This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad

by Ngontang Mba, Danielle-Claude

  “Gather up, ladies,” Noor tells her bridesmaids. She gives them each a large shot glass of “The Noor”, a drink invented just for today. I take hers away and replace it with a small bottle of water and shake my head. “What?” she whispers.

  “No,” I whisper back. Not on my watch. We’re almost there; less than two hours to go. The bridesmaids are dressed in their fifties-inspired, shiny, grey, linen tea dresses, burgundy pumps and a big matching burgundy belt. Only fifties-style hair and makeup is allowed and it suits all nine of them very well. Juliet and Catherine just look timeless with their short hair.

  “I want to start by saying that I’m so happy to have all of my cousins with me today – Riddells and Mpobos alike. You’re the best crew ever! And let’s face it, most of you lost the next bride’s pool,” Noor tells them laughing. Because she won.“Isn’t that right Sasha, you Italian beauty queen!”

  Sasha blows her a kiss. “Si Bella. I’ll be next. Thomas can’t make me wait forever,” she laughs. Sasha and Noor are six months apart.

  “Anyway, I wanted to thank you all for putting up with me all week. I know we’re family but it means a lot to me. And I have to say, you all look gorgeous. Almost as good as me!” she says, still in her robe with a slick fifties beehive and side bangs, dark smoky eyes and lipstick.

  “Hear, hear!” we all proclaim and drink. I’m still in my robe too. I’ll help her ring bearer, Mitch, first then mother of all brides herself, before getting in my suit. At least my hair and makeup are ready. I’m just wearing my hair down and away from my face with the masterful help of small burgundy calla lily hair pins. Straight hair is sexy!

  “I have something for each of you,” Noor tells us then goes to her dressing table and picks up small Tiffany boxes. “I know a guy who knows a lady who has amazing connections,” she says, giving them their gifts: small platinum brooches stating their names; the groomsmen got one as well.

  I discreetly leave the room and go help little Mitch with his outfit, a cute little grey suit. He doesn’t put up too much of the fight and after I’m done with him, I quickly drop him off to his dad and go back to Noor. Her bridesmaids are now downstairs and she’s with Granddaddy and Lelly.

  “Okay, I’m back. Let’s get this bride in her dress,” I tell them. It’s almost 6.00 p.m.

  Granddaddy smiles and opens the big box in his hands. “It’s blue, it’s old…and I want it back…” he says while locking the sapphire and diamond tennis bracelet on Noor’s wrist, “eventually. Your grandmother’s wedding present. I thought that as you have her name, Nooradine Suzanne Georgia…”

  “Thank you!” Noor jumps in his arms, “You have been spoiling me – spoiling us – for so long, Granddaddy.” She’s all emotional but It’s too early to ruin her makeup.

  “You more than deserve it, all three of you. I’ll see you all in an hour.” He gives us each a kiss before leaving the room.

  “I’m going to get ready too. Guests will be starting to arrive soon,” Axelle says before leaving the room.

  “Finally alone!” Noor screams. “Can I have a drink now?”

  “No,” I say while getting her dress out. “Not until after you say I do.” She takes her robe off as I lay the dress on the floor for her. She has been all about fifties fashion for the wedding, but with a twist. She too is wearing a fifties-style, black and white, A-line, strapless wedding dress. The white, silky bodice is covered with embroidered black flowers and the skirt has black flowery patterns. I close off the dress and she turns around. She looks stunning…and her black, satin, diamante, bow peep toe pumps really complement her dress…her knees…her calves.

  “So…” she says.

  “You’re a bride, sweetie. The mother of all brides indeed,” I tell her, all chocked up.

  In the world of weddings, brides are queens and the mother of all brides wants me to wear black, high-waist, wide-leg pants instead of capris with the rest of my tux. Like the bridesmaids, I have to wear something burgundy. I opted for the thin blouse under my vest and my earrings. My open-toe pumps are the same color as my nail polish, black. It’s T-minus-thirty-minutes and I need a drink. Just a small one. I quickly go to the kitchen; the bar is already open in the ballroom but I don’t want to run into any guests.

  “Hi, boys. Can I get a small glass of champagne?” I ask. Hot sous-chef number two, also named Clark, gets in the fridge and pours one. “Thanks, love.”

  “Pre-wedding jitters?” he asks.

  “I’m not the bride but I am feeling those bloody jitters!” I laugh.

  Clark seems confused. Hot sous-chef number one, Donnie, comes to his rescue. “She’s her sister, mate. The one who baked those delicious cookies for the guests’ favors.”

  “Yup, each and every one of them,” I say. After we blew the budget on…everything else, I offered to invent a cookies recipe for them. The Andnoora Cookie Treats were born and I had to bake them all but got a lot of help with the packaging; they look and taste sensational.

  “Can I take you out for a drink sometime?” Clark asks. “If you can cook and look like this, you must be fighting them off with a stick.”

  “I usually use my guitar. I don’t live in London, Clark!” I tell him.

  “And you play too!” He takes back my empty glass, “If you’re in town next week, I’ll give you a call, love.” He winks with his gorgeous eyes before walking away.

  So…everyone knows which one is the single sister… I see. I should have begged Greg. Two days trip just to be my date; at least I would have some fun on the dance floor and in the lounge. But his tour comes first.

  Let’s check on Noor one more time before the ceremony. The groomsmen are all downstairs in their black and grey suits and their burgundy, calla lily boutonnieres. Noor’s bridesmaids have been hiding in one of the rooms with their own burgundy, calla lily bouquets. Guests are all getting seated so we have to make ourselves scarce until…

  “Noor, what do you have in your hand?” I ask her, entering her room.

  She quietly hands me its contents. “Permission to lift the Marcus gag order?” she asks. She doesn’t even look guilty.

  “Fucking granted. Speak now!” I say, looking at my charm bracelet. I have searched for it everywhere. “What does Marcus have to do with it?”

  “He gave it to me when I ran into him at Hartley’s last week,” she says. She takes my arm and puts it on for me. “Feel better now?” she asks.

  She’s unbelievable! She saw him and didn’t tell me! “Noor, what the fuck?” I get it; it’s her week…so why now? “He had it in the pub?”

  “Yes. Part of his key chain,” she tells me with a smile. “It goes well with what you’re wearing and you look so stunning!”

  “You know what, let’s not talk about this now.” I smoothly caress my wrist. Hello, old friend…I have missed you.

  “Okay. Is it time for us to go yet?” she asks with a small voice. Uh-ho…something isn’t right.

  “No, but soon,” I sit next to her. The night before her wedding, Axelle cried herself to sleep. I don’t think she knew that we heard her. The Mpobo-Riddell girls. The ones with no parents. I take Noor’s hand. The door opens and Axelle peeks in.

  “It’s time, my lovely ladies,” she whispers. I shake a no to her and she quickly looks at Noor. She seems to be in her own daze.

  “We will be right there,” I murmur and close the door. “We gotta go now, honey. They’re waiting for us to play our song,” I say, sitting back next to her.

  “I know. Just give me a minute,” she says. She deeply breathes in and out. “Five minutes.”

  “What would Papa say to me right now?” she finally asks after ten minutes of silence. “I’ve been trying to imagine this speech but I can’t.”

  “Not to ruin your one-hundred-pound makeup for starters!” I tell her. She looks so shaken. What would he say? “Here’s my Nooradine, the most beautiful girl in the world. I am so proud of the person you’ve become,” I tell her.

  “Yo
u really think so?” she says. My Noor is nothing but self-confident…but not right now.

  “I know he is,” I reassure her. “And today, look at you; you’re getting married to a man you love so much and we’re all here to support you in your sometimes-daring choices. I love you, Noora-Noora.” I take her in my arms.

  “I love you too, Papa, and I miss you so much. No one calls me Noora-Noora anymore,” she cries.

  “You asked us not too!” I’m carefully wiping her tears with a soft tissue. I came prepared. She laughs. Thank you, Papa, and I miss you too.

  “What would he think about Andrew? A daring choice?”

  “Well, he was an engineer; Andrew is a dancer,” I smirk.

  “He’s an artist!” She’s getting back to her old self.

  “And will that dancing business pay the bills? Or will he be counting on your Riddell trust fund?” I tease. Let’s get her fire started again.

  Her fire is burning now. She gets up and moves to the mirror. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me now, young lady,” I joke.

  “I don’t know…but I want to marry him and find out,” she admits with a small smile. But then she says, “We can’t all marry a Paul, right?”

  Should I tell her that yes we all can? I’ve got a car outside parked a couple of streets away from the house, hotel reservations in Paris, GPS directions to get us there and two tickets to Greece leaving on Monday from Charles de Gaulles Airport. Like I said, I came prepared.

  “What do you know? I don’t see you parading any doctors here…or even a date,” she snaps as she’s retrieving her veil.

  “Well, glad to have you back, Noor. And I’ll have you know that I’ve been asked out by one of the sous-chefs downstairs: Clark.” I come and set her veil up.

  “A bit of the down trade from a world-famous music producer, one would say,” she teases. We’re almost ready to go now. Noor is already at the door.

  “Ouch! There is definitely something wrong with you.” I give her her freaky cascading bouquet, black calla lilies and back roses. “The black flowers bouquet; very morbid one might say,” I tell her as I knock on the door to signal Axelle.

  “It’s trendy, fashionable and sophisticated; something you obviously know nothing about,” she says with a big smile. Alright we’re getting married today!

  Axelle opens the door. “We’re all set?” she asks me , her eyes full of fears.

  “Lelly, I’m getting fucking married!” Noor says.

  “Thank God!” she yells back and signals the rest of the bridal party. “Everyone take your place, like we rehearsed yesterday.” She goes down and places all the groomsmen with their two bridesmaids on the balcony as we wait inside. The music starts. I don’t know how Andrew agreed to this Accaba song. Lucia’s song to Nooradine, “Mine forever”, but only instrumental with a violin and guitar.

  “You’re mighty, you’re forceful, all and all beautiful and you shall be mine forever,” we both whisper and sing as we start walking on the balcony and down the stairs. “You know I wouldn’t have been able to walk down that aisle without you,” she whispers, hugging my arm tighter. She looks around before we even get into the tent where everyone is.

  “She’s not here, sweetie. I’m sorry.” I know she’s looking for our mother. Axelle did the same thing a decade ago.

  “Are you sure? It’s her daughter’s wedding,” she whispers.

  “I’m pretty sure. She’s not coming,” I whisper back. She hasn’t been coming in fourteen years. “Unlike Papa, she doesn’t deserve a single thought right now,” I tell her.

  We’re getting to the tent, all black, white and grey with a dash of burgundy. Noor did good.

  “But I’m here,” I say when I feel her tensing up. “And you’re mighty, you’re forceful, all and all beautiful and you shall be mine forever, Noora-Noora,” I whisper. I turn to her and come face to face with Marcus’ smile.

  “Was that Marcus?” I whisper between my teeth.

  “Maybe…” she whispers back, smiling, getting closer to Andrew. “We’re here…” I keep her with me a little longer before giving her away to him. “I am forever yours, Luce. No men or new best friends will ever change that,” she whispers quickly before going in front of the officiant with Andrew.

  The ceremony lasted exactly thirty-five minutes. Noor and her now-husband timed it to a T. Right after, we went for pictures while the guests made good use of the lounge room with open bars and appetizer stations. You could believe that a couple like the Burtons – yes, they are now the Burtons – would want to spend hours taking pictures of themselves, but instead they hired six photographs for the day. Two have been following the bride and her party all morning up to the ceremony, two were following the groom and his groomsmen and the rest were taking pictures all over the house. We spent forty-five minutes posing for family pictures post-ceremony with four of them.

  Now we’re standing in front of the bridal sofa with Andrew, his parents, Noor, Axelle and Granddaddy to greet guests and receive their congratulations. I need a cigarette! I take a peek at Axelle; she needs one too. We’ve been standing for forty-five minutes.

  “Can we at least get a fucking drink?” I whisper to her.

  “We’re almost done and the tent won’t be ready for another thirty minutes,” she whispers back. “So, yes, we need a bloody drink now.” She waves at Paul.

  “Gin on the rocks for me,” Granddaddy tells her.

  “Thank God! ‘The Noor’ for me, please,” Noor says.

  “Fucking London!” all three of us say at the same time before laughing. Axelle looks so happy and beautiful in her sixties, Hollywood glamour inspired, champagne dress; she’s even wearing long gloves and pearls.

  “Andrew, Noor, congratulation!” a familiar voice says. So it was him! He’s wearing a black-stripe, slim-fit suit. I’ve never seen him in a full suit before. He completely shaved and cut off his hair. He looks absolutely fetching…

  “Thank you, Marcus,” Noor hugs him. “I love your suit and a grey and dark red tie… Who told you?” she says.

  “Thank you, Marcus,” Andrew shakes his hand. “I’m glad your family was able to make it here,” he adds. His family?

  “Thank you. This is my brother, Patrick.” He shows the man next to him. Oh…

  “Oh my…” I hear Noor say. Oh my?

  “Congratulation to you both. I’ve heard a lot about you all from Marcus. I’m Doctor Patrick Grant,” he says, giving her a kiss.

  I can only see Marcus and he is now talking with Granddaddy and Axelle as the next guest is talking to a flustered Noor and a proud Andrew. The man I assume is Marcus’ brother comes directly to me. Oh my…

  “Hi, Lucia. I’m Patrick, Doctor Patrick Grant. How do you do?” And he kisses my hand. Patrick is just breathtakingly handsome. “You I especially wanted to meet,” he says in his fitted black tux, his black hair pulled back sixties-style, showing off his light-brown eyes. “Even more beautiful in person,” he adds.

  “Marcus is the ugly brother!” I answer while unable to stop staring. “I mean nice to meet you.” I turn to Axelle and Marcus. “What the hell, Lelly?” I whisper.

  “Marcus was just telling us. His Aunt Sue Miller, now Stonenberg; family friend for a couple of generations,” Axelle explains.

  “Yes, I haven’t seen Sue since her father’s, your grandfather’s, funeral last year,” Granddaddy says.

  “She flew to Rome earlier this week to be with our cousin. So we’re here to represent the Miller family,” Patrick tells him.

  “Isn’t this splendid? I get to officially meet the new Miller generation,” Granddaddy says. He gently takes my arm. “Marcus, this is Lucia, Noor’s younger sister,” he tells him with a big smile.

  Well this… There is no name for this. Have we come full circle? I’m being introduced to Marcus…again… for the third time. Patrick is positively grinning next to us.

  “Hey, Luce. You’re wearing my bracelet,” Marcus says with an int
imate smile.

  “You finally cut that hair of yours… Oh and your brother is dashing,” I answer.

  “I heard you the first time,” he answers. He seems annoyed; can’t be the first time he’s heard that.

  “No, I mean really, really dashing,” I tease. I turn to a confused Granddaddy as other guests are waiting to greet us. “We’ve met,” I tell him. Granddaddy’s a sweet man, the best one I know.

  “You’re ravishing,” Marcus murmurs in my ear before walking away with Patrick. Here comes that funny feeling again, you know the one that never left me. Don’t look back, don’t look back… I look back and Marcus has been waiting for me to look back all along.

  “Hey,” he mimes.

  “Hey,” I mime back. So…this is really happening. “I need a cigarette and a drink. Now!” I tell Axelle before smiling and shaking more hands.

  “Late, light dinner service will be starting in ten minutes,” The MC says, just before the band starts performing in the completely changed tent. All the tables have been set out to leave a big enough space for a dance floor. Marcus and Patrick come to join us at our table; only Axelle, Paul and I are seated.

  “So where are the rest of your table?” Patrick asks.

  “Bloody hell! He is a dashing one,” Axelle says. We have our smoke and a couple of drinks in us now. It’s officially a party.

  “You can sit with us; this table is a bit smaller. We’re only missing the groom’s parents and Arthur,” Paul says.

  “And Andrew and Noor Burton of course,” I add. I pat the chair on my right. “Please, Patrick, take a seat,” I tell him with a seductive smile. That man just makes me blush. I feel like a teenager again around him. Marcus looks hurt. “What? I don’t know him yet,” I tell him.