Chapter 36 – Amanda
Thirty-Six
Amanda
The Wedding Plan
I t all happens so quickly after I agree to Ethan’s proposal. I ask him if he just wants to elope, but suggesting elopement only frustrates him more than any of my other suggestions. He just wants the impossible to happen – a wedding before the next quarterly meeting of his biker gang. I mean, club. He insists I refer to those gang activities as “club” activities and I’m not trying to look for any more trouble with this man than I have already.
Do you think this club meeting happens to be situated at a convenient time in the future? No. I have five weeks to plan everything and the woman I would have automatically chosen as my maid-of-honor just left Boston. If I didn’t know any better, I would say Ethan wants to induce a heart attack just as much as he wants to marry me.
“I’ll help you plan,” he says whenever I complain, as if I want to end up with a Kansas City Chiefs themed wedding in the middle of Boston. No, thanks.
After a week of trying to plan a wedding on my own, I allow Ethan to help. I should have trusted him from Day One, because he doesn’t bother trying to take on the details of wedding planning that are better suited for a more… gentle… touch. He brings in reinforcements. After leaving for a “quick ride” in his truck , which was an obvious lie, Ethan returns with a huge surprise – he surprises me with a battalion of Shaw women – Deb, his sisters-in-law, Vickie and Anna, who are black women , a fact he never mentioned.
“There’s another surprise,” he says. “But trust me… I was just as shocked as you’re going to be.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but everyone keeps the secret until 9 p.m. that night, when the doorbell rings during our sparkling wine infused planning session. A tall, red-haired man built like a sequoia tree walks through our front door with… my cousin. Keyshawn.
“SURPRISE!” she shrieks, throwing her arms around me while I just stand there with a dumb expression on my face. The redhead walks in with a black leather jacket covered in patches. Same motorcycle club. I am too dumb-founded to speak. How the hell did Ethan figure this out and… why didn’t I?!
After hugging it out, Keyshawn and I try to catch up on our story lines while Ethan leads her big ginger into the other room for a drink of water. We spend all night drawing up vision boards, writing down phone numbers and coming up with a loose plan for how we’re going to get this wedding done in such a short space of time.
I don’t think I would be able to do it alone and… I didn’t expect to do it without Mallory.
* * *
The Wedding Day
I haven’t seen Ethan for over 24 hours. We thought the time apart before our actual wedding day would make the ceremony and our wedding night more romantic. For our honeymoon, we’re heading out west to a town called Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I don’t know much about it, but Ethan promises me I’ll have fun “even if I don’t ski or snowboard”. Not exactly comforting words from your white husband-to-be, but at this point, I’m committed to trusting this wild man and allowing him to drag me on a crazy adventure.
As long as there are no rattlesnakes and I can get a hot shower… I’m sure I’ll make it just fine.
Keyshawn wakes me up the morning of my wedding with a delicious green smoothie and coffee. It means a lot to have her here, but I wish Mallory were here too and feel guilty for allowing the one person I don’t have with me to mess with my mood when everyone else put their lives on hold to plan the perfect wedding for me and Ethan.
It’s like Keyshawn can read my mind.
“Is this about your bestie who ran off?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, girl. If my husband wasn’t drunk right now, I’d send him to get her.”
“From where? She disappeared and honestly… Maybe it’s for the best. Her family is part of some crazy ass Italian mob and… let’s just say the bikers seem more tethered to reality.”
Keyshawn laughs, but nods along with me. “As crazy as it is for me to be saying this… agreed. They have their flaws but at the end of the day, who doesn’t want to get drunk and play a little poker.”
“You gamble now?”
“Deacon doesn’t like it but… I’ve hustled a few of his friends.”
“You’re crazy.”
“A little,” Keyshawn admits. “Ready to get married, cousin?”
“Yes. Have our family members arrived yet?”
I sent out invitations, but I haven’t been taking calls or questions from our unhinged family about my future spouse. I know everyone would give me shit for marrying a white guy – mostly because they never saw it coming and a few of them hold onto this idea that I can manifest a perfect black love out of thin air. I just want to get married in peace.
Either sing along and clap at the ceremony or… don’t come.
But I want them to come. I’ve had a tense relationship with everyone since I chose to become a therapist, since I chose not to solve all my family’s problems and since… I put that distance there myself to find peace. It would be good if this wedding could heal us.
“Not yet,” Keyshawn says. “But they’ll be here. Congratulations, by the way… I didn’t think anybody could get me to confess I married a white boy.”
“It’s a joint confession. That should make it easier.”
“Come on,” Keyshawn says, reaching for my hand. “Let’s get you dressed up for your sexy beast. I need time to cornrow the front of your hair.”
Getting ready for the wedding ceremony takes over two hours and it’s hard to sit still or stay patient – especially since Keyshawn won’t let me see my hair and makeup until it’s done.
“Trust me, it’s a masterpiece.”
“I’d better not look like boo boo the fool…”
When she reveals her final look, I don’t recognize myself. Should I be doing this natural, clean makeup every day? Where did she find a foundation that matches my skin tone? Also, I am meant for these long lashes. Anna and Vickie help get me into the dress, which squeezes my boobs together so tightly that all the mid-thirties sagging disappears. I look… like a bride.
Once I’m ready, Keyshawn whisks me off to greet our family members who all descended on Boston ready to share their opinions and snap photos with the flash turned on unnecessarily. It’s pure chaos, but they somehow all made it to the ceremony and they all compliment my appearance, with only my aunt making a comment about the “white boy” I’m marrying.
Ma’am. Ethan is a whole ass man. He’s not just a “white boy”.
My father doesn’t make a big deal out of the whole situation – I’ve seen him more animated about football games – but he does insist on walking me down the aisle. That’s the one part of this whole chaotic mess he cares about and who the hell am I to deny the man his role in the situation? It’s all he asked for and… they brought a gift.
Quietly, without judgment or interference, my father links arms with me and walks me down the short aisle of our venue – a rented mansion on the outskirts of Boston – to face… Ethan. My future husband.
“That’s a big man,” my father says. And that’s all he has to say about Ethan.
* * *