Eva felt the blood rise to her face and burn her with shame. Surely, if her godmother hadn’t had that accident three years ago, she would have been willing to stage one herself right now, with the same tragic results. No one had ever heard her baptismal name until her wedding day, when the church was full of her friends. She could almost see the ironic smiles of some.
Next to Eva was Michalis. At every wedding, usually the bride steals the show, but this groom managed to capture attention with his radiant gaze, overflowing with love for the girl who was becoming his wife at that moment. He turned, looked at her, and smiled. She seemed to him the most beautiful woman in the world. He had already forgotten the irritation caused by her unacceptable delay. He had been waiting for her for over three quarters of an hour on the church steps, and when, as he kissed her, he asked why she was so late, she had answered irritably: “Can’t you see? I almost didn’t come! The foolish hairdresser did whatever she wanted!”
The maid of honor, behind them, was changing the crowns; soon the Dance of Isaiah would begin, their first steps into the shared life that was starting. Michalis had been to so many weddings and had never managed to follow any of them. Usually, the men stayed in the churchyard, discussing topics unrelated to the ceremony, while the women always had material for commentary inside the church, as there was the bride, the relatives’ dresses, and so many other things, causing noise and the priest’s irritation. But now he was there for the first time and, moreover, the protagonist of the occasion. He had to move forward; the priest was already leading with the Gospel in his hands. His mother’s command came to his ears: “Be careful not to drop the crowns on Isaiah!”