And if it did, what could I do to save myself . . . and save her?

* * *

Jules sent us, by e-mail, three different invitations for her wedding. “Which one do you like most?” she asked my mother and aunts and me.

One of them had a photo of her and Mack, together, on his motorcycle. Orange and yellow flames were Photoshopped behind them. They were in full leathers, but Mack wore a black bow tie and Jules had a lacy white veil attached to her helmet. The text: “Come Celebrate With Us as We Take the Ultimate Ride!”

“Ooo!” my mother said. “I like that one.”

A second photo was of Jules and Mack in jeans and matching black leather vests, black knitted hats, and black sunglasses. They were flexing their biceps, Jules in front of Mack, showing off their matching tattoos of each other’s face. The text: “We Have the Tattoos, Now We’re Getting Hitched.”

“Their inner-twined souls are coming through keenly here,” Aunt Camellia said. “You can feel the love.”

The third photo was of Jules and Mack, both naked, from the back, standing on a beach during sunset, their motorcycles nearby. They were holding hands, my sister’s long blonde hair flying in the wind, Mack looking huge next to her. The text, scrawling across their rear ends: “Don’t Be a Beach Bum, Come to Our Wedding!”

“This one,” Aunt Iris said, tapping it. “I think it’s modern. We all need to embrace our individual bodies and stop being so critical, so shocked, by nakedness. Plus, the message is clear and I like clear and practical messages.”

“Which one do you like, Evie?” my mother asked, as my aunts turned to me.

I studied all three. “I like all of them, but I think I’d go with the tattoos of each other’s faces. They’re getting married, it’s permanent, like the tattoos. Plus, they look tough, and inside we all know they are two of the mushiest people on the planet Earth, so it adds to that underlying humor.”

We Skyped Jules, told her our thoughts, and she decided on the tattoo invitation. “Tattoo invitation it is. We’re going to hire a woman to paint fake tattoos on anyone who wants one. Plus, the invitations to our friends will tell them to wear their leathers! What do you think?”

“I think it’s going to be a tough wedding,” I drawled. “Bunch of tough guys and gals.”

She looked confused, then she laughed. “Oh! I get it, Evie! Because leather is tough.”

“You got it.”

“Mom, you’re going to remember to wrap black leather ribbons around the vases of the flowers for the tables, right?”

“Yes, I got your message! We’ll wrap the vases in black leather.”

“Aunt Iris, did you get our motorcycle photo?”

“I did!” Aunt Iris said. “And I juxtaposed it against crazy-looking orchids bent this way and that. The orchids look like they’re talking to each other. We’ll have that picture in each floral centerpiece.”