The
Wedding
By
Andrew SevenSeven
The following is a work of fiction, any
similarity to an actual event is purely coincidental.
First published in the Villager newspaper
It had been a
few days since Geraldine had stopped crying—three to be exact—yet her eyes were
still blotted with a lingering shade of red. She looked at the man sat across
her; a tall fellow with short Rasta dreads and a kempt mustache. She still
wasn’t sure whether she hated him or loved him, but one thing was sure: she
wouldn’t be feeling the pain she was right now if it was not for him. He had come
over to her apartment at her request. She needed answers. “How long have you
know, Shaela?” She managed after the longest pause yet.
“Almost five months,” Shaela replied. He
had a deep booming voice that betrayed a soft tone of care.
“Five months and last week’s events were
how you chose to tell me?!” Geraldine lashed at him. But when he raised an
eyebrow, she backed off. He had tried, she knew, but she had not even
entertained the idea before. Now it cracked its whip at her. Geraldine had
grown up with Shaela and they even used to be the best of friends. They had
lived in the same street in Soweto since birth, but after her father died when
she was 12 and she moved to the upper class suburbs when her mother remarried,
they grew apart. She always thought he was jealous of her because of that. She
had gotten a taste of the life they planned for when they were kids before him.
Without him. She now knew she couldn’t have been more wrong. “How did you find
out?”
“I don’t know,” Shaela began with a shrug,
“I guess I’ve always been jealous of any man that got close to you, especially
one that drove a Hummer. But I was just about to leave things be, return to my
miserable life without you when Angelica came into the picture…”
Angelica,
Geraldine thought. She shook her head as memory flashed back to her wedding
day. It was going to be the single greatest day of her life. She was in her
room in front of a tall mirror taking it all in. The cake, the decorations, the
colour combinations, the food—and most importantly her wedding dress (well,
most important after her Prince Charming)—everything was perfect.
At that moment Ndeshi, her Maid of Honour,
barged into the room and slumped onto her bed. “Suzanne started drinking a bit
too early and threw up on her bridesmaid’s dress. I got her into a spare and
she’s now taking a cold shower.”
“Where would I be without you, Ndeshi?”
said Geraldine gratefully, taking her eyes from her majestic reflection. “How
are you Festus?”
“We’re going to talk about that when you
get back from your honeymoon,” Ndeshi dismissed her. “Today is about you. And I
think I hear a car pulling in. That should be your stepdad. We should be off to
the church soon.” And with that she was off again.
The church was packed, and every standing
person was beaming up and down at her with stretched grins as she and her
stepdad walked past them down the aisle; Everyone except for Shaela, her
childhood friend. She wondered why she had even sent him an invite. The wedding
theme song played on as she walked up the steps and was handed over to stand,
facing her fiancé. She couldn’t believe this day had come at last. Many of her
friends told her fiancé he was the luckiest man in the world for having found her,
but she knew she was just as lucky. He was the kindest, most handsome, romantic
she had ever met. He was perfect, and she loved him with all her heart. She was
the luckiest girl in the world.
The Priest waited till everyone was
seated, then began to speak. “We are gathered together on this wonderful summer
afternoon to share with Geraldine and Rodger, who, today exchange vows of the everlasting
love…”
Geraldine skipped that part. What a farce!
Her thoughts touched back down to the present where, Shaela, sat across her,
merely waited, patient. He must have noticed her wander off.
Geraldine got up and poured herself a
glass of orange juice from the fridge. When Shaela declined an offer for one,
she returned to her seat, took a sip and asked. “Angelica was the first?”
“Yes,” said Shaela. “The sad thing is, you
weren’t even to be the last.”
Geraldine remembered the first time she
had set eyes on Angelica, only a week ago but it still burned deeply in her
cerebral cortex.
The Priest was finishing his speech; only
one meaningless formality was left. “If there is anyone here who objects to
this union; speak now or forever hold your peace—”
The silence lasted only two seconds—a
woman in a purple veiled hat stood up and spoke. “I object.” The church erupted
in a reproaching hum. But the woman continued. “I object because my name is
Angelica Barnes and that man is my husband.”
Was this someone’s sick idea of a joke?
Geraldine thought. On her wedding day? At the altar? “Who the hell are you?”
“Tell her, Rodger.” The woman said. She
moved out of the pew and stopped at the base of the steps. “Tell your wife to
be who I am.”
Geraldine flung her head to Rodger whose
face was ashen with pure horror. But he wasn’t looking at Geraldine, or even at
Angelica, but further on down the aisle, where 7 women had entered the church
and were approaching. They were women of various skin tones, too; An Asian, an
Arab-looking woman and others also. “What is zis?” a brown skinned woman with a
French accent inquired.
This was turning into a circus. Every eye
was focused on Rodger who could only smile sheepishly and wipe sweat off his
forward.
Geraldine shook her and head for what felt
like the 900th time that day and held her glass tightly so her hand
would not shake. “You say he’s been doing it for years.”
“Yes,” answered Shaela. “Angelica was the
first, he met her in Botswana on business and they got married there. When he
realized that certain financial advantages were granted to citizens that
foreigners were not privileged to…well, I suppose he saw the profit in that. He
expanded his reach across the globe. Ming is from China, Marion from France—he
even married someone from Singapore. He managed to keep his secret under wraps
using different aliases and fake IDs, but something this big was always bound
to blow up in his face.”
“Where is he now?”
“Well, as you know he was arrested, but
he’ll be deported back to his country tomorrow where he’ll answer for his
crimes. All his marriages have been annulled.”
And now came the part that concerned
Geraldine the most. Her heart accelerated a little as she asked. “Why did you
do it?”
“How could I not?” Shaela answered with a
slight hint of offense taken. “When I saw him kiss Angelica I had to do
something, I told you about it but you wouldn’t listen. So I dug further and
more dirt came up on him. After that I felt I had a responsibility to those
women to show them who this man they had married really was. I don’t regret
ruining your wedding. You had a right to know who you were marrying before you
signed the papers.”
“Is that all it was,” Geraldine asked
innocently. “Responsibility?” Would he get the hint already!
“To them,” said Shaela. “Yes. To you,
something much more, and it’s not jealousy.”
“I know that now. So then what?”
Shaela leaned towards her. “During these
last 5 months I reached a point that I didn’t’ mind who you were marrying. I
just wanted you to be happy—truly happy. Even though it killed me inside. You
wanna know what it was that kept driving me to expose that man….it was this:”
He cupped her face in his hands, closed
his eyes and they shared in a kiss he had only dreamed of for so many years.
No comments:
Post a Comment