Crashing the Wedding

Crashing the Wedding

When Saint Cat was 16, her parents had her engaged to the Moon. “He is rich”, they said, which was true enough, “and he can support you in your old age.” But he was old, and set in his ways. “He is not unkind”, they said, which was true enough, but he also wasn’t kind, and Saint Cat was bothered by his investments in arms manufacturing. Nevertheless, no matter how clearly and directly she tried to say “no”, her parents didn’t understand, and she started to wonder if she was really being clear and direct at all.

One night, laying in bed and trying to convince herself that the Moon was best for her — all she deserved — she heard strange music from outside her window. She looked out, but all was covered in a thick fog. She stuck her head out, and found that her second-story window was now a first-story window. She stepped out and found herself in a starlit orchard full of ripe peaches and avocados.

The music continued, and in the distance she saw a small, hairy, goatish man performing a strange and complicated dance with apparent ease. It had no apparent rhythm, but it was strangely entrancing. After watching for a little while, she went back through her window and went back to bed, falling immediately into a deep sleep.

The daylight and all of the business of everyday life put her strange dream or vision out of her mind, totally forgotten, but that night, as soon as her head hit the pillow and even before turning out her light, she heard the music again. This time, the fog was lighter, and she could see some of the stars and the shadows of the trees through her window. She stepped out again, and the goatish man was closer. She felt like he was requesting that she dance with him — and she began to dance, not in the way that he was dancing but in a style that she had learned as a young child. He stopped, whacked her on the head with a rolled up newspaper, and disappeared — and in the morning she found herself in bed again.

The third night was the eve of her planned wedding, because the Moon, for all his age and wealth, was impatient to have her. And again, she heard the strange music. The fog this time had dissipated almost completely, and as she stepped through the window, she nearly face-planted into the goatish man. He had been waiting for her, and together, they began the strange dance. Awkwardly at first — her mind full of apprehension and her heart full of thoughts, this being the eve of her wedding — she began to copy the strange series of movements the goatish man was performing. Over time, she began to understand the connection between the strange movements and the strange piping music, although she could not explain it to anyone if she was asked. She did not understand the reason for either, and the dance was strenuous, but she continued even as she thought she might collapse from exhaustion. Dripping with sweat, she finally perfected the sequence of movements, and the small goatish man rewarded her with a kiss just as the dawn broke — dissolving the orchard and the man, but immediately drying her sweat and filling her with a burst of energy.

Through this entire experience, she never forgot that her marriage was about to begin, although she wanted to, and this thought drove her in the times she thought she might collapse. But now that she had left the enchanted orchard, her despair began to feel overwhelming. In a daze, she allowed herself to be bathed and put in a clean white wedding dress, and piloted to the church’s aisle.

The traditional wedding music began, and she began to walk down the aisle, but right in front of her, a wild ferret dashed. She picked her foot up to avoid it, and something about the movement felt familiar. The ferret, now being chased by confused guests, dashed into the guts of the organ — and the sound that produced was familiar, too. Saint Cat knew what to do. She performed the dance.

These movements, which once seemed so arbitrary, were graceful now that their meaning had been supplied. She easily dodged the chaotic morass of guests chasing after, or running away from, the ferret, who had started biting. She made her way easily out the side door, and with one final motion, ripped off the train of her dress, which, she knew even before knowing it, was caught on the edge of a pew. And outside, she met the Moon, who was laughing and petting his ferret.

“I will let you go,” the Moon said, “because I see you have met my friend, the goat man. He has more important plans for you than I do.”

And that was how Saint Cat avoided being married to the Moon.