An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy) (33 page)

BOOK: An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy)

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He cheered up a bit and turned around to concentrate on further filling his face and dirtying his suit.

‘Just a thought,’ Elizabeth said calmly.

‘We have plenty of time to think of a name.’ I wrapped my arms around her, kissed her on the forehead, the cheek, the lips. Then I released, lowered and planted a kiss on her stomach. ‘No rush,’ I added softly.

Before I departed to the hotel I escorted everyone out of the building. I had already seen and heard from everyone, but now they were lubed up with alcohol, the day was almost over and everyone wanted to offer more congratulations. Elizabeth retired early, using her condition as an excuse, so I waited by the exit alone as streams of drunken revellers left via the door behind me.

After I thought everyone had departed, my dad came through from the main room. His eyes puffy, his tie pulled loose and shoved over his shoulder. I thought he might go for a hug to match the occasion, he didn’t. He shook my hand.

‘I’m still amazed you married her,’ he told me. I saw a glint of genuine pride and elation in his eyes, he tried to hide it but it was there.

‘I know,’ I huffed. ‘The first girl I ever fancied, my
first
girlfriend, then over a decade later: my
wife
.’

‘No, I mean I always thought you batted for the other side.’

I slumped my shoulders and glared at him disapprovingly.

He shrugged, as if to say that he couldn’t help it. He slapped a heavy hand on my shoulder, ‘You did well kiddo.’

‘Thanks Dad.’

He looked tearful, but he brushed passed me and left before those tears developed.

My mother came next. She didn’t restrain herself, she was already crying on her approach. The tears rolled down her face in streams, her whole face a picture of distress. She looked like she had been out in a storm.

She threw her arms around me, her tears soaking into my shirt and dampening my skin. She mumbled a heartfelt and extended conversation into my shoulder, I couldn’t understand a word. Then she pulled back, gargled something profound, fluttered her eyelids forlornly and then withdrew.

I trudged back into the main room to check there were no stragglers.

Throughout the night the room had been lit by small lights embedded in the walls and around the dance floor like a sparkling border. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling now bore down onto a floor littered with party streamers, scraps of food and carelessly dropped paper plates and plastic pint glasses.

Tables that had once been so neatly and immaculately arranged, were scattered and disjointed; perfectly pressed white tablecloths hung from their wooden tops like dusty, lopsided hats. Chairs that began the night under repressed backsides had lost their formality in a midst of alcohol and joviality and were now strewn around the room.

It was a war zone, but at least the war had been won.

I lifted my hand to the light, looking one last time at the large banner which ran a tacky line across the top wall, its colourful plastic coating slightly peeled in places and leaking lines down to the buffet table beneath. The adhesive in the top right had lost its hold and the corner flopped miserable. The entire banner sagged in the middle, a few hours and a few feet from drooping into the punch bowl.

It was still readable though, still prominent. I let the image burn into my head and snapped off the light. In the immediate darkness I could still see those bright red letters, my name, her name,
our
surname, and then:
Happily Married
. And we were, and I knew that it would last.