Read Online Revolting Youth: The Further Journals of Nick Twisp by C. D. Payne - Free Book Online
Authors: C. D. Payne
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was urgent because Grandma Preston back in Cleveland was hanging on by a thread in intensive care just waiting for news of her grandson’s wedding.
Carlotta found a deck of cards in a drawer next to the Gideon Bible. To kill time and keep Trent’s mind occupied while waiting for the clerk to phone back, we’ve been playing hearts. I love to slap the dreaded queen of spades on the bridegroom-to-be. The guy’s a terrible hearts player. It probably doesn’t help his concentration that Apurva is toying with a lock of his golden hair.
12:20 p.m. We have a two o’clock appointment in Judge Randolph Marulle’s chambers (if we can make it there—it’s started snowing again). To prepare for the crosstown hike, we slogged next door to a hardware store and bought their last three pairs of black rubber boots (size XXXL). The giant boots are big enough to shod a rhino, but we’ve lashed them to our calves with duct tape.
At least the weather has resolved the bridal raiments issue. As Apurva owns no wool saris, she has bundled up in all her warmest dresses and sweaters, attractively accessorized with two pairs of jeans and the rhino boots. Examining herself despairingly in the motel-room mirror, she declared she was “the ugliest bride in history.” Trent kissed her, told her she was beautiful, and said he did not intend to spend his honeymoon nursing a wife with pneumonia. The guy sure can be charming when he wants to be.
7:10 p.m. The deed is done. Sheeni Saunder’s childhood sweetheart is officially scratched from the dating market. I did have a bit of a scare at the beginning. Judge Randolph J. Marulle turned out to be one of those loquacious, serious-minded jurists who like to pry. The first thing he did was remark on the youthfulness of the bride and groom. Where were their parents, he wanted to know, and did “you kids” realize the seriousness of such a “momentous step” as marriage? So Carlotta took him aside, explained that the parents were at the bedside of a terminally ill grandmother, and stressed that both families wanted the baby to be born legitimate. The judge glanced at Apurva, shivering in 14 layers of clothing, and decided to get on with it.
Carlotta gave the bride away; the beaming court clerk served as the other witness. It was all over in less than five minutes. The bride and groom whispered “I do,” 14-karat gold rings were slipped successfully on nervous fingers, the judge declared them husband and wife, lips met in a binding kiss, the clerk flashed herPolaroid camera, and Carlotta breathed an immense sigh of relief. I only hope my own wedding to Sheeni goes as smoothly.
After the ceremony Carlotta treated the newlyweds to a festive wedding supper at Shanghai Dixie Palace, the only restaurant we could find that wasn’t shuttered in the reborn blizzard. Oh well, I like Chinese food and you can’t beat the prices. Our convivial waiter even served us a bottle of Mississippi sparkling chablis without checking our IDs. A feast to remember even if it was vegetarian, and the bill (including tip) came to less than $40.
9:50 p.m. As our motel is now even more clogged with stranded travelers and partying Ole Miss students, no amount of pleading was able to free up another room. Yes, diary, it appears that we are about to experience a Wedding Night for Three.
SATURDAY, March 6 — Carlotta’s friends refused even to consider her offer to sleep in the bathroom or out in the hallway. Reflecting the altered circumstances, we negotiated a slight shuffling in the bed order. Carlotta was moved to an outside position, and Apurva slept in the middle next to her husband. Lots of breezy banter as we settled in, but one could sense their lack of privacy chafed on the newlyweds. Carlotta thoughtfully pretended to fall immediately to sleep, but I don’t think things progressed very far on the other side of the mattress beyond a mild snuggle and possible furtive grope. Oh well, it’s not like anyone had
Carlotta found a deck of cards in a drawer next to the Gideon Bible. To kill time and keep Trent’s mind occupied while waiting for the clerk to phone back, we’ve been playing hearts. I love to slap the dreaded queen of spades on the bridegroom-to-be. The guy’s a terrible hearts player. It probably doesn’t help his concentration that Apurva is toying with a lock of his golden hair.
12:20 p.m. We have a two o’clock appointment in Judge Randolph Marulle’s chambers (if we can make it there—it’s started snowing again). To prepare for the crosstown hike, we slogged next door to a hardware store and bought their last three pairs of black rubber boots (size XXXL). The giant boots are big enough to shod a rhino, but we’ve lashed them to our calves with duct tape.
At least the weather has resolved the bridal raiments issue. As Apurva owns no wool saris, she has bundled up in all her warmest dresses and sweaters, attractively accessorized with two pairs of jeans and the rhino boots. Examining herself despairingly in the motel-room mirror, she declared she was “the ugliest bride in history.” Trent kissed her, told her she was beautiful, and said he did not intend to spend his honeymoon nursing a wife with pneumonia. The guy sure can be charming when he wants to be.
7:10 p.m. The deed is done. Sheeni Saunder’s childhood sweetheart is officially scratched from the dating market. I did have a bit of a scare at the beginning. Judge Randolph J. Marulle turned out to be one of those loquacious, serious-minded jurists who like to pry. The first thing he did was remark on the youthfulness of the bride and groom. Where were their parents, he wanted to know, and did “you kids” realize the seriousness of such a “momentous step” as marriage? So Carlotta took him aside, explained that the parents were at the bedside of a terminally ill grandmother, and stressed that both families wanted the baby to be born legitimate. The judge glanced at Apurva, shivering in 14 layers of clothing, and decided to get on with it.
Carlotta gave the bride away; the beaming court clerk served as the other witness. It was all over in less than five minutes. The bride and groom whispered “I do,” 14-karat gold rings were slipped successfully on nervous fingers, the judge declared them husband and wife, lips met in a binding kiss, the clerk flashed herPolaroid camera, and Carlotta breathed an immense sigh of relief. I only hope my own wedding to Sheeni goes as smoothly.
After the ceremony Carlotta treated the newlyweds to a festive wedding supper at Shanghai Dixie Palace, the only restaurant we could find that wasn’t shuttered in the reborn blizzard. Oh well, I like Chinese food and you can’t beat the prices. Our convivial waiter even served us a bottle of Mississippi sparkling chablis without checking our IDs. A feast to remember even if it was vegetarian, and the bill (including tip) came to less than $40.
9:50 p.m. As our motel is now even more clogged with stranded travelers and partying Ole Miss students, no amount of pleading was able to free up another room. Yes, diary, it appears that we are about to experience a Wedding Night for Three.
SATURDAY, March 6 — Carlotta’s friends refused even to consider her offer to sleep in the bathroom or out in the hallway. Reflecting the altered circumstances, we negotiated a slight shuffling in the bed order. Carlotta was moved to an outside position, and Apurva slept in the middle next to her husband. Lots of breezy banter as we settled in, but one could sense their lack of privacy chafed on the newlyweds. Carlotta thoughtfully pretended to fall immediately to sleep, but I don’t think things progressed very far on the other side of the mattress beyond a mild snuggle and possible furtive grope. Oh well, it’s not like anyone had
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