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Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank
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tried to talk Richard out of our wedding. I knew all about her campaign of phone calls and letters, but I also knew that Richard wasn’t interested in her. She drove him up the wall. On the other hand, Richard hadn’t been exactly forthcoming with Lois either. He’d P l a n t a t i o n
4 7
never told her about me or us. She had no idea we were getting married until the invitations arrived three weeks ago at our friends’
homes. Some bigmouth told her. Anyway, I doubted that she would try to break in here and stop the ceremony. Even Lois wasn’t that brave. She was just a yenta with acrylic nails.
“I think you just want to see me walk in on Trip’s arm, right?”
“Right!”
Millie’s eyes twinkled in the low light of my foyer. I could see they were misty and she wanted to tell me something she couldn’t find words to say.
“Out with it,” I said, “we don’t have all day.”
“Okay,” she said, “look in your bouquet. I put a little gris-gris bag in there. I dream about chickens all last night and that ain’t good. Keep that man faithful to you! Got everything in there you need, including a piece of Adam and Eve root.”
“What?” I dug into the flowers and pulled out a two-by-three-inch red bag with a drawstring. This was too much. “Now, Millie?
You think it’s right to try to manipulate the fidelity of my husband?”
Trip came to take my arm. “Come on, sister, we gotta go!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said to Trip and then turned back to Millie.
“Well?”
“Don’t you want him to behave?” She was dead serious.
I had no doubt of the potency of Millie’s magic. I had seen it work all my life. So I said, “Millie? I really appreciate this, but no.
If my marriage is going to work, I don’t want it to work this way.
It’s not honest.” I handed the small bag to her. “But you know I love you for thinking of me, right?”
“Lord, you got a hard head,” she said, then gave me a kiss on the cheek and sighed like only Millie could.
Suddenly, I was in a terrific free fall, hurling through the emotional tunnels of my heart. Walking through my foyer would never again be so life-changing. Doubt began to nag at me. Did we love each other enough to make a life together? Did we know each other well enough? Maybe it was arrogance or maybe it was nerves 4 8
D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k or maybe I didn’t want to appear the fool. I began to tremble from head to foot, thinking I was going to faint from this sudden terror that filled and racked me like a tropical fever.
I was a Wimbley and therefore I would muster the wherewithal to proceed as planned. No matter what. I accepted my bourbon-breathed brother’s arm, walked bravely into our living room, where our musicians played Vivaldi with great passion, and married Richard—married him over the gulping sobs of Frances Mae, despite the serious reservations of my mother, and without the magic of Millie.
M i s s L av i n i a ’s J o u r na l All right! Here I am in this infernal city, it’s one in the morning, and I can’t sleep. Nothing but horns! Don’t these people ever go home? It’s a good thing I brought my own bourbon—the mini bar’s empty! Can you imagine such a thing at the Pierre Hotel? At least they have goose-down pillows, which is more than I can say for Amtrak.That little sleeping car I had was no better than a jail cell! Moreover, now my only daughter is Mrs. Levine. I wonder if she’ll raise her children Jewish? He doesn’t seem to be religious. At least she’s got some spiritual side to her. Well, she’ll find her own way with this just like I did. She did look beautiful today.
Oh, Nevil! Do pray for her! Pardon me while I pour. . . .
Five
Skirmish in Paradise
}
1987
UR marriage was divine until our wedding night. I don’t remember how it came up or who started the O conversation, but it was well after our reception at Le Perigord Park. We walked home; after all, we lived next door at 565 Park
4 7
never told her about me or us. She had no idea we were getting married until the invitations arrived three weeks ago at our friends’
homes. Some bigmouth told her. Anyway, I doubted that she would try to break in here and stop the ceremony. Even Lois wasn’t that brave. She was just a yenta with acrylic nails.
“I think you just want to see me walk in on Trip’s arm, right?”
“Right!”
Millie’s eyes twinkled in the low light of my foyer. I could see they were misty and she wanted to tell me something she couldn’t find words to say.
“Out with it,” I said, “we don’t have all day.”
“Okay,” she said, “look in your bouquet. I put a little gris-gris bag in there. I dream about chickens all last night and that ain’t good. Keep that man faithful to you! Got everything in there you need, including a piece of Adam and Eve root.”
“What?” I dug into the flowers and pulled out a two-by-three-inch red bag with a drawstring. This was too much. “Now, Millie?
You think it’s right to try to manipulate the fidelity of my husband?”
Trip came to take my arm. “Come on, sister, we gotta go!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said to Trip and then turned back to Millie.
“Well?”
“Don’t you want him to behave?” She was dead serious.
I had no doubt of the potency of Millie’s magic. I had seen it work all my life. So I said, “Millie? I really appreciate this, but no.
If my marriage is going to work, I don’t want it to work this way.
It’s not honest.” I handed the small bag to her. “But you know I love you for thinking of me, right?”
“Lord, you got a hard head,” she said, then gave me a kiss on the cheek and sighed like only Millie could.
Suddenly, I was in a terrific free fall, hurling through the emotional tunnels of my heart. Walking through my foyer would never again be so life-changing. Doubt began to nag at me. Did we love each other enough to make a life together? Did we know each other well enough? Maybe it was arrogance or maybe it was nerves 4 8
D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k or maybe I didn’t want to appear the fool. I began to tremble from head to foot, thinking I was going to faint from this sudden terror that filled and racked me like a tropical fever.
I was a Wimbley and therefore I would muster the wherewithal to proceed as planned. No matter what. I accepted my bourbon-breathed brother’s arm, walked bravely into our living room, where our musicians played Vivaldi with great passion, and married Richard—married him over the gulping sobs of Frances Mae, despite the serious reservations of my mother, and without the magic of Millie.
M i s s L av i n i a ’s J o u r na l All right! Here I am in this infernal city, it’s one in the morning, and I can’t sleep. Nothing but horns! Don’t these people ever go home? It’s a good thing I brought my own bourbon—the mini bar’s empty! Can you imagine such a thing at the Pierre Hotel? At least they have goose-down pillows, which is more than I can say for Amtrak.That little sleeping car I had was no better than a jail cell! Moreover, now my only daughter is Mrs. Levine. I wonder if she’ll raise her children Jewish? He doesn’t seem to be religious. At least she’s got some spiritual side to her. Well, she’ll find her own way with this just like I did. She did look beautiful today.
Oh, Nevil! Do pray for her! Pardon me while I pour. . . .
Five
Skirmish in Paradise
}
1987
UR marriage was divine until our wedding night. I don’t remember how it came up or who started the O conversation, but it was well after our reception at Le Perigord Park. We walked home; after all, we lived next door at 565 Park
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