Short Stories

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“IT’S NOT THE WEDDING THAT COUNTS...”

I tiptoed into the room and pulled up a chair.

Gran was lying back on her pillows, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow and erratic. A pulsating vessel in her neck betrayed a weary, labouring heart. Her face glowed a waxy cream, her wrinkled cheeks flushed pale pink, blotched and blemished from extreme old age. Her scraggy grey hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail, giving her face a severe appearance which belied her gentle heart.

Gran was my life. She had always been there for me and now I realised with a pang that she was not immortal, after all. She had spent the last ten years of her life in bed, paralysed down her right side with only half a body, the other half withered and useless, but she had refused to be a victim. Now her frail life was slipping away.

After a few minutes she opened her faded blue eyes and stared at me. She greeted me in her soft Irish lilt, “O hello, my dear. Have you been here long?” I patted her scaly good arm, and smiled. “Hello, Gran.” I replied. “No, I have only been here a few minutes.” Leaning forward, I kissed her wrinkled forehead and settled back in my chair for a story. I loved Gran’s stories which she told with a twinkle in her eye, betraying her good humour and her sense of fun. She sighed and closed her eyes again, her mind ranging over a lifetime of accumulated experience.

“Have I ever told you about my wedding...” Her voice was gravelly and low, and I had to strain to hear her between laboured breaths. Then, mustering her strength with effort she began.

“I was young, only seventeen, and very much in love. O, he was so handsome and so caring. I knew he was the only one for me, my Jimmy.” She paused and a truant tear tricked down her cheek. “My mother couldn’t abide him. Never could understand why,” she muttered. She paused again and allowed the story to take shape in her mind.

“My twin sister, Kathleen, was always a thorn in my side.” She frowned and tugged at the bedclothes with her good hand, pulling them up closer around her chin. “Mom always favoured her above me. She was smart and pretty, I was plain and ordinary. She was clever with her hands and quick with her brain.” A slow smile spread around the corners of her mouth. “But I had Jimmy,” she whispered, “and we were very much in love. Jimmy loved me for me, not for what I could do.”

“Kathleen had her Peter, son of a wealthy landowner.” she continued. “I didn’t like him. He was arrogant and possessive. He thought he owned my sister, but Kathy adored him. I guess his money blinded her eyes to the real person she was choosing to wed.” She chuckled. “The marriage fell apart after all,” she announced, her gruff voice rising almost to a squeak, “just as I thought it would.” Aunt Kathleen was the one gloomy spot in Gran’s bright world of kindness and loving deeds.

“Kathleen and Peter announced their engagement on the Saturday night just before Christmas. Oh, what an evening we had, engagement party and Christmas all rolled into one.” Flashbacks of the celebration sparkled and popped in her mind. “Mum began her elaborate preparations for the wedding after the party. She was determined to make this the social event of the year. She was a bit of a snob, was Mum, especially since she had married into money.” A shadow clouded Gran’s eyes and she wiped away a stray tear on her sheet. “I was happy for Kathleen, I suppose, but in my heart I was jealous of her because of the fuss Mother was making. I knew my own wedding would never get the same treatment from Mom.” She took a moment to catch her breath and then continued.

“Jimmy was transferred to another town. We couldn’t bear the thought of being separated so we decided marry immediately. Mom and Dad were devastated. ‘But why?’ Mom whined. ‘Let me at least make you a pretty dress, my child,’ she said. I knew she was trying hard to smother her guilt because of the way she had always sidelined me. I reassured her, ‘It’s okay. I don’t need a fancy dress. Just let Jimmy and me go to our pastor and ask him to marry us in his office.’ Dad and Mom consented,” she continued, trying to lift her head as she relived those beautiful moments, “and we were married two days later, with just Dad, Mom and Kathleen as witnesses.”

Gran lay back on her pillows, exhausted. “And so, my dear,” she said between laboured breaths, “after months of preparation for my sister’s wedding, Mom got rid of me in two days! Just shows you, doesn’t it, that it’s not the wedding that counts, but the love that glues the marriage together. Sixty three years, my Jimmy and me....and I still miss him so...” her voice trailed away and she fell silent. A gentle snore told me Gran was sound asleep.

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