…is a wedding scene. I’ve written tons of short stories, novellas and a couple of novels, and not once have my characters gotten married. Why? A sign of the times, perhaps? People don’t get married as much as they used to, and all that.
Actually, no, that’s not why. I literally never thought about this until I sat down to write this post, so bear with me, but I suspect it’s because I’m not really that good at the mushy stuff. I'm not even that keen on weddings. Yes, I write erotic romance as well as pure erotica and many of my characters get a happy ever after, or a happy for now, but I’ve never taken them right to the aisle. I’m fairly sure I haven’t even had any characters get engaged (correct me if I’m wrong, I’ve written lots of stories!). God, aren’t I just a mean bitch?
It’s probably not intentional, but I reckon my stories deal more with the characters getting together, or back together, etc, and I’m perfectly capable of handling the declarations of love and falling into bed, I just haven’t seemed to take it any further than that.
Hmm… it seems I really must rectify that, doesn’t it? Right, one wedding coming up. Actually, you’ll have to wait. If I marry the character I’m writing now to someone else, I think he might kill me.
P.S. I do, actually, have a story coming up at some point in the future where one of my characters proposes to the other, but I'm not saying which one as it'll ruin the surprise!!
I
don’t know if all little girls are wedding obsessed or not but I was.I’m not sure what triggered my bridal
instinct but something did.Back when I
grew up, most girls played ‘house’ and ‘school’ and with their Barbie
dolls.I did all that too but one of my
favorite games was ‘wedding’.Every
Sunday some of my dozens of cousins came over to play.Three of my cousins, two brothers and one
sister lived less than two blocks away so I decided I had my wedding
party.Tom – the oldest – served as the
priest for our Nuptials, Mary became my bridesmaid, and Bill, just one year
older than me, was my groom.I dolled up
in one of my mother’s old slips and put my First Communion veil on my
head.With a plastic bouquet borrowed
out of one of my mom’s vases I marched down the long hallway and wed, again and
again.It didn’t matter that my would-be
groom developed cold feet and was held in place by his brother as he officiated
at our little wedding.As the bride, I
felt like the star.
The
first music I learned to play on Mary’s electric organ happened to be ‘The
Wedding March”.I owned a beautiful
bride doll and my Barbies possessed a wardrobe of lovely wedding gowns.They married often too.
When
I was about seven or eight my aunt and uncle bought a large old house to fit
their growing family and when I met the family next door, another Catholic
bunch with more kids than I could count, I became smitten with the son closest
to me in age.I admired his sports skills
during the summer daily pick up baseball games in his back yard.We played hide-and-seek together, caught
fireflies, ate watermelon, and more.His
harried mom allowed us to make the empty apartment above their garage into a
‘clubhouse’ but after the two oldest sons, teenagers caught us lying on top of
each other on the worn out sofa, they took over the space.
I
fell in love and figured I’d grow up to marry Joe. Maybe it might’ve happened but my family
moved to another part of the state although as teens, we shared a few happy
afternoons when I visited my aunt.Long
distance in real life usually fails to make the heart any fonder, just lonelier
and my boyfriends were guys in my new hometown far away.But I never forgot my ‘first love’.
And
that’s where the first inspiration for my 2012 contemporary Valentine’s Day
romance, A Patient Heart, from Rebel
Ink Press begins.In the novel, my
heroine Catherine fell hard for her next door neighbor at an early age.Unlike me, Connor and Catherine’s affection
blossomed into love….before it crashed.Until he showed up as a patient in the far away hospital where Catherine
serves as a nurse, Connor was the guy she never forgot, the first love who
broke her heart.She’s afraid to
trust…even more scared to love but neither can deny the emotion remaining
between them.
Here’s
the blurb and then I’ll share an excerpt:
As a little girl, Catherine dreamed she'd marry Connor Donavan one
day and as teenagers, that dream seemed within reach. Until Connor ended their
relationship, leaving town and breaking Catherine's heart. Ten years later, far
from the old hometown, Catherine reports for work as a nurse one snowy January
evening and learns that her new patient is none other than her old love,
Connor. When he recognizes her, all the old feelings stir but a few sparks fly,
too. As Connor recovers from an accident, Catherine realizes she loves him more
than ever and he seems to love her as well. But after he leaves the hospital
and convalesces at her home, his real life intrudes into their quiet time
together. Then Connor leaves Catherine behind and she stays until a message
sends her speeding to Kansas City, to Connor's club... On Valentine's Day.
Excerpt:
By noon, Catherine yawned with exhaustion
but a buoyant happiness kept her going. Removing his catheter proved to be a
painful process and she’d left the room, offering him privacy and so she didn’t
have to watch. Before the lunch trays were delivered, the PT staff had him on
his feet and in his shoes, one of the few things he’d been wearing that
survived the accident. Catherine watched his triumphant trek back down the
hallway, loving the broad grin on his face but afterward, Connor’s fatigue was
evident. His eyes drooped and he slumped in the chair but with the cath and his
IV lines gone, he didn’t look as ill.
“Tired?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, yeah,” Connor replied, “I’m not
complaining, though. It’s good to be up again.”
“After you eat lunch and get rested up,
how about a shower?” she asked, “Or is that too much for today?”
Connor shrugged, “I don’t know. What is
for lunch? Anything I’d want?”
Catherine lifted the lid on the plate and
studied it, “It looks like baked chicken and dressing, corn and some pudding.”
He curled his lip but he nodded. “I’ll try
to eat it, I guess.”
Connor looked so much like a petulant
little boy she laughed, then bent and kissed him full on the mouth with heat. His
arms caught her and held her as he kissed her back, his lips sweet as she
recalled and yet confident with a maturity he’d lacked before. Catherine felt
the pull of his mouth on hers as he took control of the kiss, as strong and
inevitable as the ocean tides. Heat flushed her face, spread through her body
like ignited wildfire. She welcomed the raging flame, recognized it for what it
was and exulted in it. She didn’t know about the love but the passion they’d
shared survived. His mouth explored hers, commanding and yet gentle. She caught
her breath, held it until her head swam. If she hadn’t caught sight of the
monitors he remained plugged into, realized his pulse rate rocketed, his heart
rate increased and his blood pressure shot up, Catherine might not have stopped
when she did. She pulled back, her lips still warm and curved in a smile.
“Slow down, sweetheart or you’ll collapse
into the floor,” she laughed.
Connor grinned but she could see the
shimmer of perspiration on his face. “It’d be worth it if I do. I’m dizzy as
hell, though.”
Catherine started to laugh but his
expression shifted and warned she pushed his head down between his legs, “Don’t
pass out, please, Connor.”
Voice muffled, he responded, “I’m trying
not to, Cat.”
His breathing sounded too fast but she put
one hand on his back, standing beside him, worried but as he calmed, he began
to breathe at an easier pace and she sighed with relief.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Connor sat up, face ghost white but lit
with a grin. “Yeah, I’m fine, just shakier than I thought.”
“I’m sorry,” Catherine said.
His grin widened to the proportion of the
Mississippi River, “I’m not.”
A nursing assistant burst through the
door, wide-eyed, “Mr. Donavan is everything all right? I was watching monitors
at the desk and yours went wild.”
Why do I like The Voice? I can think of several reasons:
1. The blind auditions. The coaches turn solely for the person's voice. They have no idea what the singer looks like, so it is based on can they sing or not.
2. The rounds. This has to be the toughest part for the coaches, because they have to pit two of their contestants against each other and choose who stays and who goes.
3. The save. When two outstanding performers compete against each other, and the coach can only choose one, another coach has the opportunity to save the other singer, giving them another chance to shine with a different mentor.
4. America votes. Once the rounds are done and the saves have been used, the singers compete for America's votes. Does America always get it right? Not necessarily, but that's part of the fun of watching the show. My husband and I have our favorites, and we watch to see if America saves them. So far this season, we've been spot on!
This week, two more went home, leaving the three finalists, who will compete for the win next week. Team Blake has two in the finals; The Swon Brothers and Danielle Bradbery, and Team Usher has one, Michelle Chamuel. In our opinion, America got it right. They are all fantastic and will go on to have careers in music, but we think it's going to be a close race between Michelle Chamuel and The Swon Brothers!
We'll have to see if we're right ... waiting for next week is the worst.
5. The Coaches. Adam, Shakira, Usher, and Blake - love them!!! The four of them are great. They goof with each other, poke fun at one another, but there is no Diva-ing among them. They're honest, funny, supportive, and they care about their teams. Watching them coach their singers is like sitting in the studio with them. They give advice to help the singers shine, grow professionally, and stand out among the others. What an fascinating experience for the singers.
What I don't like: that the season ends next week, and I have to wait until the next season begins.
So, who will it be? Team Blake? Team Usher? The Swon Brothers? Danielle Bradbery? Michelle Chamuel? My pick: (1) Michelle (2) The Swon Brothers and (3) Danielle.
This weekend I'll be attending the funeral of my grandmother Viola Phillips, shown above at right. The photo was taken at my mom's bridal shower in 1962--that's my mom Paulette in the center, with her mom Juliette at left.
When this photo was taken, my mom was anxious to start her new, grown-up life as an army wife overseas. My dad was in the US army, and they were stationed in France and Germany when they began their lives together.
Of course, for the moms in this picture--or, the grandmothers-to-be--this time was also a time to say goodbye. Their daughter and son were heading off into the wide world, leaving a gap that felt raw to the parents shedding tears at weddings.
The emotions surrounding weddings are weighted with so many conflicting feelings. The beginnings aspect is easier to recognize, but the closing chapter aspect can sometimes be overlooked.
Even for the new bride, eager to be her own woman and making her own choices, there may be a confusing reach back for the girlhood she leaves behind.
As I reconnect to family I haven't seen in awhile during this funeral weekend, I'll be feeling the push/pull of mourning for my last grandparent, while rejoicing in the wonderful embrace of cousins and my aunt.
I'll be thinking of this picture of my mom's bridal shower, of the hopes and dreams that were present on that day, and reflecting that I am the living result of some of those dreams.
The next time you attend a wedding and may find yourself feeling a strange mix of joy and sorrow, just go with it. Weddings are both beginnings and endings, just as funerals join the past to the future.
I'd originally posted this one exactly 2 years ago. Today is my day to post, but given that my dad unexpectedly had to have surgery yesterday, I'm still not thinking straight enough to write a new post. Since the topic of this month is weddings, I thought I'd dust this one out and let ye all have a go at it.
And yes, in case you're wondering - my dad's doing fine. He's even coming home today. *grin*
Enjoy!
~~~~~
When Joanna told us that May and June were gonna be wedding-themed months, she and I exchanged a few emails, where I asked her if the perspective of attending an Indo-Mauritian wedding - through a blog post! - sounded good.
I got her blessing, and here we are today. So what's an Indian wedding in Mauritius like? First, I need to give you a little background. Weddings in India are really grand affairs. Now take Indians out of India and drop them the world over, and what do they do? Make everything even grander than 'back home', because the diaspora has ties and traditions it maintains with the homeland.
That all applies to Mauritius too - which, in case you don't know (even after all my yakking!), is a small island of world-wide immigrants in the southern Indian Ocean. Indians - Hindus, Muslims, Tamil folks - came to the island back in the 19th century, mostly to work as indentured labour in cane fields, under British rule, post abolition of slavery. Many Indians also came as tradesmen, craftsmen, or sailors who settled on the island. Our culture has in a way evolved to an islander one, but most of our traditions and manners and behaviour bear a striking resemblance to the world of India.
Okay, so what happens at an Indian wedding in Mauritius? I will give you my take on it, from the Muslim world. Yes, we do 'do' big weddings, and the fun and crush of relatives - not so different from our other Indian counterparts.
Check out this vid - it'll give you a pretty good idea of 'getting into a wedding' here.
So lol, yes, we do 'trip over' family the minute we step into a house where there is a wedding! Suddenly you're there and starring down a barrage of old aunties who all :
a) if you're under 15, will pinch your cheeks and go 'Look how you've grown! Soon we'll need to start looking for a proper boy for you!' (by which time we're going, how the heck do I get out of here without showing any disrespect to the old biddies and starting WWIII in the family because 'I' behaved like a 'shameful brat'?)
b) if you're over 16, will pat your cheek and hair and go 'When do we start looking for a good boy for you to marry?' all while crush-kneading the flesh of your upper arm and urge you to 'Eat because no man wants to marry an ironing board'. (and here too, you're wondering how the heck you get out without starting WWIII)
c) if unfortunately, you happen to be in your 20s and unmarried, will go 'When are you getting married, girl? You're getting on in age, aren't you?' (and here you're tempted to tell them all about your boyfriend whom no one knows about, but you rein your tongue in and keep mum, while smiling like a brainless idiot)
d) if you're past 27 and unmarried, will pat your cheek while making 'tsk-tsk' noise and some even will say 'Such a shame you're unmarried'. (and you, by now, are itching to tell them to go to He-- well, you know where, but again, you don't want to start WWIII and by now you're an expert at defusing their bombs and at being such a diplomat the Foreign Office could learn a few tricks of Diplomacy from you!)
e) if you're past 30 and still unmarried, will out and out ask you 'where's your mother/father?' because of course, you're not married so obviously you have no life except for looking after your old people.
f) if you're married, no matter what age, will ask you the minute they see you 'where's your husband?' because you know the old crones are all dying to ogle him out, like they ogle all the young men and think we don't know. You, of course, having been married, do not count anymore.
g) if you've got kids, will ask you (right after asking about your husband, meeting him and literally drooling over him!) where your kids are. If you have no kids yet (always by ill-luck, never by choice *gotta remember that!*), you know the question coming, right? 'When will you make grandmothers out of us?'
And if you already have kids - 'when's the next one coming?'
By now, you might still be holding on to your sanity, if you're strong, and if you've learned all about Auntie 101, 201, 301 (and so forth) Diplomatic Psychology. We all graduate with that, we descendants of Indians.
So onwards you move into the house - did I forget to mention we were all still out in the patio/garden/before the front door?
This encounter with the aunties certainly gives the tone of what the rest of the festivities will be like. Typically, an Indo-Mauritian Muslim wedding takes place over 4 days. And this is what the wedding house looks like (forgot to mention that the housefront will be bedecked with twinkling lights that rival Harrods' at Christmas time!):
The clothes worn are very much like those in the clip, though we're supposed to cover our midriffs for fear of giving any aunty a heart attack. And for God's sake, girl *gasp*, is that a piece of leg showing???
Let's see if I can find a few pics of what we'd wear here:
That's a lehenga-choli on the left - and yes, it does tend to weigh a ton in sequins and embroidery! -, and a silk sari on the right.
Muslim women who wear the headscarf might opt for something like this:
Now the wedding itself is not a huge deal. It's a ceremony where vows are exchanged, lasts about 30 minutes or so. But while the consent is being exchanged and "you are husband and wife before God" is then pronounced, all the guests gather in a big hall, where the groom will come claim the bride after the religious ceremony, and then they'll cut the cake, take the wedding pics, and then every family member is gonna go up on the raised dais to congratulate the new couple. That's the day where we'd be decked in our brightest finery (and some of those sequin-works can be blinding!).
Sometimes on this day itself, after the reception, there will be the wedding dinner. Usually that's set for another day, bringing the festivities close on Day 4.
Day 1 is the first religious ceremony to bless the whole wedding, and also when preps are under the way and the closest relatives are invited (and when you fall on the aunties like up above!).
It's Day 2 that's one where there's the most fun! The Mehendi ceremony - where henna is applied to the bride's hands and feet. It is said that the more the henna turns a dark colour on the bride's skin, the more her groom is in love with her. This one is a women-only gathering, usually on the eve of the wedding day. Songs, dancing, and often ribald jokes from the aunties are all the rage at this 'party'. The songs will most of the time be folk songs in Bhojpuri, which is the regional dialect from India most Indo-Mauritian descendants still speak, mostly in rural areas. Or they can be in Urdu, which is the language from Pakistan and which many people know here. Check out the clip here to get an idea what I'm talking about:
And by the time the wedding celebrations are over, you are totally wiped out. And if you're lucky, your wallet too is still in good stead, because *gasp* you should never wear the same clothes twice - never at the same wedding, and if possible, not even at another wedding in the same family. We work around this by wearing what we wore for one wedding, say in our family, at another wedding at the husband's family, where no one has seen the clothes!
Amid this all, add a very loud, mind-numbing or even brain-bashing dose of Indian Pop or Bollywood music. Lots of soft drinks (most of the time Pepsi!) drunk throughout the days. And lots of cake and other Indian sweets eaten over at every gathering. In short, a diabetic's nightmare...
But you shared in the family's happiness, didn't you? that's what it is all about, in the end - family, relationships, ties, and sharing.
