The Rom-com App

The slideshow for John’s wedding ends. His mother is weeping. His grandmother, doubly so, holds her. I head for the bar. John finds me.

“What’d you think?”

I pour myself a glass of something brown.

“Hm, yeah, it is was good.”

“Pour me one of those?”

“Yeah.” I do. I take mine down in one.

I begin pouring another.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

John laughs. “You only drink like that when something is wrong.”

I take my next glass down in one. “No, I don’t.”

“Look, it’s okay to be upset.”

“Not upset.”

“You weren’t in the slideshow.”

I don’t say anything.

John nods; understanding, nauseating.

“Look, it’s just odd,” I mutter.

“What?”

“The best man somehow not being in a single photo. I could have sworn–it doesn’t matter. It’s your wedding, I’m being a child.”

I go to take the next glass down in one, pause. I take a sip.

“Look, it’s this app Karen used.”

I look sideways at him.

“What?”

“Look.”

He pulls out his phone, slides it over to me. I pick it up. It’s dead.

“Ah, shit.” He snatches it back. I take down the rest of my drink. This time, John pours my next.

“Anyways, it’s called the rom-com app.”

I choke on a laugh, cough on a sip. “What the shit is a rom-com app?”

John looks awkward.

“It just, well, anything you take a picture of, it just cuts out anything that might be negative. You know, so like, all your memories are perfect or whatever. I don’t know Karen explains it better. And well,” he pauses, looking for the right words.

He doesn’t find them.

“You have a sad face,” he decides.

This time the laugh comes out unhindered.

“A sad face?”

“A bit. I was furious when I saw it. I even called the company. They said fixing them could distort the pictures we already have and well–”

“Yeah, I get it.”

I take my drink down in one. It hits me in the back of the eyes. John pats me on the back.

“Boys!”

We both turn. Karen stands pointing her phone at us.

“Smile!”

John holds up his hand.

“Not now Karen,” he says, serious.

“Oh,” Karen holsters her phone. “You told him.”

She gives me a truly empathetic smile.

“Aw,” she says, walking up, slipping her arms around me.

“Don’t be sad.”