I appear to
be dressed for a wedding, complete with lipstick and high heels. I never would
have chosen these shoes for myself -- I'm going to break my neck prancing
around on these steps. It occurs to me that I don't know who the wedding is
for, and maybe I can get out of this. Not that I hate weddings or anything, but
I do hate these fucking shoes.
I take them
off and scurry down the steps. I should point out that I'm the only one
around... I see no one on the street, no one rushing to the doors of the
cathedral. It's a bit cold and lonely out here. Nevertheless, I continue down
the vast staircase. As I reach the bottom and step onto the sidewalk,
everything turns black. There is nowhere
for me to go but back up the steps. Huh, so this is what happens when you try
to escape one of these trips. Good to know.
Resigning
myself to my fate, I climb my way back up the seemingly hundreds of thousands
of steps, clutching my stilettos in my hands like fashionable weapons. The
wedding bells are getting louder and seemingly more frantic and impatient,
yelling at me to enter the cathedral. I attempt to open the heavy door, but it
won't budge. Then it dawns on me: I'll have to put on the shoes. That's how
this works. Goddammit.
Feet
squeezed into torture devices, I push the door and it opens with the slightest
touch, like magic. The pews are tightly packed with guests, all of whom turn to
look at me as I stumble like a newborn deer from the back of the church to the
nearest open spot. The bride and groom are already at the front together,
facing each other, glaring at my reprehensible tardiness. I've never seen them,
or anyone in this room, before in my life.
One of the
ushers, a stately looking man with gorgeous obsidian skin, appears next to me
and hands me a wedding programme. Opening it up, I learn that I am witnessing
the marriage of Charlotte Jennifer MacKenzie, daughter of George MacKenzie and
Elizabeth Gardner, to Marcus Arnold Tombe, son of Arnold and Natonya Tombe.
In typical
format, the bride's guests are one side, the groom's on the other. The aisle,
decorated with red rose petals and Charlotte's kilometre-long white train,
divide the room's human contents: white on one side, black on the other. I
smile at the family sitting next to me - Marcus' relatives, no doubt - and they
smile back.
The shock
of my appalling interruption subsides, and the event finally resumes. It's time
for the vows. Marcus takes Charlotte's lily-white hands in his and declares his
love for her with a hint that sweet Charlie shouldn't be wearing a lily-white
gown. You've been around, but you've
changed me.
Charlotte's
parents give each other a knowing glance. Charlotte herself grins sheepishly
and looks down at her feet. The congregation laughs warmly. They obviously know
something I don't. Whatever her story is, it doesn't matter, clearly.
It's
Charlotte's turn, and her saccharine declaration of love and commitment pull
the inevitable tears out of everyone in the room, including me. God, I'm a
sucker for this stuff. I love you in the morning sun, I love you in
my dreams.
Then all
the rest of it happens, quite as you would expect, with the pronouncing of
husband and wife, and the kiss, and the applause, and the inevitable unrest
that washes over the congregation as they start mentally checking out of the
cathedral and getting antsy for the real reason they dusted off their Sunday
best and came out today - food and booze.
I start to
wonder if my presence here is still required (was it even required in the first
place? Why am I here, anyway?), so as the guests become restless and begin
standing and moving about the cathedral, I slip discreetly away toward the
door. The usher is absent, so I try to open the door to leave, but no such luck
- it's locked from the inside.
I jump
clumsily out of the way as the bride and groom, their parents, and the bridal
party swiftly make their way back up the aisle toward the cathedral doors.
Through them they proceed and the receiving line forms out on those imposing
steps. The bells start ringing again, signaling the end of God's immediate role
in today's festivities.
I turn
around and look at the congregation, and only now do I see that the two
families don't seem to be gelling. Maybe this is their first meeting? Whatever
the case, they seem unwilling to acknowledge each other's presence, choosing to
exit the pews from the far side rather than via the aisle that joins them. This
is going to be uncomfortable.
I watch as
the guests begin to file out of the church, careful to stay close to the people
with whom they came. How on earth am I going to get out of this? I'm an
unwilling wedding crasher who can't even sneak out of my own volition. I am
sure to be discovered as an infiltrator as I take my place in the receiving
line queue. I may just be in hell.
Then, the
usher appears next to me. He introduces himself as Lester, Marcus' uncle, and
he shakes my hand. He asks how I'm getting to the reception hall, and I tell
him I have no idea. The kind man offers me a ride. And before I know it, he is
whisking me down the steps, past the receiving line with a wave to the bride
and groom.
In the car,
Lester reveals that he knows I'm a "visitor". He could tell right
away. He's sort of a magnet for visitors - people who drop in to moments in
time and space via some form of creative output - a song, or a painting, or a
poem, or what have you. Well I'll be! That's what's been happening to me all
this time, throughout this project! Lester tells me he feels like it's his job to
help visitors when he encounters them. Sigh, if only he'd been there during
some of my other "visits". I sure could have used his help during the
"Heroes" album.
Anyway,
Lester is smoking and driving and giving me the scoop: that Charlotte and her
people are from a small town in Saskatchewan with a population of less than 50
people, can you believe that?! Charlotte went to Toronto for university, and
there she met Marcus, a born and raised Torontonian whose family hails from
Kenya, originally.
The Tombes
have had no issue accepting Charlotte into their lives from the get-go,
however, Charlotte's family has been reluctant to welcome Marcus and his family
into theirs - and that's putting it mildly. Hell, this wedding almost didn't
happen on account of Mr. MacKenzie's "reluctance" to have anything to
do with it. But when Charlotte and Marcus threatened to elope, Charlotte's mom
managed to pull everyone together and make this day happen. Wow.
Uncle
Lester and I arrive at the reception hall, and he ushers me in and secures a
spot for me at his table. Cousin Gabe wasn't able to make it due to his
precarious mental health and sudden involuntary committal to the mental
hospital, so there is a seat available.
Lester
tells me that he's got to go see a man about a horse, which I think means he
has to pee, but really could mean anything. I hang tight at the table and help
myself to the wine, sitting uncorked near the centre piece of the table, just begging
to fill my glass.
At the next
table, I overhear a conversation between one of Charlotte's bridesmaids and
another guest. The bridesmaid is depressed about standing up in yet another
friend's wedding, and is lamenting that her bad luck with men means that she'll
never be the one in the white gown. The waterworks begin, and her friend tells
her dutifully and unconvincingly that it'll happen someday.
The bridal
party is seated at the head table and dinner begins, but there is no sign of
Lester. The other guests at the table seem slightly suspicious of me.
Thankfully, I can keep my face full of food and avoid conversation. Meanwhile, Lester's
empty chair is sending all kinds of icky signals through my body.
Dinner
ends, and the speeches begin. Mr. and Mrs. Tombe bicker through theirs,
admonishing each other for getting story details wrong and for interrupting. But
in the end it is evident that they love each other and hold up as a good
example for Charlotte and Marcus. Their speech ends with a toast and a sweet
kiss between them.
As the
speeches end, the bride and groom descend upon the floor for their first dance,
which is lovely. But when it's time for the guests to cut some rug, the DJ
can't seem to get anybody up on the dance floor. Like a highschool dance where
no one wants to be the first, I find myself hoping that someone will break the
ice; that these two families will finally mix it up and get to know one another
and congeal already.
Then it
occurs to me... I will never see these people again. My presence here has been
uncomfortable and seemingly pointless... until now. So I toss my glass of wine
down my throat and dance my way over into the middle of the floor. Right on
cue, a spotlight shines upon me, and I give it all I've got. I kick off my hell-on-heels
shoes and show them all how it's done. I'm totally ridiculous, flailing and
kicking and thrusting and twirling, but that's kind of the point.
And then it
happens. A table of young girls on Marcus' side join me, followed by a table of
young girls on Charlotte's side. Then the old people get in on it. Soon, the
house is rockin' and poppin' and lockin' and twerkin' and jerkin' and doin' it
gangnam style.
My work
here is done... or is it? I'm still here. And I'm actually kind of having a
good time. A matronly woman joins the dance circle and asks me how I know the
bride. I tell her I don't... I'm a friend of Lester's.
Shit.
Lester. Where is that guy? Suddenly there is a commotion involving a lot of
text messages and phone calls coming in at once on Marcus' side of the family.
Young Gabe has apparently tried to escape from the hospital. He's jumped out
the window... he's okay, he basically jumped from the second story and sprained
his ankle pretty bad, he's back inside being treated for that.
The woman
asks me where Lester is - he's Gabe's godfather. I tell her that before dinner
he told me he had to see a man about a horse. The look on her face tells me
that it almost definitely does not mean he had to pee. A search party is
formed, consisting of everyone on the dance floor and then some. The two
families come together to locate Lester, and I feel like a turd for not
mentioning it sooner.
Lester's
whereabouts are soon discovered. He's been in the bathroom all this time after
all... not peeing, but getting high. He's coming down now, and has finally been
seated at the table. I take my seat next to him. Lester's comings and goings
are hardly any of my business, I realize, so I reserve judgment and simply sit
with him. He settles back in his chair and takes a sip of water from the glass
in front of him. One of Charlotte's bridesmaids approaches and tells Lester he
gave everyone a fright and she's glad he's okay. He nods gentlemanly at her but
says nothing.
As the
festivities wind down, the newlyweds announce that they'll be leaving shortly
on a night flight to Barcelona for their honeymoon. Charlotte has never been
out of the country, and she's a little nervous about flying overseas, but
Marcus assures her that they will have the time of their lives.
And with
that, Charlotte and Marcus exit the reception hall. The DJ continues spinning tunes, and the dance floor is crammed with dancers celebrating the union
of two people they love, with no idea exactly how they will touch each other's
lives before the night is over.
I realize I
probably only have a few minutes before I'm zapped out of this place in space
and time. I turn to Lester and thank him for helping me navigate this visit. I
ask him if I'll ever see him again, but as I say the words I realize that I'm
dealing with infinity, and the chances of visiting his world again are small.
He touches my hand, and I'm gone.
*****
Black Tie White Noise was not love at first listen. But if
I've learned anything from this project, it's that my first impressions are
basically meaningless (Lodger, I'm
looking in your direction -- and loving the shit out of you now). I wouldn't
say I'm in love with Black Tie White
Noise... I wouldn't marry it, but I'd date it for a while and then have
fond memories of it and maybe even go back for a little something something
every now and then... you know friends-with-benefits style. So it has
definitely earned a place in my heart.
If it took
me to a place that's a little on the nose, I'm okay with that. This story was
always going to be about a wedding, and there was always going to be a racial
element. What surprised me was Lester, and his role of usher to visitors who
drop in via some song or painting or film or whatever. I'm finding myself
rather enamoured with that concept, and I'm surprised that it took me this long
to acknowledge it here and to create a "seer" character who knows
what's happening.
With any
luck, I'll run into Lester again someday... lightening can strike the same
place twice, after all.
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