“Here, you just need to fill out this paperwork here, and do you have a witness?” The secretary sitting behind the desk asks us as if she already knows the answer to her own question. I look over at Steven who looks more surprised then I am. I had an inkling that we would run into this problem.
“Could you possibly step in? We really don’t have time to go find someone.” I ask eagerly. The secretary sighs and nods, filling out the witness line on the clipboard. A stab of guilt pierces my stomach, but hey, maybe the curse didn’t work on strangers. Hopefully.
City hall had never exactly been my dream wedding. Far from it, in fact. But Steven was my dream husband, and I wanted out marriage to be perfect…so I knew he’d understand. His family, on the other hand…
It’s just this…curse. Well, that’s what we call it—the Howard family wedding curse. It all started with my great, great, great grandfather Howard. The story goes that he was engaged to marry this girl when, ten minutes before the ceremony, his best friend informed him that he had, ahem, already deflowered his beloved bride. Many a time. This was back in the day before that kind of thing was less unheard of. Well, my great, great, great grandfather (who always had quite the temper apparently) waited until right before he was supposed to say “I do” and instead of vowing to bind himself to her forever, he pulled out a knife and stabbed her in the heart multiple times. It was really quite the scandal.
What does this have to do with me you may ask? Well, ever since this horrible tragedy happened at almost every single wedding the Howard family hosts a family member dies. I’m not kidding, my great grandfather’s unfaithful fiancée must have risen from the dead to curse the weddings of the Howard’s forever. Last year, my brother disregarded the curse as a bunch of bologna and just as he’s saying his vows a bee stung my Uncle Ernie and, it turning out that he’s deathly allergic of bees, he died on the spot.
So I’m not willing to take any risks, and Steven, being the saint that he is, agrees to go along with it. And of course my family isn’t complaining since no one wants to be next.
So city hall works for me. Sure, the ceremony is charmless, but at least there are no tragic deaths. As we are leaving the room as man and wife I notice for the first time that the secretary is looking at us rather awkwardly. I raise my eyebrows questioningly.
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” She blurts out. An odd question, I thought. I find myself not knowing what to say, not wanting to get into the Howard family history. As usual, Steven sweeps in and saves the day.
“Stage fright.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. He really is the perfect man.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Writing Assignment 5 Draft 1
It’s gotten really stuffy in the room. I pull at my starched collar a bit, glancing towards to the window air conditioning unit to see if it’s on. Despite the rattling coming from the west window, there doesn’t seem to be any proof that the decrepit thing is actually cooling the ancient room. I glance at my watch quickly. 12:04. Technically, I was supposed to be on my lunch break four minutes ago.
“…Speak now or forever hold your peace.” A pen taps hard against the podium and I snap my head up. Judge Mills is looking at me, eyebrows raised expectedly. I feel myself furrow my brow as if to say “How would I know?” But then shake my head. Honestly, this is the worst part of my job. It’s not even supposed to be my job, but I’ve always been a pushover. So when young naïve couples show up to city hall to get married, not knowing they needed to bring a witness, I always get asked as they fill out the paperwork I hand them. And I, of course, say yes. I mean, who am I to stand in the way of young love, even for the hour it would take to run outside and find another witness?
I’ve been a last minute witness for 77 weddings in my three years of working as a secretary here, and I always feel a little grimy afterwards. I can’t exactly place my finger on it, but whenever I sign my name on the witness line I feel like I lying. How do I know that it’s ethically okay I’m supporting these marriages? I never know if the couple is right for each other, in general I know them for approximately ten minutes prior to the ceremony.
I consider the couple in front of me. Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson. Nice, generic names. Steven Johnson is plain look enough, nondescript sandy brown hair, and similar eyes, medium height…I would guess around 5’ 9”. His bride is pretty much the same, a little shorter, slightly mousy brown hair, pale skin. I’m focusing on the plainness of this couple when I suddenly realize that there’s something very different about them…they’re so…normal.
I generally see two kinds of weddings here at city hall. There’s the shotgun, someone’s a little-too-pregnant for the big white dress church ceremony wedding, and then there’s the couple with a head over heels (normally trying too hard) bride and a groom who is obviously gritting his teeth at the very idea of marriage…but doesn’t want to lose her or whatever his reason may be.
This couple doesn’t seem to fit into either of these stereotypes. I watch them look at each other excitedly, speaking the vows that have echoed in this room thousands of times before, and they actually look happy. Suddenly I am reeling with curiosity. Why would this normal, relatively happy couple opt for this ceremony that has as much charm as a visit to the DMV? I know it’s probably rude, but after the vows and they are walking out the door, I blurt it out.
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” The couple stops and looks at me, calculatingly. The guy shrugs his shoulders.
“Stage fright.” I nod and let them leave the room. I think it really is time to get a new job. All this speculating is exhausting me.
“…Speak now or forever hold your peace.” A pen taps hard against the podium and I snap my head up. Judge Mills is looking at me, eyebrows raised expectedly. I feel myself furrow my brow as if to say “How would I know?” But then shake my head. Honestly, this is the worst part of my job. It’s not even supposed to be my job, but I’ve always been a pushover. So when young naïve couples show up to city hall to get married, not knowing they needed to bring a witness, I always get asked as they fill out the paperwork I hand them. And I, of course, say yes. I mean, who am I to stand in the way of young love, even for the hour it would take to run outside and find another witness?
I’ve been a last minute witness for 77 weddings in my three years of working as a secretary here, and I always feel a little grimy afterwards. I can’t exactly place my finger on it, but whenever I sign my name on the witness line I feel like I lying. How do I know that it’s ethically okay I’m supporting these marriages? I never know if the couple is right for each other, in general I know them for approximately ten minutes prior to the ceremony.
I consider the couple in front of me. Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson. Nice, generic names. Steven Johnson is plain look enough, nondescript sandy brown hair, and similar eyes, medium height…I would guess around 5’ 9”. His bride is pretty much the same, a little shorter, slightly mousy brown hair, pale skin. I’m focusing on the plainness of this couple when I suddenly realize that there’s something very different about them…they’re so…normal.
I generally see two kinds of weddings here at city hall. There’s the shotgun, someone’s a little-too-pregnant for the big white dress church ceremony wedding, and then there’s the couple with a head over heels (normally trying too hard) bride and a groom who is obviously gritting his teeth at the very idea of marriage…but doesn’t want to lose her or whatever his reason may be.
This couple doesn’t seem to fit into either of these stereotypes. I watch them look at each other excitedly, speaking the vows that have echoed in this room thousands of times before, and they actually look happy. Suddenly I am reeling with curiosity. Why would this normal, relatively happy couple opt for this ceremony that has as much charm as a visit to the DMV? I know it’s probably rude, but after the vows and they are walking out the door, I blurt it out.
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” The couple stops and looks at me, calculatingly. The guy shrugs his shoulders.
“Stage fright.” I nod and let them leave the room. I think it really is time to get a new job. All this speculating is exhausting me.
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