“Go on.” Megan slipped her arm around Jill’s waist.
The screen shifted to a legal document — their wedding license.
“This is our wedding license. We got married three years later. My parents died when I was ten so we had to talk my sister Megan into it.”
“I was against it,” Megan said.
Jill laughed at Megan’s strong tone. Megan was always so smart about everything.
The image shifted to their wedding picture. She wore a short white rayon dress that cost twenty dollars at Sears. Trevor wore a borrowed tux three sizes too big. Sitting on his bended knee, she was laughing at something he’d said. They were kissing in the next photo.
“I was sixteen and he was seventeen. Here’s our first apartment. Oh, and that’s a picture of our puppy, Scooter.”
An image of a tiny mutt puppy appeared on the screen.
“He was a wedding present. Scooter got hit by a car a couple years ago.”
The screen cycled through three or four pictures of them playing with Scooter, then showed a picture of them kissing in their high school graduation robes.
“We graduated from high school,” Jill laughed. The picture switched to their graduation party. “I’m pretty drunk here.”
She was sitting facing Trevor on his lap, wearing only small panties and her graduation hat. Trevor’s face was buried in her neck. She heard laughter and catcalls. Looking from the screen to the crowd, she realized they were doing something no one expected — these rich people were enjoying the show.
The picture changed to one of Jill standing sideways.
“Okay, you can’t tell, but I’m pregnant here. Trev wanted a photo every week.”
The screen flashed through nine months of her growing baby belly. Then there was a photo of Trevor kissing Jill while she held a one-minute-old Katy.
“That’s Katy. Her name is Katherine, after my mom, but we call her Katy. Isn’t she beautiful? She’s almost four.” Jill beamed.
The slide show went through countless photos of Katy. Infant pictures changed to toddler pictures. Image after image, Jill watched her pretty baby grow up. They seemed so happy in the photos. The image shifted to Christmas.
“You can see the date on the picture. This was last Christmas. That’s a picture of Trev and me at Keystone.”
They were sitting on a ski slope with their snowboards, wrapped in each other. “I love Jill” was written in the snow, and Trevor was kissing her face. They looked so blissfully happy. The images cycled through a family Christmas, pausing at a New Year’s Eve party. Taken at midnight, the picture showed Trevor and Jill making out in the corner. The back of Jill’s gold T-shirt read “Trevor’s wish,” while a large “J,” the rest unseen from the angle of the picture, was visible on the back of Trevor’s matching T-shirt.
When the next image came up on the screen, the crowd gasped.
“These are our divorce papers. As you can see, Trevor divorced me two days later, and that means …”
“You’re still married,” a man’s voice yelled from the back of the room. “Lawyer, sorry.”
The crowd laughed.
“Until tomorrow,” Jill said. She took a step toward Trevor who was shaking his head. “I wanted to give you a few things to help you in your new life.”
The band began to play “I will survive.”
“First, here’s my wedding ring. While I see you managed to get her a diamond, my little thirty-dollar ring was good for nine years. You should keep it.”
She pulled the ring off her left ring finger and placed it in Trevor’s hand.
“And I think you should have these.”
The retelling of Denver Cereal, Volume 1 continues tomorrow...
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