after the festivities — or at least water them down a little at the reception.

I've only been to a handful of weddings, all with their moments, but this one was truly unique. Again, we were running late, (not because I couldn't choose an outfit, but because Ernesto's button fell off his pants at the last second), so we met up with my two sisters and their respective fellas in the parking lot and hustled up to the doors of the church. On the lawn stood my cousin Kim, next to her mother, resplendent in her white gown with all the trimmings. My aunt looked more nervous than Kim did and was taking quick, shaky pulls off her cigarette between attempts to straighten Kim's veil.

"It's fine Ma, leave it alone," Kim said, slapping her mother's hand away. We smiled and waved, while trying not to look (for fear of ill luck), and made our way to the entrance. Just inside were gathered the brides' maids, their faces shining with strained smiles, white-knuckling their bouquets. Kim's twin sister Kelly stood at the front of the line, her dark, rose-colored dress distinguishing her as the maid of honor. She looked the prettiest, most confident I'd ever remembering seeing her, and she acknowledged me with a genuine smile.

We took our seats in the second pew and slid down to the end until we all fit. Well, almost all of us. I was stuck on one of the dividers. Right in the middle of it, I mean. To my left was my Mother, my right Ernesto — and neither had room for me on their side. I raised myself up with my hands and tried to keep from sitting on the wooden bar, but it was little use. I prayed for a speedy ceremony.

The flower girl was first down the aisle and, though I couldn't see her from where I sat, I sure could hear her. She came tearing down the carpet, wailing like a banshee, and ran right into the groom's mother's knees, which, needless to say, didn't stop her crying.

Then the rest of the party drifted down the aisle while the organ music slowly drowned out the sound of the child's sobs. The ring bearer (who looked about five) made his entrance and appeared to be fairly cool under pressure. Someone must have prompted him to give the thumbs up sign to look cute, because he did this about every two minutes. Eventually, my aunt gave Kim away and the wedding took off.

While the actual ceremony took place, the sideshow was in full swing. The flower girl couldn't calm down and had to be escorted off to a side room with a sliding glass door, which was not soundproof. From my seat, I could see the girl throwing herself on the floor and banging her little fists on the glass, calling for her mother. Her mother must have been the bridesmaid that kept turning around and scowling. Before long, the ringbearer broke down, too, though it wasn't clear what had prompted it. Right before the "I do's", he started bawling and wandered slowly back up the aisle, his plump fingers clutching and pulling at his little suit, while the guests all stared at him.

This all struck me as extremely funny. I could barely stifle my laughter and felt guilty as I received accusing looks from some of the other guests. And then I got it. I knew what had been bothering me. Watching this whole scene unfold felt really familiar. I realized I was just scared. I watched these kids in hysterics and thought, That's me. That's all of us up there, all dressed up, feeling pressured to look and perform well, wondering the whole time what the hell we're really supposed to be doing — while the whole world looks on. And here I was in my seat, teetering on a thin, wooden bar, uncomfortable and wishing I could sit on one side or the other. I had reached a point in my life where I had no assurances of anything.

Then the feeling subsided and the ceremony was over. The reception turned out to be fantastic. I danced and drank and talked with people I hadn't seen in a long time. I told them about my job at Tripod and how I would have to find another soon, when I moved out of state. And I found that no matter who I spoke to, whatever their age or situation, they all had similar concerns. I knew I wouldn't see my cousins for a long time, so I cringed when Kelly told me to find her next time I was in town so we could go out for a drink. That wasn't going to happen, because we were both spreading out in different directions. For the first time it became clear that my family was never going to be the same, and that this is one of many bittersweet things that happens when you get older.

Now, I don't mean to get all sappy, but I thought this was an appropriate story for the time that I'm telling it. I'm leaving Tripod after only a couple of short months, and am off to find yet another job (surely not my last), in another state. There's no family out there to fall back on for support, and nothing that I can call familiar. But I've learned that you're bound to find happiness in many places at many different points in your life, and that's what it's all about. So voice your fears when they creep in, even if that means wandering around and crying out loud (you're bound to get some attention). Just don't let that stage fright keep you from the stage. So goodbye to you all, and to Tripod. I'm ready to take off.

Now if only I could find the right outfit to wear...

Kristen Battles, (Former) Tripod Receptionist (9/26/97)

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Read more "Letters from Tripod" in the archive.

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