After Forever Ends - Ramone Melodie - Страница 37
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“Not until the car does stop and then you’ll be lucky if it’s not at a bloody red light!” Alex threatened.
“You wouldn’t!” Meredith screamed, huge tears pouring out of her pretty blue eyes.
Alexander gave her a blank stare and turned away.
She wailed again. Oliver shuddered, looking in the mirror to get his brother’s attention. When he caught Alex’s eye, he mouthed, “Stop!” and Alexander made the motion of grabbing someone by the collar, choking them, and tossing them out the window. Oliver shook his head. Alexander nodded with enthusiasm.
Meredith continued to cry, sniffing loudly.
“Aw, Mere,” I said gently, passing her a tissue from my purse, “Please don’t cry. It’s OK if you don’t like my dress or my shoes. I’m sure you’ve dreamed of your perfect wedding all your life, while I’ve never even given it a thought. I’ve only dreamed of Oliver. The clothes I’m wearing mean nothing to me.”
She wiped her eyes, “I’m sorry, Silvia. You look positively adorable, really. Not many people can wear yellow, but you look like Cinderella in it. It’s really beautiful with your hair.”
“Oh, my goodness! Thank you!”
“I’m sorry to you, too, O. You look quite handsome in your...” She leaned forward and peered over the seat, “Shirt and tie.”
“I look like I’m heading for class, really.”
“No, because your buttons are done and the shirt’s tucked in and your tie’s on right,” She said seriously, “And you combed your hair. You don’t do that at school. At school you look like you just rolled out of bed. I think you look very put together. I am sorry if I sounded like I didn’t want to be here. It’s just this is very fast and you’re still in school. I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“It’s all right,” Oliver told her as we entered town once again. “It’s forgotten. We’re glad you’re here.” I saw him eyeing his brother in the rear view mirror again, making sure he was behaving. Alexander was staring out the window.
After a bit more driving, we located the local magistrate and Oliver banged on the door. “We’d like to get married, Sir,” He said with his usual grin when the old man answered, “Today, right now if it’s possible.”
“How old are you?” The magistrate peered at us over his spectacles.
“Both seventeen, Sir,” Oliver told him.
“Legal then, I suppose. You look young, though. I’d have said sixteen at most.” He looked at me up and down like he was still trying to guess my age, “Baby faces. Humph. Do you have written permission from both of your parents?”
I froze. Written permission from my parents? I had had no idea that we needed that. I looked at Oliver in horror, but he didn’t seem fazed.
“Yes, Sir,” Alexander answered smoothly, “They do. I have the letters with me.”
He produced two documents he’d been holding in his jacket pocket since we got to the door. I had been too excited and distracted to ask what they were. The constable took them and looked them over carefully. He eyed Alexander with a look of deep mistrust and then turned his attention back to Oliver. “Is there a reason why your parents are not present?”
“Silvia’s mother’s passed,” Oliver answered without hesitation, “And her father takes very little interest in her life. He lives in Denbighshire and saw no importance in making the trip. My parents are not all pleased about us being married, but they consented because they know they can’t stop us, Sir. It’s either this or we continue to commit carnal sins for nineteen days until Sil’s birthday and we’re both eighteen and get married anyway. Sil will be showing by then. My parents signed the documents and opted to pray for us instead of attending.”
I almost laughed out loud.
The magistrate blinked. “And do you have proper identification?”
“We do.”
“Let’s see it.”
Oliver reached into his pocket and produced a driver’s license. I stood there like an idiot. “Sil,” He told me quietly, “Give him your ID.”
“Oh!” I snapped open my purse and produced it.
The magistrate looked it over carefully. “Well, you’ll have to have to be registered to be married.”
“Where do we do that?” I asked, bouncing on my toes.
The magistrate gave me an odd look. “Well, right here.” He pushed to door open, but made no move to let us in. “You aren’t Welsh, are you?”
“No, Sir, I’m Scottish,” I did not try to hide the pride in my voice.
“Hmpfh. No wonder I can’t understand a thing you say,” He muttered and Alexander laughed out loud. I poked him in the shoulder and shot Oliver a look that stopped him before he started. The constable gave me a long stare, “Have you lived in Wales more than seven days?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, come in then. Right this way and I’ll get you your license. You have to fill it out and sign it and then I have to file it…”
“How long will that take?” Alexander asked suddenly as we entered a cluttered office. He glanced sideways at Meredith. She turned her head.
The magistrate looked up to answer, but paused, his eyes moving between Alexander and Oliver as if he saw double. He wiped his eye behind his glasses, blinked, and slowly answered, “As soon as whoever’s getting married signs it, I stamp it with this,” He lifted a heavy wooden stamp, “And put it in this drawer,” He motioned to a filing cabinet, “And then it’s filed.”
“And we can we get married then, yeah?” Oliver asked eagerly, his grin spread from ear to ear.
The magistrate sighed, clearly annoyed, but then he looked into Oliver’s face and softened. “It’s supposed to be a wait of fourteen days.”
“Fourteen days!” Oliver exclaimed. “We’ll be damned to hell in fourteen days! Or so say my parents! It’ll be purgatory at best and only if they pray hard enough! Sil will be wearing those jeans with the elastic band in the front!”
“There are not enough Fatima Prayers!” Alexander interjected, “Mother’s knees will need replaced! Great Merciful God, I’d hate to see Silvia married in a frumpy maternity gown!”
“It’s supposed to be,” The magistrate repeated, “But this is a small municipality and I am registrar. So my answer to you is as soon as you wish, since you’re in such a hurry. We wouldn’t want either of you burning in hell or your mother to have to have her knees replaced or anyone being married in an unflattering gown,” He moved around his desk and opened a drawer, fingering through files, “Now is it just two of you?”
“Just us,” Oliver and I said together. He squeezed my hand.
“I presumed that since the two of you have bees in your bonnets and the other two look as though they may duel at sundown,” He did not look up as he spoke. Oliver and I glanced at each other and stifled a laugh, “OK, then, fill this out,” He shoved a document across the desk, “And both of you sign it here,” He pointed with his pen, “And here.”
Oliver and I filled out the paper while the old man looked us over carefully. When we were through, he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and read, mumbling to himself, “Bride…Silvia Sophia Cotton, born in Edinburgh. Mother named Sharon Mariana Nettles, father named Philip Joseph Cotton…” He paused, “Groom…Oliver Eric Dickinson, born right here…” He looked up, “You’re not one of W.D. Dickinson’s clan, are you?”
“He was my grandfather,” Oliver answered, “Did you know him?”
“Yes, yes, I knew him,” He didn’t smile, but his face went soft again, “He never won at cards, but he never paid up, either. He married my cousin, Catherine. She was from Welshpool.”
“That was Nana,” Alexander said fondly, “The world was a better place with her in it.”
“I miss her,” Oliver chimed.
“The world was a better place with both of them in it. Terrible what happened,” He signed the document quickly and stamped it, looking carefully at the boys, “The whole road to their home was washed away. Well, you were probably old enough to remember, yeah?”
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