Whenever someone had no friend or family member beside them, Larry stepped forward.
His name appeared again and again in those records.
But always beside the same word.
Witness.
Never husband.
Never spouse.
Not until me.
Margaret opened another drawer.
“There’s something else.”
She pulled out a clear plastic sleeve.
“Larry asked me to keep this after your marriage was recorded, in case you ever came looking for me.”
Inside was a copy of our marriage certificate.
My name was there.
So was Larry’s.
And beside his name was the word:
SPOUSE.
I remembered how carefully he had folded his copy after our ceremony.
How he had asked the clerk twice where he needed to sign.
I had teased him about it.
“You’re acting like this is an actual wedding.”
