The Bridegroom

It was a bright day but not warm, the sun shone in the blue sky but its heat was nullified by the strong winds that whipped off the sea. Waves rolled in, they were crashing onto the rocks at the side of the beach but on the sands they were more serene, rolling and then receding before being replaced by the next one and the next one. Seagulls lined the top of the shelter, too scared to fly in case the wind blew them off course.

Alone on the promenade resplendent in his morning suit was a bridegroom pacing back and forth. He looked like he could have been cut out of a bridal magazine so perfect was his attire. But in bridal magazines the grooms don’t wear frowns and weren’t usually smoking cigarettes, they certainly weren’t alone on windswept promenades. He’d managed to get his cigarette lit despite the wind and was smoking it uneasily, he obviously wasn't a regular smoker. There was something in the way he held his fag, something in the way he grimaced as he inhaled and something in the way he blew out too much smoke that told me it wasn’t natural to him but a source of comfort in a difficult time.

I wondered why he was there, alone, dressed for, but not at the biggest day of his life.  Maybe he just needed some last minute alone time before all the attention of the big day - but it looked more serious than that. Maybe he’d been jilted at the alter, the wife-to-be getting cold feet and deserting him, with him running down to the sea to escape the sympathy from the grannies.  Or maybe someone couldn’t bear to hold his peace and had blurted out a reason why the act of holy matrimony shouldn’t go ahead, ruining the big day in the process. But if I were a betting man, I’d say it was him that was having second thoughts, some serious doubts about whether he wanted to go through with it. He sat down now, a far away look in his eyes as he stared out to sea, his brow still set in a frown, his stubble appeared to be visibly growing on his face, tears in his eyes.

But maybe the tears were just a result of sitting in the wind. Maybe the haggard look just a reaction to the elements. Maybe the ciggies were just a way of dealing with big day nerves. Because as he stubbed out his cigarette with his highly polished shoes, he looked around and a huge smile formed on his face. I looked in the direction of his gaze and there was a beautiful woman in a stunning dress laughing as she walked towards him accompanied by a photographer.

‘I can’t believe I forgot the bouquet.’ her words carried to me on the wind. I smiled too, it was infectious. If I had been a betting man I would have been out of pocket.