Authors: Dorina Stanciu
“I have something for Mr. Logan,” Igor announced, full of importance.
He turned his back on Timothy and walked toward the piano. His voice transformed. He adopted a very polite tone.
“A little while
ago, Mademoiselle Lili gave me this envelope for you, sir. She instructed me not to give it to you until this very moment.”
Mr. Logan received the envelope with shaking hands. He opened it slowly, sending Timothy worried coups d’oeil, as if he already knew that what was concealed inside that envelope concerned them both.
Indeed, a couple of seconds later he extracted a smaller, pink envelope. He kept it a while between his left palm and his big, round belly that generously overflowed his belt. When he finished reading those few red lines scratched hideously on white paper, he handed the pink envelope to Timothy.
“This is for you, Tim,” he announced with unsure voice, continuously wiping the sweat off his forehead. His face seemed purple. “I’m sorry, boy. I’m really sorry… But I must leave now, I must,” he mumbled and hurried toward the parking place.
Timothy tore the envelope
apart. A pink letter with yellow roses printed on the right upper corner slipped through his fingers. The young man caught it under the sole of his white leather shoe before the capricious breeze could snatch it and take it into the ocean. He read it, and his beautiful masculine features clouded over with deep emotion and sheer surprise. He turned toward the guests and family and spoke like from another world.
“She’s not coming. She doesn’t want to marry me anymore.”
The crowd gasped. Some women began to weep.
His long, powerful fingers
crumpled the envelope and letter into a tight ball that he examined for a while with hatred, disbelieve and despair. Then he stuffed it nervously into the right pocket of his perfectly fit white pants. As the crude reality sank in, the groom’s fury gained an exponential crescendo. Unexpectedly, he unleashed all his anger upon Igor. With both hands, he grabbed the boy by the collar of his coat, lifted him a foot above the ground, and shook him vigorously with hurricane force.
“Where is she? Speak to me, you walking carcass! Where did she go? And why? Why now? Why right now?” he yelled out of control.
The teenager turned livid, shaking his legs and arms like a marionette.
“I swear I know nothing!” he screamed defensively. “I was joking earlier…Tim, leave me alone, man…please! You’re choking me, man…”
Driven instantly by peaceful thoughts, Clark and some of the groom’s closest friends jumped up from their chairs and rushed to help Igor.
“Let him go, Tim!” Clark commanded. “It doesn’t solve your problem, brother!”
“Take it easy, man!” another one pleaded.
Among the strong and young bodies of the men who had gathered shortly to take Igor out of Timothy’s crazy grip, a cute little girl was jostling and screaming her lungs out, struggling helplessly to reach the center of the commotion.
“Tee, don’t despair,” the little girl called out. “I will marry you! I’m all dressed up already. Teeee, listen to me! Teeee! I love you, Tee, I truly love you!”
A young man caught her by the arm and tried to push her out of the way, fearing that she could have gotten badly hurt by mistake. The child pounced upon him wildly.
“Take your hands of me, you beast!” she snapped, throwing rose petals from her basket right in his face. “I want to talk to Tee. He needs me. Teeeee!”
“Someone, take this spoiled brat away from here!” the young man yelled, at a loss. He took her by her shoulders and lifted her in the air, immobilizing her arms. Her fancy basket fell to the ground, covering his shoes in pink and red rose petals. He was beginning to regret his earlier act of kindness.
“I should’ve let you get into that foolish huddle and end up squashed like an obnoxious bug that you are,” he growled in her ear. The child writhed and shook her legs in the air. Red with fury, she continued to call out her “boyfriend’s” name.
“Put her down!” The groom’s voice reverberated like a thunder. He freed Igor instantly. The boy hit the sand almost inert, like a bag of potatoes.
Timothy Leigh rushed to Vivien’s side. She had started to cry silently. He lifted her in his arms and withdrew from the crowd. He sat on the piano bench and put her up on the piano. For a while, they just looked into each other’s eyes.
“I will marry you, Tee,” the
eight-year-old girl uttered timidly, now acting like a scared little mouse.
“Vee, don’t you think that one painfully crushed soul is enough for today? Really! Do you want to humiliate yourself too?”
“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Tee! I thought about them all,” Vivien went on to plead her case. “I know how to make peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches and soft-boiled eggs. You can drive me to school every day and then go do your things. I won’t bother you.”
Exhibiting a sad smile, Timothy interrupted her.
“Vee, I understand that you want to help me get over this failure, deadlock, unfortunate situation – you name it! – but the sacrifice is way too big. And it’s impossible. I cannot marry you even if – against all reason! – I would want to. It is illegal. You probably know that too. In less than five minutes, the sheriff would be here to handcuff me and throw me in jail. Now, tell me! Would you want that to happen to me?”
“Who would denounce you, Tee? Not me, you can imagine,” Vivien rushed to exculpate herself, wearing an innocent look over her tear-wet face. “It’s true, you’re a bit older, but thirteen years difference between us is not
une catastrophe
,” she pointed out.
Her exercised French accent brought a faint smile on Timothy’s purple lips.
“You’ll grow up to be a beautiful woman, Vee. And you’re going to make a man very happy one day,” he said convincingly.
“But I want to make
you
happy, Tee! And I don’t want to wait to grow up! I’m old enough to make a decision. And I made up my mind: I want to marry you. Every girl has to find herself a boy and marry one day. What difference does it make if it’s now or ten years later? The sooner the better. And we have everything ready: guests, music, preacher, food and stuff…”
He wasn’t getting anywhere. Timothy Leigh rolled his eyes at her, exasperated, exhausted. He didn’t need this peculiar conversation, not now when he was going through the most difficult time in his adult life so far.
Not ever,
he decided, on second thought.
“Vee, I’m a man, and you’re a child. Men don’t marry children. Bottom line, I will not marry you. Period,” he said clearly.
However, his broken heart sent him an instant lived premonition that he could not completely ignore.
“Look,” he added quickly, reaching into the hidden pocket of his coat. “This gift was something special for the woman of my dreams.”
He placed in her lap a small pastel-blue box tied elegantly with a delicate yellow ribbon. “Nadine doesn’t deserve it anymore, but you can wear it when you grow up. If you want to.”
Huge, transparent tears sprang one after the other from her big blue eyes. Heavy and fluid, they rolled down her beautiful rosy cheeks.
“I don’t want gifts from you. I want
you
. I love you, Tee,” she whispered confused. “Is it so hard to understand? I could make you love me too, you just have to be patient,” she insisted sobbing. “I love you so much! Please don’t leave me!”
The young man looked at her wonder-struck. This child was telling him exactly what he wanted to hear, as if she were reading right into his soul. She knew exactly what he needed – love. He needed love so badly!
What an irony!
Timothy reflected sadly.
The only girl who truly loves me is actually an eight-year-old child, and I’m going to break her little heart now the way Nadine did with me. Life is cruel. It punishes me in so many ways today… Without any reason at all…
He registered Vivien’s mother pitched voice like a gravely wounded man who hears the siren of the emergency ambulance coming to his rescue.
“Vivien, what in the world have you done now? I was dead sure you would do some sort of foolishness. I could feel it in my bones since we were still at home,” the woman said, wiping her daughter’s tears with an embroidered handkerchief and getting her down from the piano.
“Caprices of a spoiled child! The lack of education always surfaces, as oil on top of water,” a hostile Mrs. Leigh hissed nastily. The new hairstyle that she had recently adopted, right after she had bleached her hair, encouraged one to wonder if she were not, in reality, advertising for brooms. In fact, it seemed that she displayed one – in a tasteless manner – right up on her own head.
“I beg your pardon!” Alison Hopkins replied indignantly, and her cheeks flamed. “Vivien is a very sensitive child. She only wanted to express her empathy with Timothy’s misfortune,” the woman said to her daughter’s defense.
“Will you forgive me, dear Alison,” Timothy’s mother excused herself theatrically, a scornful smile on her heavily made-up face. “I was thinking about an entirely different person. The thought that I was actually referring to your daughter shouldn’t even cross your mind.”
T
hen, Mrs. Leigh brushed past her son and told him in the same aggressive tone that had made her proverbial in the Woodside area.
“Don’t make such a fuss, Timothy dear! She wasn’t worthy of you anyway.”
Not quite content with her bitter remark, she turned around and lectured him a little more.
“Just forget her! All right? She’s five years older than you. You’re so young! Smart men don’t marry at 21. You think marriage is good sex and laughter. You’re wrong, son! Happy marriage is a
fata morgana
. Only fools rush in!”
Timothy didn’t want to reward her with a reply, and frustrated, she called her limousine driver and left.
Alison
Hopkins acted as if she had not heard Mrs. Leigh’s insensible words. She gently put a hand on the abandoned groom’s arm.
“We’re really sorry, Tim darling,” she told him sincerely. “You certainly didn’t deserve this.”
With that, she bid him goodbye and turned to her weeping daughter. She grabbed Vivien’s hand and dragged her toward the parking area, where Mr. Hopkins was waiting for them with the Mercedes’ doors open.
“I find it unnecessary to tell you that you’re grounded the entire following week,” she said categorically. “I am perfectly sure that you know what that means: no chocolates, no visiting friends, no escapades to Mademoiselle Lili, and no piano or French lessons.
Rien, comprenez-vous?
”
“
Oui, maman
,” the little girl answered resigned.
“Don’t be
so hard on her, Alison!” Carol Hopkins called from her chair.
Vivien freed herself from her mother’s hold and ran to give her dear grandmother a hug.
“There, there, child. You’re too young and beautiful to suffer. If it’s any help
at all, just remember that I’ll always love you.”
“I love you too, granny Carol.”
For a few seconds, under her granny’s fancy, flowery parasol, Vivien felt as if she had evaded into a fairy-tale-like world. The tears ceased to flow.
As the two women began to chat, the little girl turned to the groom again. More composed this time, she called out to him loud enough to make everybody look at her once again. She didn’t care what they thought, if they judged her, or if they made fun of her. She only cared about his answer.
“Tee, will you wait for me to grow up?”
Timothy nodded, smiling ruefully.
“I’ll try, Vee.”
“Good
,” she said calmly and wiped the last tear that still rested on her cheek like a glistening dewdrop.
Vivien was able to steal a few chocolate bonbons, and many of her friends came to their residence in Woodside that week. But her piano and French lessons with Mademoiselle Lili ceased forever.
Mademoiselle Lili had committed suicide that very day. When they had returned from the unfulfilled wedding, they had found her house in flames. Mr. Logan had not reached her in time to save her.