A Not So Presidential Debate

 Confession: I have never been eligible to vote in an election.

Crazy, right?

When I lived in Nigeria, I was too young to be eligible, and my adult life has been mostly spent in one of the hardest places to qualify to vote…not the story today, though. I reckon the earliest I will be eligible will be sometime in 2022, and I’m looking forward to it! Such a grown-up thing!

Now, with all the talk about elections, I figure there’s no better time to put aside my undying reluctance to comment on social issues publicly and share some of my thoughts around actual conversations I have had in the last few months. I’ll say now that I don’t care who anyone but my future spouse votes for; never have, never will. But I do care that you vote, and here are some reasons and rebuttals to your favorite excuses…

Is everyone doing it? Yes, all the grownups are. Voting, that is.

The majority of my adult life has been spent in America, and I find that most Americans are quick to try to distance themselves from the less than stellar state of social dynamics in the country. (Side note: I think it happens everywhere, but Americans are pretty vocal on most issues, and so it comes across far more frequently.) People are quick to point out that they are not the issue while accepting that, on some level, there are issues to address. But. We are the ones who care, the good ones, who want to fix things, but they – the government, the banks, the rich, other people groups, everyone else – they are the problem, and they seemingly cannot be stopped. When it comes to elections, the sentiment is similar. The candidates are all terrible. I live in a [insert primary color here] state so it really doesn’t matter. I call BS. And let’s not even get into the fact that elections are far less about the headliners (presidents) and way more importantly about the grassroots (all things local). Yes, it builds up over time, and yes there are long-standing systems that make things a lot more difficult than they need to be, but ultimately every society is a product of the actions of those who care enough to shape the narrative by creating change (or shape the narrative by keeping things the same!), even in as simple matters as voting in all elections. I have friends who won’t vote in the upcoming elections, I am ashamed of them and I no longer believe their lies about not liking the state of things and wanting change. Wishing for a difference is not a noble pursuit, doing something is. And doing something tangible in the real world is what I mean (no knocks to digital activism, it has its merits, but not in matters of putting a ballot in a box, nothing replaces that).This is not about what issues you hang your hat on or who you want to champion, but for goodness sake do wake up and take a stand somewhere. Do some soul searching, figure out some of the things that matter to you and put your weight behind those things with a ‘pencil mark’ on a ballot. It might take time to feel like your voice is leading to change. But that is where we build conviction. Maybe this is how we all figure out who we are and what we are about. 

Jesus would have voted. Who He would have voted for is not the point. And who you vote for is not my point either.

I don’t believe there is a right or wrong way to vote, unless you are voting against your values or convictions. There is no Christian way of voting. You should have convictions, strong enough that they put steel in your spine, and then you should go out and push for those convictions. Can our convictions be wrong or misguided? Absolutely. And every one of us has a responsibility to sit with Jesus and our convictions and work out the values that make us proud to live each day. And then let God shape those beliefs until they put fire in you to take a stand and fight for them. It’s that simple. This is about you and what you stand for. And I’ll be honest, the state of American politics means you will be walking in some pretty gray areas, so welcome to adulthood! However, we should all get educated and learn as much as we can, and just freaking act. There are too many people actively sticking to the sidelines and doing nothing but clucking at the news, and that is exactly what Jesus never did.

You cannot legislate the gospel…

I think the laziest thing Christians could do, the biggest disservice to the world around us, is to attempt to use human or moral law to force our version of Christian living on others. I find that when it comes to both sides of the political coin, the focus is on pushing to elect those who will serve what we believe to be the right way for people to live. Nothing wrong with that, that’s what voting is. But when we don’t want to do the work of reaching people one loving interaction at a time, and so we hope we can force everyone into a set of rules enforced by human law that will make them all into ‘good’ people, that’s us being unloving. We were not called to go into all the world and elect governments that will stop abortions or make people treat one another kindly (by all means if those are the things you care about, vote for candidates who champion those causes). But we do not get to vote away our obligation to love people to life one person at a time. No matter how closely the constitution resembles the ten commandments, history has shown that we still have to go out there and do the work. That will never change. And it should take the pressure off the fretful need to vote solely to evangelize the world. We do what we should and so create space for God to do what He can.

I’ll keep this short because there’s more than enough people telling us all what we should do. I just hope we all think about this and find a way to not let future selves down.  

If you care, vote. Vote, because you care, and when you’re done voting, get back out there and do other things that show you care.

I love you, but first, VOTE.

xoxo

Our Family Wedding VIII: All in The Family

 Encore. I love stories. Words. The way perspectives can be completely changed with just a well-placed word or nudged with a subtle suggestion here and there. There’s nothing like it. I really love this story because it’s one that I was excited to share from the beginning, with no idea how it would end, that never happens. It was fun discovering how it unfolded along with everyone else when I first shared, but I have to confess I always felt disappointed by the ending. So I was excited last winter when I was approached to submit the Family Wedding series for an audio webcast. It was a chance to revisit the characters and find an ending that felt true - it’s still the beginning of something, and it gives as many questions as answers. But I like it...

Our Family Wedding VII: Strangers at the Wedding

Previously: Our Family Wedding VI (Velda)

“I Do.” Two words, and you change the lives of everyone in a room, even if you don’t know them. If looks could kill… but there’s no going back now. You’re here and, even though you don’t want to, it’s too late to take it back. You came to right a wrong, maybe even repay a little bit of the hurt that’s been eating at you for years. But you don’t expect to be surprised. This is not a dream. You’re looking right at them and you can hardly get the next words out. Still, you already spoke up. 

"She cannot marry him. She is married to me."

(Him) Bad Things Happen to Good People.

I met her in my second year in college, at the Vet's office in the city. It was one of the many jobs I took to cover my tuition expenses. It was an ordinary day, and it changed my life forever. She was a beauty. I knew I did not stand a chance with her – girls like her never gave guys like me a second look. But she never did play by anyone's rules but hers. And she wanted me; she always joked that I reminded her of a guy back home who loved her almost as much as I did. She also joked that her parents would die if they ever found out who she was with. And then one day a year later she asked me to marry her.

I thought it was another one of the cruel jokes she played on everyone for her own enjoyment, but she was serious. We loved each other and she was willing to defy her parents for me. We were married secretly, and we promised ourselves a one-month honeymoon before we would tell everyone and face the consequences. She disappeared three weeks later, and I never heard from her again. Her friends who only tolerated me when I was with her could not hide their disdain for me as they made it clear that my wife was gone, and she did not want to be found.

I spent months trying to deal with losing her. But then there was a tragic murder in our family, so I gave up on finding her and returned home to run the business. 

Until an invitation I could not ignore showed up in the mail.

(Her) Good Things Happen to Bad People too...

That's what I said to myself when she announced she was getting married, and to a prince, no less. She was so happy, it was painful to watch. She finally had everything, it seemed - a fantastic wedding in the works, a wonderful charming husband-to-be, a childhood love that refused to let go, tons of money and friends, the love of everyone around her, a perfect life. Her bright smile never wavered. Dress shopping, flowers, the honeymoon. Guest lists, linens, too many bridal showers. The perfection of it all. I hated her more than usual. Living in the shadow of her perfect, happy bubble was suffocating. But soon I learned something that could bring it all crashing down like a pack of cards. And it all happened by accident. Lucky me.

Velda learned that the young Bride had married a boy at her university two days after it happened. But it was not to last. She had one weakness and Velda knew it. A ten-minute phone call was all it took, and two weeks later she was on a plane to France where she would complete her semester, and then travel around the world for a year before returning to a college of her choice, anywhere else in the world. It would be like her marriage had never happened. Only, Velda discovered much later that she disappeared without first ending the marriage as instructed, no papers were ever signed before she rushed off and disappeared. She claims she couldn’t bring herself to hurt her innocent, young husband, the one person she ever truly loved. That was surprising. Velda had it taken care of, of course, she never leaves a stone unturned, after all. Still, it was the perfect chance to shake her perfect little world up a bit and make this wedding fun, for me.

Now, we’re all looking at the only stranger in the room as he unfolds himself to stand tall on his feet. He looks surprised, like he cannot believe what he just did... but… more. He’s dazed, shocked. I feel almost sorry for him, but I know that now he has no choice. This is not something you can ever take back.

One would think that no one would be more surprised to see him than the bride, but the look of horror on her groom’s face is enough to get me curious. He looks like he has seen a ghost, and suddenly more things are falling into place...

The man who dared to stop the wedding walks up the aisle, and as he moves closer to her you could see him transform; his confidence grows and suddenly he exudes such an aura of rage that we are all held spellbound by what we know is about to happen...

"You cannot marry the one man who murdered my brother in cold blood and killed my mother with grief.”

There is a gasp from all the guests, a mumbled accusation from the groom, and tears from the bride. Even her tears are perfect. But right now, we are not looking at her. All eyes are on the only stranger in the room...

Coming up: Our Family Wedding VIII (All in the Family)

Isaiah

I woke up the other day thinking about him. The funny thing is I’ve never met him. No one has. 

A few years ago in January after a women’s meeting at church, our meeting coordinator asked a few of us stragglers to clear out the treats and snacks that had been brought for the meeting. No one wanted them (January Mood), and so she insisted we take them, and “at least give them to a homeless person”. And how can anyone say no to that?

He was laying in the recessed window outside a restaurant I loved. And once we felt comfortable from afar that he didn’t look dangerous, we approached and asked if we could share some food with him, explaining what treats we had and asking what he wanted.

Side bar: the fact that someone is hungry or down and out does not rob them of the dignity of choice. I learned that in early years dealing with the homeless in DC. Side bar end. 

He was friendly and engaged, asked us questions about ourselves, the meeting we had been at, our church. Then he told us his story. He’d had a pretty good life: a job, a home, a wife. They had been pregnant. A boy. They were going to call him Isaiah. 

But Isaiah came with a storm. Things went wrong, she almost died. Isaiah only lived a few minutes. 

Somehow after that, everything was broken. One mistake leading to another until you’re sleeping in a restaurant window in Tribeca, and your old life is so far behind it doesn’t even seem real. 

I remember his face when he says Isaiah. That one look of such intense longing. That maybe if Isaiah had stuck around, everything would be ok. 

Or maybe not, who knows? 

Today when I thought of Isaiah, I was reminded that sometimes all it takes is one moment we don’t see coming to change a whole life. Makes you think the next time you look a person in the eyes: what was the moment that changed you?

Our Family Wedding VI: Velda

 There is Nothing I Love better than the sound of silence.

As the preacher pauses dramatically at that unnecessary part of the wedding service, I can feel the nervous energy rise to a crescendo in the room. You could hear a feather drop as they all stop breathing. Even though most of them expect that it will be another part of the service, simply a formality, they cannot help their excitement, their anticipation of something extraordinary. 

And then an unfamiliar voice cuts through the silence.

"I DO"... A wildly interesting choice of words.

I smile in spite of myself. I had not expected it. Very few people surprise Velda.

I turn my attention from the oddly familiar stranger’s interruption to look into the faces around me. Every guest looks confused, shocked, wildly curious. I can hear their minds working, spinning the gossip tales they would tell as soon as they can make a dignified exit out of the oak doors of the chapel without running.

The Bride: pale as a ghost, her lips moving, no words really getting formed.

The Groom: if looks could kill.... well, it's no secret that he is capable of murder.

The Groom's Father: Bored, irritated, a man with more important things on his mind.

The Mother of the Bride: Mortified. I know that at this moment there is nothing else on her mind besides what people will say, what the gossip rags will print about the scandal that is about to unfold here. I know because that is exactly what I would be thinking. After all, she is my daughter...

I was born on the fast track. No one recalls if the first word I ever said was "More", but it is most certainly the first thought I ever formed in my pretty little head. More. I have always wanted more. More than those humble two rooms that formed the house I was raised in with my entire family, all six of us. More than my father's job at the Postal Office, and my mother's teaching job at the Catholic School up the street. More than the tiny shop out front that we all took turns managing, earning pennies to keep the roof over our heads and the clothes on our backs. More than the regular occurrence of a free novel and a bright pencil for once again being the smartest one in the class. More than that whistle, that longing look, the scribbled poems and whispered words that men lavished on me. There was only one thing I never needed more of: I was more than beautiful, and everyone knew it.

Working hard, being a great student and settling for the best jobs in the world would not give me the life I wanted. My parents were smart, educated and they worked harder than all the wealthy people I knew, and they worked themselves to the bone day after weary day. I wanted to be like the women I read about and only saw in magazines; they had the world at their feet, and everyone scrambled to do their bidding. I learned to think like them and talk like them and act like them. I watched their men too, they owned everything, even the women. That was the life I chose, all I needed was a fortune to call my own. As soon as I was old enough, I was out of school, choosing to use my beauty and my intelligence for a far greater purpose. I was married and divorced a few times, each time ending up even richer than anyone imagined I could get away with.

People always thought I was too beautiful to be smart.

George's family did too and they underestimated me. He was seventy-nine, battling the weakness that comes with old age, confused that his mind was as sharp as the days when he built the largest business empire in the country while his body died a little more every day. While everybody rallied around, his sons and protégés, treating him with disdain and waiting for him to die and leave them chunks of his life's work, I became his friend. I was barely thirty, and I married him and devoted three years to him alone, showing him the time of his life. He taught me how to rule an empire. "Owning wealth is wonderful", he always said, "but you have to control the people around you. You have to own them." I gave him the one gift he asked of me in return for the one thing I wanted: a little girl of his own in exchange for wealth and an empire. We spent the last few years together in a secluded villa outside the country, and when he was gone, his only daughter and I were heiresses with more money than I knew what to do with. 

We had both won. He showed them all, leaving his family with nothing, and I finally had what I wanted, a kingdom to rule. 

A mysterious heiress, that is what they call me. Some even say I killed him myself after he signed the will.

I bought the villa the morning he died, hired the best caregivers in the world for my daughter, and I returned home alone. For six years she was raised in the villa by herself, protected from the world. Years later, I brought her home with me claiming her real parents had died tragically in another country. I told myself it is for her safety that no one knows that she really is mine. 

But I have always looked after her. She has never worked a day in her life, and everything she owns has been handed to her on a platter of gold, including her husband, her marriage. I ask for nothing in return from her, from all of them, except complete obedience. I own them, all of them in this room, their businesses, their homes, their secrets.

It is not really a secret that I do not approve of this laughable charade, this marriage that will never be. But even the most powerful people get tired of pulling all the strings and working behind the scenes. I am an old woman, ready to dance with the devil for eternity and pay for my many sins. It is not enough to be rich and famous and powerful and then die while no one is watching. I want more. And now it seems I have found my stage.

I look at all their faces again and smile to myself. More.

Coming up: Our Family Wedding VII (Strangers at the Wedding)

Our Family Wedding V: Father of the Groom

Nine Hours Before I have to be on a plane to Mexico. Six hours ago, I should have been in a meeting with the team in Canada. Oil in Canada will not wait for my son's wedding.

My Son. 

I could not control the loud scoff that escaped my lips with that thought if I tried. But I quickly remember where I am as my wife pinches my arm, reminding me to behave myself. I attempt to stare her down with a dark look; a futile attempt really, the woman has never been a pushover, or we wouldn't be here. A supportive family putting on a lavish ceremony for our undeserving son. The bane of my existence. A murderer, a waste. If I had my way he would be far away, a destitute, not living off my wealth like he has a right to it. But his mother always has the last word, and because she wants us to be here, here we are. 

For a man feared by many, my wife has a big influence on most of my actions. Lesser men would say she wears the pants in our home. I say, I love her, and why not indulge the woman who has sacrificed most of her life to give me a wonderful home? I know I am a difficult man, and yet she has never complained. Letting her have this day is one of the ways I reward her for pleasing me. 

Of course, there is another woman here who holds the reins on my decisions even more firmly than my wife does. Her wishes to me are law. I look to my left and watch in fond amusement as she sits still in her pew, her back straight, eyes fixed on an unseen object in the front of the chapel. Velda. Tough matriarch. The single most feared woman in the room. And my benefactor.

No one remembers now, but there was a time when my now-sprawling empire was only a far-fetched dream. I was a young man with a shell of an inheritance and big dreams, and no means of ever achieving them. And then a mysterious heiress changed my whole life in one afternoon. No one really knows the true source of Velda's wealth, and naturally I was curious, but when she offered me her unlimited means to pursue my dreams of reviving my family’s legacy by tapping into the earth's liquid gold, I asked no questions. In seven years, I was wealthier than I had ever imagined. And now, thirty years later, Velda still remains in the background, giving advice, planning the great future, pulling the strings, learning my many secrets...

Like my son. 

Many years ago, I had gone to Velda with fury and murder on my mind. My wife had come to me with good news that after years of trying unsuccessfully to have a child, she was finally pregnant. I knew without a doubt that she had been unfaithful, it was impossible for me to have children. Velda had listened quietly, without judgement, speaking only after I said all that was on my mind. She looked me in the eyes and said firmly "You will go home, tell your wife that you are happy and excited about the news, and you will love that child like he was your own. You need an heir. No one ever needs to know. No one." It was difficult, but Velda was right. So, I accepted my first son, and my twin daughters, knowing every day of their lives that they were proof of the greatest betrayal from the woman I loved with my whole being.

Only, a secret I thought I could live with turned out to be almost too much to handle. Our son grew from a delightful boy into a reckless young man. The ungrateful bastard has caused me and his mother more grief than any other problems we have ever had to deal with. From the horrible behavior all through his younger years, to more dangerous activities as a teenager, all culminating in the murder of an innocent man outside a bar abroad. At every turn, his mother pleaded and I obliged her, paying off the best lawyers to make his troubles go away. But after he was convicted, I knew that he could never inherit my empire. His mother asks why I hate him, it is not hard to point at his actions instead of his conception...

I look away from him and exchange a nod and smile with his Best Man. He could be my heir. He lost his family at a young age and we officially adopted him as our own. It was the best decision we ever made. He is everything I want in a son: smart, respectful, responsible. Velda agrees. It was also a brilliant coincidence that he was in love with Velda's god-daughter. We had it all planned out, we would wait until she was done with her MBA, and guide them gently into a lasting relationship together. He would be my heir, she would be Velda's heiress, as well as her father's. Together, we would create the greatest empire in the country, and I would finally have a son I could be proud of.

But as she walks down the aisle towards the wrong son, I have no choice but to accept that even without a penny to his name, he has again thwarted my plans, reminding me why I hate him so much. But there is still time to put our plans together. Velda has a plan and she is patient. So am I.

We all face the priest.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join this Man and this Woman together in holy matrimony; which is honorable, instituted of God..."

God. This needs to be over soon. I glance at Velda and her displeasure is evident on her face. I always wondered why she never said anything to stop this sham. But as I have learned, things are never as they seem with her. The priest continues to drone on and on about the sanctity of marriage, I tune him out as I rehearse again the few words I have prepared to sway the Board of the new company I am acquiring.

"Now, if anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace..."

The silence gets my attention and I look around. Everyone is staring at the one person who dared to interrupt this joyous occasion. And for the first time, Velda may be smiling...

Coming up: Our Family Wedding VI (Velda)

Our Family Wedding IV: Mother of the Bride

Fifty-Five Years Old and still as dumb as the day I got here.

Every day since I have had breasts, I have gotten myself into one kind of trouble or another. And it always comes back to bite me right where it hurts...

Or at least leer at me like my son-in-law's best man is doing right now... in front of 350 guests. What an irreverent imp!

I have stooped low many times in the past years, but my daughter's best friend is a mistake that I will never be able to explain, if it ever got out. It had meant nothing at first when I started to flirt with him at a wedding many months ago. Ever since I turned fifty, I had been feeling old, and something inside of me craved attention, and passion, anything to feel young and attractive again. Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered that he wanted me too. What started out as thinly veiled banter quickly escalated, and before I knew it, we were upstairs together in the Mayor's Manor while the entire city partied the night away at the biggest wedding of the year. It was so exciting, and a part of me wanted to get caught. How envious would my friends have been? Only I could still command the attention of a twenty-something young man. Just http://adeolawrites.com/what I needed.

But at the back of my mind was one thought. He is in love with my daughter.

I have seen the way he looks at her with naked, intense longing when he thinks no one is watching. For so many years I was convinced he was the one for her. No one has ever been as devoted to her as he is. All her life he has followed her everywhere like a lost puppy and I’m not so surprised that she does not seem to notice. I see myself in her, a self-absorbed princess who barely sees anyone but herself in a room. She is spoiled, just like me, and she feeds off the adoration of others, expecting nothing less than their undivided attention at all times. 

I really feel no sympathy for her love-struck friend, he had his chance through all the years he wasted being just friends with her. Good thing he has kept our affair to himself, no reason to create a scandal. What was I thinking? If this ever got out... If any of the things I have done ever get out...

I distract myself from my wayward thoughts by checking everything over one more time with my well-trained eye. The flower arrangements are beautiful, flawless; they will be imitated by many brides in the coming months. The guests are seated just the way I planned, beautiful people in prime spots for the pictures, and the others tucked neatly in corners where they will not be photographed. I should commend the ushers for doing a neat job. Everyone is right where I want them to be; everyone except Aunt Velda, of course. No one tells her what to do. If only she would just smile. It is a happy day! It should be a happy day...

My baby is finally about to marry the man of her dreams. He is a charming young man, from a highly respectable family. And even when I voiced my fears about the speed of their courtship, her father insisted that it is a good match. I know what he really means is that merging his company and the new in-laws' in the future is a good idea. But still, he is her father...

Or is he?

The first time I was introduced to my future son-in-law, my heart stopped. Everything about him was so familiar. Memories of the early days of my marriage came flooding back. 

My wedding was a grand affair, much like this one. I was the talk of the town for many months. But wedded life was not what I expected. My new, rich husband had no time for me. Gone was the attentive, dashing man that courted me for many months. Suddenly he was busy at all hours of the day. I spent many lonely afternoons while I listened in on business conference calls and pretended to be interested in his new ideas and his work. My young ambitious husband was caught up with building his empire.

I was bored out of my mind, tired of shopping, tired of long days at the spa. Tired of the gossipy wives club. Being a trophy wife was starting to feel like a chore. Until he suggested that I take my first vacation: he pointed to the globe on his desk "pick any point on the map. I'll pay for it". My first holiday was an exotic island: it was a wonderful time. The sights, the food, the men: charming gentlemen, older, more worldly, distinguished and very determined. It was not hard to break my vows and allow myself to be seduced. It was my delicious secret. As my husband got busier I took more trips, until I came home with a secret that became a baby girl. That stopped me in my wayward tracks, and I was a faithful dutiful wife for the two years until her sister was born. 

They are exactly alike in almost every way. Maybe I am afraid for nothing, but I wonder every day...

The music begins and I watch tearfully as my daughter floats down the aisle on my husband's arm. She is so beautiful. At least I got that right. My heart swells with love for her, but it leaves an after-taste of intense fear...

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join this Man and this Woman together in holy matrimony; which is honorable..."

I can’t say why but my palms are sweaty now, my heart beating in fear of something. Can I allow her to take this big step with this intense dread of something creeping up on me? What kind of mother am I? I have not prepared her to be a married woman. What if she ends up like me? Makes my mistakes? She knows nothing about being a wife, nothing about making compromises and sacrifices for another person. She is not ready... The thoughts are tumbling over themselves in my head...

"Now, if anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace..."

I feel dizzy. Now is the time. She will hate me forever. Before I allow my head to stop me from doing what my heart knows is right, I hear the words whispered over the nervous silence of the chapel "I DO"

Oh God. Did I do that?

Coming up: Our Family Wedding V (Father of the Groom)

Our Family Wedding III: Best Man

Weddings.

The air is steaming with the sweet aroma of desperate women. I don’t know what it is about happy weddings that creates sad, lonely, ready-for-anything women. They are everywhere, and they are always trying to prove something. It’s funny that by June every year you can already spot the serial wedding-hounds. Like Daisy - Lord bless those endless legs - and her exotic frienemy, Jummai. It would be awesome to get them together in one room. That would be a party. And then there were the older women who prowled weddings looking for fresh blood to make them feel young again. Those were the ones who let loose with such abandon that would make their younger competition blush. Almost everything I know, all the tricks that have women coming back to beg for more, I learned from an older woman.

Speaking of older women, it is taking a lot of restraint not to wink at The Mother of The Bride as she sits over there primly, doing her darnedest not to look at me. But her respectable attire does not fool me one bit. There is a feisty nymph inside those respectable motherly clothes. But this is not the time or place. Not that I really want to, but I never do what I should. Or is it that I always do what I shouldn’t. For now, I put my lustful thoughts aside and turn my attention with the rest of the guests as they rise up to welcome The Bride.

The glowing, blushing bride.

My girl.

I have known her since high school when she was a sassy little know-it-all, and many years later I still feel that intense sense of protectiveness towards her. Even now, I want to snarl at every man in the chapel and growl, "Mine. She's Mine."

The same way I almost did when my best friend proudly announced to me that he was going to make her his wife. I held back then, thinking that he was baiting me into admitting what he had hinted at all these years – that I was in love with her. Besides, she was not remotely his type, and everyone knew he was still disgustingly in love with the ex-girlfriend who dumped him and fled to Europe. Wonder what happened to her... It was a huge shock when she came to me with stars in her eyes and told me she had decided to date him, saying how sooooo perfect he was. I could not believe my ears, I never imagined someone like her could be remotely interested in someone like him and I truly regretted introducing them.

She had just graduated from business school and had come for a short visit, to relax and catch up. I think deep down I was hoping that now that she was all grown up, something would blossom between us. Unfortunately, my best friend had shown up uninvited to talk about his runaway girlfriend and see if I had any new information about her. It was a funny story really: he swore to everyone that he had done nothing wrong and that he was in love with her, but her family protected her from him like he was the devil. After many weeks, the subject was tiring, and I just wanted him gone. So, I did the selfish thing and asked her to take him to a local bar while I finished up some made-up work I brought home with me. I knew she would not be impressed with him and would find an excuse to get rid of him soon enough. But something must have happened that night because a complete change came over him and he started to pursue her like crazy... and now, in less than a year, they are getting married... and I am still surprised by it all.

I look at her smiling and glowing as she floats down the aisle and I literally stop breathing. It's no secret by now that I am in love with her. I have always loved her. But when someone has so much power over you, you do everything you can not to fall into their hands. Because then they can really hurt you. The more I loved her the more distance I put between us. And now it is too late; because how do I say to the only person I have ever loved "I love you, but I slept with your mother six months ago, because I wanted you..." I feel the sting of something that feels very strangely like tears as I realize I am losing her forever and I look away. 

The mistake I make is looking sideways at my best friend.

The look in his eyes as he watches her coming down the aisle is cold, calculating, almost hateful. If I did not know him, I would say he had the look of a killer, and even though he is not looking at me I shiver a little.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join this Man and this Woman together..."

Who is this man?

I have known him very well for years. And even when he has been away in school or taking care of family business we have managed to stay in touch. And I owe him my life: after my parents died and I had no one, his family took me in as one of them. They are responsible for my education, my comfortable life, everything. But they have always had their secrets. And as I look at her over his shoulder, I feel the cold hands of fear squeezing me so hard that I can hardly breathe. I cannot, will not, let her marry this stranger...

"Now, if anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace..."

I open my mouth to speak, and before the words are formed in my mind, I hear them echo throughout the chapel "I DO"

No one is as surprised as I am...

Coming up: Our Family Wedding IV (Mother of the Bride)

Our Family Wedding II: Groom

Once upon a time I had given up hope that good things could happen to me…

Really good things.

But as the doors of the chapel open up to let in the radiant sun and her, I realize that everything I want is right there at the end of the petal-covered aisle, in a dreamy dress that makes me think of a field of flowers, a hammock swaying lightly in the breeze, a lazy summer day in a French village. She is the girl of my dreams, my answer, my whole world. I watch her face light up as she walks confidently, a princess claiming her kingdom, and my heartbeat dances. It is finally happening. This woman with her beautiful mind and gorgeous body and infectious smile is about to become mine. Her smile slips for a second and I follow her gaze to the middle of the room to some guy. He’s a nobody, someone she cheated with early in our relationship. I knew, and it was over almost before it started.

It is the only time she ever cheated. I made sure.

It is good to know that I know everything about her, all her secrets, just the way it should be. I should have him escorted out after the ceremony however, just because I can. I dismiss him and turn my attention back to her. She really is beautiful, and I knew from that first day I met her that I would do anything I could to make her mine. And here we are. It feels like everything is finally going to be alright. She steps up beside me and squeezes my hand as we face the priest.

The priest smiles at us and pats our shoulders. I cringe inwardly. I do not like priests....

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God..."

God. Yeah right. For me, there has only been one reason ever to get married. God has nothing to do with it. Or maybe he does. Meeting her when I did was definitely a miracle.

My best friend had talked about his beautiful, spoiled little rich princess friend forever. At first, I thought he had a thing for her, he could never shut up about all the things she did while they were in high school, and all the time she was in her private college far away. But he insisted over and over that she was not his type, and was too quick to shove us together that first day at his apartment. Just the miracle I needed...

No one here knows that I am the Black Sheep of my family. The Fallen Heir. The disgraced son. Only my mother's pleading and my father's pride have prevented it from becoming a national scandal. I could just picture the headlines: "Oil Magnate's Son disowned and banished from Family Business" "Family Secrets: What Really Happened Abroad?"

Luckily, I have been spared the public humiliation. But as much as we present a united front to the world, my father has ensured that I will have to depend on him for as long as he lives or face the world with all that I have done, with no hope of ever having the kind of money I am accustomed to. The money that is my birthright. How I hate the sanctimonious bastard! 

Sure, I made some mistakes; I got caught up, I did some dangerous things. That's what young men do. The drugs are only for fun, an escape to free my head of the tediousness of too many years of school. At first the arrests were minor, overnight. A bar fight here, a drunken misdemeanor there. A warning phone call from the old man, a tearful, pleading visit from mother dearest. Always, the news was covered up quickly, the records quietly buried. Until that one night. I still swear he was alive when I left him on the sidewalk, bloody and whimpering. But the cops showed up later at my condo with warrants and handcuffs: Everyone had heard me threaten to kill him. Everyone saw me beat the crap out of him. No one saw him move after I left. Manslaughter. I got 7 years because my father got the best lawyers money could buy, and served 4 years for being the best-behaved inmate anyone ever met. But it was too late. He had cut me off, without him I was as good as a pauper. No education, living under his roof and taking scraps from his lofty table, a hired “son”. 

So, I had to marry a princess, someone with an empire waiting to be taken over. The first few did not work out. They always ran, saying I was too angry, too violent. And then her. The first-born daughter of one of the few men whose wealth could rival my father's. He would need a capable son-in-law, and I vowed I would be that man. It was not hard to explain away my spotty past; our family has holdings in many corners of the world and it only made sense I would be off getting a true education in business. My family would never reveal their secret, and the truth was too far-fetched for anyone who wasn't looking to imagine... It was a whirlwind romance, but who could blame us? I am a man in love. She is smitten. Her sappy parents are happy. My family is relieved and too eager to help me at my game. Everybody wins... 

"Now, if anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace..."

I scoff. Who would dare mess with me now? Until I hear the words, barely above a whisper, "I DO" 

I turn around with a murderous glare in my eyes...

Coming up: Our Family Wedding III (Best Man)

Our Family Wedding I: Bride [re]

Something Blue is really really tight...

I wiggle a little as the elastic band of the pale blue garter digs into my left thigh. Serves me right for letting my jealous little sister pick out my wedding lingerie; she must have picked a smaller size on purpose. Now I am really looking forward to the garter-toss, not just because of the magic of having my future husband touch me intimately – in front of everyone we know. That is the part of the ceremony I have looked forward to since we agreed not to be intimate a whole month before the wedding. But first, I have to get married.

The string quartet strikes the first chords of the wedding march.

There's a smile and a thumbs up from the wedding planner.

Daddy smiles proudly as he kisses my forehead and pulls the tulle veil over my eyes, and we move towards the aisle, just like we practiced.

Glide. 

We step into the doorway of the chapel hall and I scan the crowd quickly. My eyes stop on someone and the music in my head screeches to a clanging halt. I feel like I have tripped over my dress but a glance at the guests show nothing is amiss. 

Glide. 

"How DARE he show up at my wedding?!" The smirk on his face tells me he knows I am uncomfortable, and he is fine with it. This was an invitation his inner imp would never turn down. I turn my nose up inwardly and continue to move. Our fling only lasted a minute, a long long time ago, and unless he has pictures, I will be denying any claims he ever makes. Plus, he’s not the only one here. Of course, I have a Past. But, since then, I have had bigger problems to worry about. 

I smile at everyone, but I avoid making eye contact with those on the groom's side of the aisle. Something about the way they look at me. 

Everyone is smiling. Except Velda. I wish Velda would smile one day in her life. But even her ever-sour and disapproving face cannot dampen my bright mood today. 

Glide. 

I see some people dab at tears in their eyes, sweet. And I ignore the catty looks from the high society witches, all of them beneath me but invited today, just to keep the peace. 

The Best Man seems to have tears sparkling right there on his impossibly long lashes. I look away from him quickly. The flower arrangements look absolutely gorgeous, Mother sure deserves a medal. Everything looks wonderful. Everyone looks wonderful.

Finally, when I cannot take it anymore, I look at Him. My Groom. The Man of My Dreams.

He looks so handsome. And ecstatic, and only slightly… terrified?

As I step beside him, I take his hand and squeeze reassuringly, and we face the priest together.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today...." 

The words take me back to another wedding, only six months ago... I was standing in the bridal party for one of my best friends when I started to feel like I would faint, right there on the marble floors of Our Lady of Fatima. Nausea rolled over me in waves. I was so frightened that it took a minute to realize what was happening. Morning Sickness. Only it was 3pm on a sunny afternoon in front of hundreds of guests at a huge society wedding. I concentrated with all my strength to hold my smile in place and not give in to the urge to run out of the hall and find the nearest restroom. Inside I was shaking. A wedding was not the place to do anything without getting everyone's attention. I looked around at all my friends in the hall and realized I could not tell anyone what was happening to me, not with the high stakes involved. Good thing my fiancée was away on a business trip. I survived the long wedding ceremony and attempted to sneak into the bathroom two times during the exhausting reception to heave out my already empty stomach. Hours later, I escaped with wedding-planning excuses and drove to a pharmacy far out of town to purchase as many different brands of home pregnancy tests as I could find. Later that night, I sat on the bathroom floor shaking my head in disbelief as all six of them told me what I had known and ignored for weeks. 

Pregnant. And not quite sure whose it could be. 

It was a chance I could not take, not now that I had found The One. So, I did the only reasonable thing: I took an unplanned shopping trip alone, and I got rid of it. Quietly. I never told another soul. No one would ever know now...

The priest drones on. "Now, if anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace..."

I smile nervously at my husband-to be as I congratulate myself and my now-empty belly again on averting another disaster... 

Until someone breaks the silence... "I DO"

Coming up: Our Family Wedding II (Groom)