Too Much of a Good Thing

by J. J. Murray

  Yes, I’m going to have a little extra hair for Joe to have fun with. Not a whole lot, now. I want him to recognize me at the altar.

  “Now,” Rose says to Toni, “we have to find something borrowed and something blue for your mama.”

  “I have something you can borrow, Mama,” Toni says.

  “What?” I ask.

  She pulls a thin light blue ribbon from her pocket. It can’t be more than six inches long. “You could maybe pin it somewhere.”

  “It doesn’t match anything, Toni,” I say.

  “So?” Toni says.

  I kneel in front of her. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Joey gave it to me,” Toni says. “He showed me this box that had a lot of little ribbons and pictures of his mommy and buttons and bookmarks. He said I could use it for my hair, but it’s not long enough.”

  So, Joey, the quietest child, has a memory box. I have one, too, under my bed, and it’s filled with all sorts of little things that remind me of Rodney: movie ticket stubs, Post-its with “I love you” or simply his handwriting, receipts from our rare dinners out, his dog tags, some old pictures, a tie tack or two. I don’t think I could ever give these memories away, but here’s Joey giving Toni a memory of his mama. I connect with Rose’s eyes, and she nods. She understands what Joey has done.

  I take the ribbon. “I am going to wear this ribbon on my finger,” I say. I tie it hastily to where my engagement ring used to be. I look at that ribbon as if it’s purest gold. “Stylish, isn’t it?”

  Toni smiles.

  “Now all I need is to borrow something,” I say, and I look directly at Rose.

  “I, um, I have a large collection of garters.”

  I try not to react, but most girls—most women, for that matter—do not have even a small collection of garters. “You do?” I ask.

  “All colors,” she says.

  That surprises me, too, because I thought any garter she had would be black.

  “You’ll be wearing a slip,” Rose says, “so even, say, a dark color won’t show.”

  I have to ask the obvious question. “Um, and you only want me to borrow it, right?”

  “Of course,” Rose says, as if borrowing is the only thing you can do with garters.

  “But I’m supposed to throw it to the eligible males at the reception, aren’t I?”

  Rose smiles. “You’ll just wear two. One you’ll throw, and one you’ll return to me after the honeymoon.”

  This is twisted.

  “I mean,” Rose says, “I’ll need it for my wedding one day.”

  And then I almost start to cry. In the space of fifteen minutes, the three of us have created a tradition, a new family tradition just for the girls. While each of the girls may not wear my wedding dress, each one will wear this blue ribbon. And while the thought kind of creeps me out, each one of my girls will wear two garters.

  “Rose, I would be happy to wear one of your garters,” I say. “You decide the color. Now, we need to get back to my party.”

  It isn’t much of a party, really. We’re just sitting around in a mostly empty apartment playing cards. I had invited all the ladies from McDonald’s, but they all either had to work or had dates. I invited Rema, but she had to work overtime. I invited several ladies from Pilgrim, but they told me they were too busy cooking and preparing the fellowship hall for the reception.

  Rose, Toni, and I walk into the kitchen where a bid whist game rages, all eyes on Elle. Earlier in the day, my mama had taught Elle the rudiments of the game, and Elle had picked them up quickly.

  Elle throws down her last card. “Didn’t think I could do it, did you?”

  And now she’s talking stuff, too?

  Mama smiles and yells, “Next!”

  Cousins Tina and Joetta, the only two cousins who could come up from Atlanta, don’t move.

  “Ten in a row,” Elle says. “We are on fire! Who’s next, who’s next?”

  “We are, for the tenth time,” Tina says. “Now deal.”

  Elle beams up at me. “I just like saying that so much!”

  “Listen, y’all,” I say, “I am dead tired, so I’m turning in early. Don’t be too loud, okay?”

  I hit my bed and stare up at the ceiling, thinking of Joe, my daddy, Cousin Boo, and the boys, who are fishing down at Smith Mountain Lake. I’ll bet they’re catching lots of fish. Hmm. They will all probably smell fishy at the wedding tomorrow.

  It’s going to be a pretty small wedding. Folks from Joe’s work and my work will be coming. Folks from Pilgrim will be coming. And, of course, there are bound to be people that just show up, maybe by accident, going to the wrong wedding and just sticking around for the reception. I doubt I’ll even look out at the pews, anyway. My eyes will be on Joe.

  I roll off the bed and take out my memory box, a box that a can opener had come in a long time ago. It was probably a wedding gift. Inside I see Rodney’s high school graduation picture, a couple wedding pictures, Rodney’s high school class ring, and some other bits and pieces of Rodney I collected from our house after he died. I hold up the most recent picture of Rodney. He is standing in the second row of a team picture surrounded by six- and seven-year-old football players. There’s Junior in the first row. Rodney was just starting his chemo then, but he wouldn’t give up coaching his son.

  “Hey, Boo,” I whisper to the man in the back row. “You coming to the wedding? I know you’ll be there. I still miss you, but I had to move on. I hope you understand. God blessed me with you, and He’s blessing me again in spite of myself. I’m not about to argue with Him. God is good, God is great.” Normally, I’d kiss the picture, but tonight ... I don’t feel the need.

  I close my eyes, hearing Rodney’s voice say, “There is much sense in what you say.”

  Good night, Rodney.

  67

  Joe

  If Dad and Shawna’s dad had their way, we’d be having a fish fry at the wedding reception. The seven of us caught enough bass and catfish to feed an army, Cousin Boo catching a nine-pound catfish from shore while we were just loading up the pontoon boat we rented for the day.

  “We can’t take this many fish back to Roanoke,” I said, looking at seven stringers filled with fish, fish we caught in just two hours in front of a dam as the sun set.

  So we had a midnight fish fry right there at a picnic pavilion. No bread, no potatoes, no corn, no salad—just fish.

  I barely fit into my tux today.

  These past few weeks, though, have been brutal enough that I’ve lost some weight. I don’t see how Shawna has kept her sanity. I have been sick with worry and anticipation while she has somehow maintained her poise and sense of humor. I had to pick up her ring, which was supposed to have been resized five days ago, but was ready only two hours ago. Jimmy’s shoes, which fit three weeks ago, don’t fit today unless he goes sockless. Dad is supposed to be back any time now with a larger pair. I cut myself shaving again. I can’t remember my vows, even though Junior and Joey have been helping me. I don’t want to read from a piece of paper. I want it to seem natural and from the heart—which it is—but I can’t get my heart slowed down enough to think clearly. I was worried that we’d be late to the church because of the boys, and here I am in the men’s room at Pilgrim having trouble with the bow tie.

  Lord, I need You.

  Was I this nervous twenty years ago? I don’t remember being nervous. Of course, back then, all I had to do was show up. I didn’t have to house anyone or feed anyone extra or—

  I’m getting married today. All that was yesterday. Today is what matters. Today is the—

  “Are you ready, Joe?”

  I turn to see Pastor Reed in his pastoral gown.

  “Has the music started?”

  I hear the organist beginning to play the prelude.

  “You have a little time,” Pastor Reed says. He reaches up and adjusts my tie. “That’s better. We’ll be waiting outside.” He leaves the restroom.

  I peel the pi
ece of toilet paper from my chin, and it doesn’t bleed again. Small miracle. After washing and drying my hands, I leave the restroom to wait with the boys in a small room near the front of the church. They don’t look nervous at all. In fact, this is all just another good time for them.

  As it should be. Lord, help me relax. I feel in my jacket pocket for the ring and the envelope. They’re still there.

  “You look great, Dad,” Jimmy says.

  “So do you,” I say.

  They all do, all spiffed up and creased. Mom is going to take lots of pictures of them today. It was so odd that both Shawna and I completely forgot about pictures, and we probably couldn’t have gotten a wedding photographer on such short notice, anyway, but Mom has graciously accepted the job.

  And now I have a job to do, one I have been stressing about for weeks.

  I take the ring box from my jacket pocket. “Fellas,” I say, looking at my shiny black shoes, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about who should, um, keep this ring safe until it’s time for me to put it on Shawna’s finger. All three of you are my best men, but only one of you can hold the ring for me.” I look at Jimmy. “If we were having a fancy wedding, Jimmy, we’d have a little boy play ring bearer, but you’re not a little boy anymore.” I look at Junior. “You and your granddad are giving your mother away today, which is a great honor, so ...” I hand the ring box to Joey. “Joey, I’d like you to hold the ring.”

  Joey takes the box. “Thank you.”

  “Now,” I say with a sigh, “I am really nervous, so stay close to me. If you see me start to sway, catch me.”

  Pastor Reed sticks his head into the room. “Let’s get married,” he says.

  I lead the boys out into the sanctuary, paying careful attention to putting one foot in front of the other, hoping I don’t step on the backs of Pastor Reed’s shoes. Pastor Reed stops, and we turn to face the audience ...

  There isn’t a single empty seat.

  Wow. Where did they all come from?

  The “Wedding March” begins, and the audience stands. The girls walk in, Toni first, Rose second, Crystal third.

  Wow. I have some beautiful daughters.

  And when they get to us, each one of them kisses me on the cheek, even Crystal.

  And now I’m about to cry at my own wedding.

  Then I see Shawna and her dad ...

  Wow.

  Breathe.

  She’s ... wow.

  I am lost in this woman’s beauty. God, thank You, thank You.

  And then things get a little hazy, except for Shawna’s face and a little blue ribbon on her finger. What’s that about? But I can’t take my eyes off her eyes! Pastor Reed could be reading the entire book of Genesis right now, and I wouldn’t know it. And then I’m suddenly taking her hand and it’s sweaty, too, and I’m facing her, and it feels like heaven—

  “Joe,” Shawna whispers.

  I blink.

  “Your vows,” Pastor Reed whispers.

  Where am I? Oh, yes. I’m at my wedding. I clear my throat, and without even really thinking too hard, I say, “Na-penda kukuona mpenzi wangu ni furaha ya moyo wangu.”

  Shawna smiles.

  I love that smile. I want to see her smile like that always. Such peace that smile brings me. But now her eyes are narrowing. She’s saying something like “the translation, Joe” through her teeth.

  “Oh,” I say. “It means ...”

  What does it mean?

  How can I remember the Swahili and forget the English? I turn to Junior for help.

  He steps closer and whispers, “‘I love to see you, my dear.’”

  Now I remember. I squeeze his shoulder. “I remember.”

  Junior returns to his place beside Joey.

  I take a deep breath. “Sorry,” I say, and it’s then that I notice my voice bouncing around the sanctuary. There’s a microphone here? Oh, yes. There it is in Pastor Reed’s hands. I look at the audience. “I’m, um, sorry, y’all. I, uh, I just started looking at Shawna and was thinking how beautiful she is, and I forgot where I was.”

  She squeezes my hand and begins to tear up.

  “I love to see you, my dear,” I say. “You are the joy of my heart.”

  68

  Shawna

  I told everyone I would be too happy to cry, and here I am crying!

  Joe lifts my veil and wipes away a tear. And, oh, the audience is eating this stuff up. I even hear a few amens among the ahs.

  “You have brought me joy, Shawna,” Joe continues, “joy I didn’t know existed. I promise to bring you joy for as long as we live. I love you.”

  Whoo. It’s my turn.

  “Joe ...” I had this all planned out, I swear, but I can’t say all that about love and cherish and hold on to each other now like at a typical wedding because we are not a typical couple, nor will we have a typical family. This has to be from my heart.

  So ... I wing it.

  “Joe ... Well, here we are.”

  I have no idea what I’m doing.

  “I never expected to be here.”

  I have no idea what I’m saying.

  “I never thought ...” More tears. “I never thought I’d find another man to love me.” I wipe away a tear. “Sorry.”

  “I love you,” Joe says through a few tears of his own.

  “I love you, too,” I say.

  Oh, now we’re making folks in the sanctuary cry, too, lots of sniffling and men clearing their throats.

  “Sorry, y’all,” I say to them. “God has just been that good.”

  After some resounding amens, I look at my children, all six of them.

  “God brought us all together,” I say, “and though I don’t know what’s going to happen, whatever happens, Joe, I want it to be with you.”

  “Are you ... finished?” Pastor Read asks.

  I laugh. “I sure hope not. Joe and I are just getting started.”

  And then, at my second wedding in front of more people than were at my first wedding, I hear laughter, glorious, glorious laughter. In fact, I’m still giggling when Joey hands the ring to Joe and he slides it on top of the blue ribbon, I’m still giggling when I slide Joe’s ring on, and I’m still giggling when I lay quite a tongue-twisting soul kiss on my man to seal the deal for all eternity.

  “I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Joe and Shawna Murphy,” Pastor Reed says.

  And don’t you know, we get us a standing ovation, and instead of just Joe and I walking down that aisle, all eight of us do a little marching, Elle snapping lots of pictures—and giggling a little herself.

  It is thick at the reception, so thick I wonder if they’ll be able to seat and feed everybody. Though Crystal thought—and probably still thinks—that having a variety of sheet cakes instead of a wedding cake is tacky, no one else seems to mind. We have all the bases covered, too, so no one can say no. We’ve got red velvet cake with white icing, yellow cake with chocolate icing, white cake with white icing, and carrot cake with sweet cream cheese icing. And the food selection is amazing. It seems as if every woman—and some men, too—at Pilgrim have brought a dish. I have to use two plates to contain it all, but I don’t get a chance to do much eating, what with so many people to greet and hug—and a new husband to kiss.

  “Mama,” Toni tells me, “there are so many gifts on that table upstairs. Lots of envelopes, too.”

  Joe nearly falls out of his chair. “Oh, no.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Um, nothing.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope. He peeks inside and widens his eyes. “We have to go.”

  “Huh? Now?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  I cover up Toni’s ears with my hands. “I’m feeling pretty horny, too, but we can’t just leave all these people.”

  Toni swats my hands away. “Mama, please.”

  Kaz comes up to our table. “It’s here.”

  “What’s here?” I ask.

  Joe takes my hand, pulling me to
my feet. “We don’t want to be late.”

  “For what?” I ask. “I have to throw the bouquet, and you have to feel up my leg, man.”

  “Huh?” Toni asks.

  Oops. I turn to her. “He has to take the garter off my leg.”

  “Oh,” Toni says.

  I turn to Joe. “And we still have to go back to the house, change our clothes, and pack the van.”

  “There’s no time for that,” Joe says. He looks out onto the crowd. “Your attention, please! May I please have your attention!”

  I turn to Toni. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  She shrugs.

  The crowd a little quieter, Joe says, “Shawna and I have to leave now, but we want you to stay and enjoy yourselves. Let’s give all the cooks a big hand!”

  And while the people clap, Joe tries to drag me away and out of the church.

  “No,” I say as I drop his hand. “I am throwing this bouquet.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Throw it.”

  “But they’re not lined up!”

  “Hand it to someone then, Shawna. We have to go now.” He walks to a window. “Look.”

  I look outside and see a black limousine. “That envelope in your pocket. Are there tickets in there?”

  He nods.

  “We’re flying?”

  “Only if we get there in time.”

  I tap Mary Simpson, a fortysomething single woman, who has been in the singles adult Sunday School class since the class began twenty years ago. “Mary, catch this bouquet.”

  She catches it. “Thank you, Shawna.” She then tries to hug me.

  “No offense, Mary, but I got to go.” I hike up my dress right there at Pilgrim. “Get the garter quick, Joe.”

  Joe drops to his knees. “Which one?”

  “Either, it doesn’t matter.”

  I don’t even feel the garter leaving me. Joe stands there holding it as I let down my dress.

  “Well, give it to somebody, Joe.”

  “Who should I—”

  I snatch the garter and hand it to Mary. “Girl, you take this and give it to the man you want. I got to go.”

  I didn’t know I could run so fast in a wedding dress. As soon as we get into the limo, it takes off, and Joe shows me the tickets.