At My Sister's Wedding
At my sister's wedding the bride wore lemon, the groomwore Armani and both of them looked damn fine. We,all thirty of us, crammed into the Registry Office tohear them say "they would." The Registrar, or howeveryou call him, showed up with the key at a minute toten, and if looks could kill nine lives would be nogood to him. The rain didn't bother us, but franklyhis suit was offensive.
At my sister's wedding there were lousy acoustics andmy brother shouted "speak up" from the back. And theydid. It's always him at the back, the deaf guy, nomatter what the occasion. My sister wore red highheels and as we left my other sister produced a taperecorder from thin air and blasted us with Tom Wait's"I love the way she looked in those red shoes." Wedid, too.
At my sister's wedding we walked to the hotelrestaurant and I complained personally to the managerabout there being no red carpet. As he retreated Iheard him mutter 'fucking royalty' under his breathand I told him he'd better watch his step sunshine, orelse. He did the honourable though, and took the restof the day off, leaving us in the capable hands ofCharlie, the maitre d'.
At my sister's wedding Charlie served bubbly, and atthe same time handed my sister her presents, one byone. The man was mercurial, and I made a mental noteto keep him in mind if ever I should take the plungemyself, though he was fairly getting on in years andprobably wouldn't make it. One of the nine-year-oldsthrew a screaming tantrum till she was allowed "grown-up" champagne. My sister turned on the waterworkswhen she saw the Waterford Crystal photo frame I gotthem. Works every time.
At my sister's wedding most people went with theshrimp cocktail followed by steak in pepper sauce.Mum had the melon & parma ham, my father eats nothingthat doesn't come with spuds. He smoked while we ateand nobody batted an eyelid. My sister had the duck.At my sister's wedding the hotel eventually gave me anew room after I informed them that the one they'dgiven me stank to high heaven of fire damage. Mygirlfriend shook her head a lot that day, and told meto lighten up.
At my sister's wedding my new brother-in-law's brothersaid a few words and that was the end of the speeches.My father only does eulogies, and I'd already stirredenough shit.
At my sister's wedding after dinner we planned toretire to our rooms for naps, and meet again at 7 inthe lobby, casual attire. But Happy Hour wasbeginning next door, so nobody bothered.
At my sister's wedding after Happy Hour our parentsjived. It was the first time anybody had ever seenthem touch. There are photos to prove it. We alsotried to get a photo of just the siblings together,but my mother got her mug in every shot. A whilelater, thinking the power failure was restricted to mypersonal grid, I didn't mention the darkness, butwas secretly relieved when the bar-staff distributedcandles.
At my sister's wedding after the bar closed we startedon our party pieces. My father sang Lilly Marlene, Isang the first verse of Puff The Magic Dragon and theband played the National Anthem. Everybody stood andswayed to attention except my other brother-in-lawwho's a Jehovah's Witness, and doesn't recognisenation states in the large scheme of things. Wethought the locals might lynch him. Looking back now,I guess he was the patriot.
At my sister's wedding nobody noticed the bump in thelemon dress that we would later christen Shauna-Kate.
About the author:
Kevin aspires to wait tables, at The Rainy Lane Bistro, no less! The Moroccan Lamb is second to none.