Curiously, there usually isn’t much of interest happening at my house on any specific Tuesday (sorry, Charlie). Wednesdays is my writer’s group, but on a particular Tuesday in mid March, I was working without that group when I got a call from my friend Derek. If you’ve read my blog from June of 2023: “13th Floor Field Trip,” you know Derek as the brassy fellow with a flashy car, and a secret penchant for applying scary makeup to his friends. (Sounds like Thursday at my house.)
When he asked me what I was doing tomorrow morning, he did so as if he knew of some merriment taking place. I wasn’t as sure that he was inviting me somewhere as he was going to ask for a ride to the airport, or worse, that he needed help moving. Only good friends are worthy of asking for rides to the airport, but only the best of friends dare ask for help moving. I was weary as I waited to hear why he called, when he normally just texts. It must be important.
It was not only
important, it was something fun. He asked if I would stand beside him
to witness his marriage to his girlfriend, Jane. You could have
knocked me over with a feather. I thought he was joking. It was
apparent during the last haunt season that they were dating. He was
still chasing people through the haunted house with a chain saw, and
she was in charge of security out front.
Jane is a wonderful woman- attractive, smart, and fun to be around. When I heard they were dating, I told him that she was dating down. I’m not sure if he fully understood that I was putting him down, and if I’m wrong, he knows it was in good jest. But he WAS dating up.
He came to me last year with a poem he wrote her and asked for my opinion. I was quite impressed and saw aspects that could be improved upon, but I wanted her to get a poem 100% from him. Instead of making changes, I suggested things such as, “could you maybe rephrase that in another fashion, or instead of using that word, could you find another rhyme that works better?”
He came back with a whole, new poem. I liked the first one well enough, and now he had two. To save time, I decided to combine both of his poems, and felt comfortable making some of my suggested changes from before. After all, the sentiment was his, I just had a better thesaurus and more experience writing poetry.
Derek told me that Jane was more than impressed with his poem. I asked if he mentioned that I assisted, and he said that he mentioned to her that he had received some help from me. It’s no secret that I have three books of poetry published, so it’s almost a given that someone wishing to impress with their own might come to me for my opinion.
Our friend Mark had a party earlier this year. He lives fifteen hours away in Fulshear, Texas. It’s not really fifteen hours, but it might as well be. He drives to our part of town as if he only lived half an hour away. For as often as we go to his place, it might as well be a fifteen hour drive.
At his party, I was talking with Jane and Derek. Thinking that she knew I had lent a hand with his poem, I mentioned it. Derek’s eyes grew as large as armadillos, and I knew I had gotten him in hot water because he lied like a dog. She didn’t know about my input. I felt as tall as a horny toad as I explained that he had done the work, I merely caressed a few extra flowers from his mind to add to his poetry. One thing I can say, he has since then written more poems to her, to which I had absolutely no input, and she loved them.
Here he was, on the phone to ask that I stand beside him as he takes her hand in marriage. I guess I would now be obliged to help him move, with such an honor being bestowed upon me. At the end of the call, he stated he was only inviting a select few, and was not going public with it until after the fact.
Shortly thereafter, I got a call from Mark. He was on the short list and asked when I planned on being at the court house, nearly in Katy, Texas, about ten hours away. Not really, but when told I need to go to Katy, you might as well be asking me to drive for ten hours.
For quite some
time, Mark has been laying bets about another couple we know. Our
friend Christopher started dating a woman last year, and his
relationship posts on line are hot and heavy. Mark is always making
comments about their posts decrying their love for one another. Mark
asks often, “When do you think they’re going to get married?... I
bet they get married real soon…. Did you see what he posted?
They’re so in love…. They’re going to get married, I just know
it.... When do you think it’ll happen?” He’s like a child at
Christmas with his matrimonial enthusiasm.
“I never thought Derek would get married before Christopher,” he said on the phone. “Did you?” he added. I had to admit that I was as surprised at Derek’s call as a forecast high of sixty degrees on a July afternoon in Houston.
The next morning, after my ten-hour drive to the courthouse, I met Mark in the parking lot. Ricky was with me, but neither Derek nor Jane had arrived. Derek arrived soon after, then Jane’s friend Lexi, and finally the bride, herself.
After a tailgate party without the tail or the gate (we just stood in the parking lot chatting for an hour) we followed them inside and down the hall so they could get in line for a license. The four of us there as witness stood to the side as Jane and Derek held hands chatting until called by the clerk. We next waited outside the courtroom in the chairs encircling the lobby. This is when Derek found out that they only accepted cash, meaning he had to go ATM hunting. Mark and I thought it was suspicious that they only accepted cash at a courthouse. “I wonder how much of that actually goes to the county,” Mark said. “I bet the judge gets it all.”
Derek returned with the cash and gave it to the assistant, and she disappeared into the court offices, “And she was never seen nor heard from again…” I joked. And then we waited.
People came and went. We created interesting stories as to why they were at the courthouse that day to keep ourselves entertained. Outside were tables, one protesting something I didn’t care about, the other to sign people up to vote. Having heard Ricky mention he wasn’t registered, I suggested he do so. “Maybe later,” he said. So I went out, got a registration form, and he filled it out. Little is as important as our civic duty to elect the idiots that represent us.
There was another
couple waiting to get married, as well. They had no witnesses, but
they did have a baby. Mark kept tabs on things, stating, “They came
in after us, so they should call Jane and Derek first.” Made
perfect sense to me. But that’s exactly why things don’t
typically go as I think they should. Things rarely go the way of
common sense.
The law clerk emerged from the courtroom. She asked if we were waiting to see the judge. “Yes, ma’am,” we answered, Mark adding, “We’re here for a wedding. The woman was nice, explaining that things didn’t normally take this long, but there were quite a few cases before the judge that day, and the marriages always came after the cases. She apologized for the delay and then disappeared back into the courtroom.
She emerged a few moments later. She looked at Mark, sitting next to me, and asked if we had witnesses. In unison, Mark and I told her that we WERE the witnesses. Laughter ensued when she admitted that she thought he and I were getting married. “Sorry. He’s just not my type,” I quipped.
The other bride and groom were holding their baby and were queried if they had witnesses. Since we did and they did not, she called them in first. We were fine with this, since we were a party of six. Knowing that we were about to enter got us excited.
When it was our turn, they ushered the four of us witnesses into the courtroom. I was impressed at how nice the room was, considering it was a small regional county building. As in most courtrooms, there was a large, wooden desk for the judge. Behind him was a wall of Texas stone framed in the same wood to match the desk. Centered above the judge’s head was the great seal of the State of Texas.
Below the desk with
Judge Wolfe’s name plate was a ledge, and on this was a small,
white three-tiered wedding cake. Not a real, edible one, mind you.
This was only for show. There were two towering sprays of white
flowers set up on either side of where the bride and groom would
stand. It was much nicer than the civil ceremony of my mother to her
second husband that I recall from when I was eight.
The judge welcomed us in and the law clerk remained at the door. She was every bit excited as we were. I could tell that her favorite part of her day at work was bringing in couples to be wed. The judge was kind and we exchanged pleasantries as the final elements were put in place. He explained again the delay, and we responded with our understanding.
We were seated. He was ready. The law clerk indicated that the bride and groom were ready. On the wall to the judge’s left was a flat-screen showing an orchestra. The band began playing the wedding song, also known as the Bridal March. The doors opened and there was the bride and groom.
Queen Victoria started the trend of brides wearing white, but Jane was glowing in a turquoise dress. I nearly cried. She had been given white flowers to hold. Her groom, in his standard black cowboy hat, wore a blue paisley button-down shirt with jeans. We rose and took photos of the loving couple, all smiles and jitters as they progressed towards the judge in his over sized black robes.
It was a fast service- basically, do you? Do you? You’re married. Now kiss. Maybe not quite that quick, but it was a short and lovely wedding. Possibly as long as the engagement.
After the ceremony, the judge came around front to pose for photos. The couple signed their fancy, official-looking certificate, and were instructed to next return to wait once more in the first line, so they could have it formalized by the state of Texas.
It was 3PM. We hadn’t planned on lunch, but I was hoping we could do something fun to celebrate. Instead, Derek set us free, rather than having us wait for them any longer. The engagement was short and the civil ceremony was planned for Jane to access the benefits of a military wife, since Derek was about to enter the Navy. We were promised a celebration at a later time. As we left the courthouse, I laughed with Mark that we had spent six hours waiting for a five-minute ceremony.
On the way home, I needed to stop at the grocery store with Ricky. Walking in, we passed Louann from the haunted house, and her husband. In explaining why we were in her part of town, I almost blurted out that we had been to Derek’s wedding, but since Derek hadn’t announced it, I didn’t feel like I should say anything. Now they probably think I was in trouble for having gone to the courthouse down the road. That’s alright. They know what goes down at my house on a Tuesday.
There were quite a
few wonderful photos of the day, and I was so eager to share them.
Derek said he was going to make an announcement to the group at
Hayden’s upcoming birthday party, so I only shared them with those
of us who attended the ceremony. It wasn’t an easy thing to keep
secret.
It felt like Jane and Derek were the last to arrive at the party a week later. Mark and I were so eager to share the good news with everyone; we sat on a couch next to one another practically sitting on our hands not to say anything. There were a few times we almost gave up the secret and were so happy when the newlyweds finally arrived. Mark and I wanted to be behind him so we could see everyone’s reaction to the news.
Derek began by telling everyone that he and Jane had been dating and seeing more of each other recently. Before he got any further, someone blurted out, “When are you getting engaged?” “That’s what I wanted to tell everyone,” he said. “We got engaged last week.”
I looked at Mark who met my gaze of confusion with his own. Derek turned to us with a big smile. “Is that it?” I asked. “Yep,” replied Derek, still smiling. Still unsure that he was keeping it a secret from everyone, I leaned in to ask quietly, “Aren’t you going to tell them the big news?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I told them.”
“You told them?” I asked again, needing confirmation, and again, looking to Mark for support.
Loudly, he answered, “I told them. Just now.”
“You DO know what engaged means, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said with a goofy laugh. “We’re married.” As the words still lingered in the air, I think it hit him. “Oh, well. Yeah…” He turned back to the group, barely paying attention to him at this point, “Sorry. We got MARRIED.” Then he spun around with that smile again, “See. I told them.”
All I could do was
shake my head and look at Mark. “At least we don’t have to keep
it a secret,” Mark said, looking deflated like a balloon, the
excess air finally let out.
Back in the day, a small piece of toast was placed in wine glasses to absorb any unpleasant flavors, and to soak up sediment, which is why we “toast” when we drink. There was an elaborate spread of food for the birthday boy, Hayden. I didn’t see any toast, but everyone was happy, and there were glasses raised to the bride and groom.
It was a wonderful party and everyone was having a blast. If not that it was a birthday party, it could very well have been a great reception. He could have asked family to stand beside him. But if you ask me, there’s nothing like chosen family. Jane and Derek are a wonderful couple and I’m happy to have been asked to witness his special day. Wednesday at my house. 
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| Lexi, Jane, Derek, Penguin, Mark, Ricky |
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