by Howe, Violet
Weather forecasters have placed Orlando in the cone of uncertainty for an approaching hurricane this weekend.
It’s not that uncertain at all over here. We’re in the midst of a wedding hurricane, and the wind is starting to blow from all directions.
Maggie called this morning to ask if Cabe and I could meet her for lunch. Considering that she’s never asked us that before, I was a little nervous.
I called Cabe as I drove to meet him downtown. “What do you think she wants?”
“I think she wants to take us to lunch.”
“But why?”
“Um, because she loves us and wants to spend time with us?”
“She’s never asked us to lunch before.”
He laughed. “She asks me to lunch all the time. Maybe now that we’re engaged she wants to spend more time with you. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s a free lunch and you get to see me.”
“Both fabulous prizes, to be sure, but I’m just a little apprehensive. I’ve already got my mama dragon breathing down my neck. I’d prefer to stay on good terms with yours.”
It was a lovely lunch. Maggie had recommended a little Thai cafe, and it didn’t disappoint. The dumplings were delicious and the Panang curry was one of the best I’d ever eaten.
We’d finished our meal and were waiting on the check when the climate shifted.
“I thought I’d ask you two downtown so we could take a look at the Performing Arts Center. I’m not sure how familiar you are with our space, Tyler, and though we aren’t known as a wedding location, there are a couple of terraces and alcoves that would be just lovely. You may already have locations, but I’d like to at least show you a few things for your consideration.”
My stomach tightened and my Panang went sour. This was what I had dreaded. The counter-attack. The last thing I wanted was to be in a tug-of-war between my mom and his.
We walked the space with her, and she was right. There were some beautiful locations to consider. The venue was centrally located and the atmosphere was pure elegance. Several key hotels were within walking distance, and there were many options for both ceremony and reception at the Arts Center.
Had I not been faced with such tension and turmoil regarding our wedding location, I probably would have been intrigued.
It definitely interested me that I had never done a wedding there, nor had Laura or Lillian. Maggie mentioned they had an in-house coordinator who had handled a couple of small events, but weddings were not a business they desired or pursued. So it definitely fit the unique qualification I was seeking.
Maggie was the consummate tour guide, pointing out all the amenities and benefits of the location without ever pushing a hard sale.
Several times she would say, “Of course, it’s up to the two of you,” or “it’s your event, so whatever you feel is best” or even “it doesn’t matter to me one way or another. I just want you to have options.”
I appreciated her saying those things, and I appreciated the time and effort she put in. She was not in any way applying the tourniquet my mother uses. But at the same time, it added more pressure. Here was someone else’s opinion to take into consideration and someone else who might be disappointed or let down depending on our choice, despite what she said.
Cabe asked what was wrong as I picked at my dinner tonight.
“I don’t know. I just feel like everyone has a stake in where we have the wedding, and I kind of want it to be up to us.”
“It is up to us. It’s our decision.”
“Ha! Right. Our decision. And as soon as we make it, everyone will let us know how we let them down.” I stood and took my unfinished plate to the kitchen.
“You can’t let that bother you, babe. It’s our wedding. It’s our decision.”
“You already said that.” I walked past him and flopped down on the couch.
He finished eating and followed me to the living room.
“So what is it you want to do? If no one else was involved?”
I covered my face with my arm and swallowed against the tears of frustration I felt stinging my eyes.
Cabe lifted my feet and pulled them into his lap. He began to rub the soles and my toes, which normally tickles so badly I can’t stand it. But I was in no mood to be tickled tonight.
I moved my arm to look at him.
“I don’t know what I want. Part of me thinks it would be cool to get married in my hometown church with all my family there and have the big party afterwards. But I can’t begin to think how much of a pain that would be to plan from here and how much Mama and her sisters would take over. Besides, that’s not your church. It’s not your home. I want our wedding to be about both of us.”
“It will be. No matter where it is.”
“So you don’t care if we have it there?”
He shook his head. “Nope. If that’s where you want it, that’s fine with me. You tell me where to show up and I’ll be there. Locked and ready. Any time. Any place.”
“But then another part of me wants to have it here. I have photographers and DJs and people I work with and I’ve seen what they can do. I’d kind of like to have them involved, ya know? I know if we have this back home, I’m gonna get some god-awful DIY project that Mama and Aunt Pearl throw together under Aunt Pearl’s carport. She wants my cousin Wanda to make the bridesmaids’ dresses. Ugh!”
I covered my face again, unable to keep my pouty tears at bay any longer.
“So have it here somewhere.” Cabe stated it so matter-of-factly that I wanted to throw something at him.
I sat up and pulled my feet from his lap. “You don’t get it. You just don’t get it. These people aren’t going to be mad at you or hurt and offended by your choices. You’re the groom. You get to just show up and look hot in a tux. Grooms have it easy.”
“Okay. What can I do to help? How can I take some of the pressure off you?”
I stood up. “You can’t. Don’t you see? The groom doesn’t have to pick flowers and music and linens and dresses and make sure everyone’s feelings are being considered and no one’s left out.”
“I’m willing to, if that helps. I can go with you to pick flowers and linens. I’d love to pick music. Just tell me how to help you, and I’ll do it.”
I paced a couple of times and sat back down. “I appreciate your help. I do. And I want your input and I want you involved. I just feel like no matter what I do, someone’s not going to be happy. I spend every day of my life making sure other people’s weddings are what they want them to be. That they’re beautiful and orchestrated well. That they reflect the couple and who they are. I feel like I can’t do that for us. Which is why I wanted to elope.”
Cabe sat quiet for a few minutes and then reached and took my hand in his. He rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand as he stared at our fingers.
“Then let’s elope,” he finally said with a big exhale. “Let’s just say screw it and take off. Just the two of us. We won’t even tell anyone.”
I held my breath for a second, unsure if he was serious. “But I thought you didn’t want to elope. I thought you wanted the big wedding.”
He shrugged. “I guess I didn’t know what I was getting into. The last thing I wanted was for you to be all stressed out and unhappy. If this can’t be fun for you, then I don’t want it. Let’s elope.”
“You mean it? Really? You’re not going to regret it?”
He answered me with a kiss, and I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt lighter than air.
This feels right. This is the answer. We’re gonna elope!
Thursday, August 7th
I can’t believe how excited I am to plan now that we’re eloping. I’ve been doing some internet searches for locations and I’ve requested a few brochures. My heart has felt lighter and the sun has shone brighter since we decided to elope. Well, okay, the sun’s been peeking between clouds from the impending storm, but still.
My bride for this weekend is surprising
ly calm about the whole hurricane thing. They arrived yesterday from England and were greeted at hotel check-in with a letter advising guests of the projected path bringing the hurricane right over Orlando.
They’d traveled here with twenty-four of their closest friends and family, and the excitement of an approaching hurricane only seemed to add to their festive spirits.
I spoke with the catering manager at the hotel, who has assured me they have procedures in place for back-up in case of a storm, but I’d still feel better if the forecast models shifted it out into the Atlantic.
Cabe went to Home Depot last night to buy shutters for our house, and then he took the day off today to put up Maggie’s shutters and install ours. We brought in the patio furniture from the porches yesterday and stacked it all in the living room, which has confused poor Deacon something bad. He was just beginning to calm back down from the shock of having my furniture moved in along with my myriad of boxes all over the house.
More than once I was worried he was going to lift a leg to mark his territory with so much upheaval.
I called Cabe from the grocery store this afternoon, amazed at what I was seeing. “Honey, evidently this is serious. There’s no water. No bread. No soups. I keep looking around at other people’s carts and going oh, pop-tarts. That’s a good idea. Ravioli. That doesn’t have to be heated. But then when I get to that aisle, all the non-perishable stuff that could be eaten without electricity is gone. I never knew how many food items depend on electricity.”
“I picked up water and batteries at Home Depot earlier, so don’t worry about those. Be sure you stop and get gas, though. They’re saying some stations are running out.”
“Holy crap. It’s like the apocalypse. Do you think it’s going to get that bad?”
The sound of his hammer pounding in the background was almost deafening.
“I don’t know, babe. We’ve ridden out hurricanes before, and usually by the time they get to Orlando, they’ve crossed enough land to weaken. But they’re saying this is a big one. So we’ll see. It still could turn.”
I told him goodbye to answer Laura’s incoming call.
“Your wedding still on?”
“Yep. So far,” I said.
“Okay, that means all four ceremonies for Saturday are still on track. Let’s regroup later this afternoon and see what the forecast is. We can always cancel tonight if need be. Unless, of course, your bride and groom choose to cancel before then. Keep me posted.”
The line at the gas station was ridiculously long. It took me over forty-five minutes to make it to a pump and get gas. A couple of people were even fighting over pumps and who had gotten there first.
I felt like I had been transported to a different place and time. Everything around me felt foreign and unfamiliar.
“What did you end up getting?” Cabe asked when I came through the door several hours later.
“Some cheese in a can, crackers, and some bags of pepperoni. Oh, and snack cakes.”
He looked at my haul as I poured it out on the table.
“Powdered donuts? Awesome. We may survive the hurricane and die from an overdose of junk food.”
“It was all they had left. I went to three different stores before I could find Doritos or cinnamon buns. It was crazy insane out there.”
My phone rang as I was trying to find places in the pantry for our junk food feast.
“Hey, sugar. Are y’all about to blow away down there?”
“Not yet, Mama. The news said it would probably start to get bad later this evening when the storm gets closer.”
“Your apartment’s on the top floor, right? Is it safe?”
I cringed. I still hadn’t told her I’d moved in with Cabe. Nor did I plan to if I could help it.
“Actually, I’m gonna ride out the storm here at Cabe’s house. Probably safer.”
“Good. That’s good. I feel better knowing you’ll be in a house and not by yourself. What about his mama? Where’s she gonna be?”
“Maggie’s on the rideout crew at the Performing Arts Center. I think they’re opening some areas for shelter for some of the residents downtown. So she’ll be safe.”
“Good. Good. Well, I just wanted to check on y’all. Keep me posted. I’m watching the news here and it looks bad heading your way. I’ll be on pins and needles ‘til you call me.”
I hesitated, unsure if now would be the best time to tell her our decision. I’d told her I’d give her an answer by the end of the week, but with the storm coming and her being all worried about us, it didn’t seem fair to destroy her wedding dreams on top of it.
She brought it up before I could mention it, though.
“Tyler, honey, I been thinking a lot about this wedding, and I want you to know I’ll support you with whatever you decide. I know I’ve put a lot of pressure on you to come here and have it like I want it, and of course, I’d be thrilled if you did that. But it’s your wedding, baby. Yours and Cabe’s. I already had the only wedding I’m ever gonna have. You deserve to have yours the way you want it.”
I was astounded. Caught off guard. Speechless. Immediately brought to tears.
“Well, thank you, Mama.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Just be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for any of my young’uns was for y’all to be happy.” Her voice broke with emotion. “I guess I can understand why none of you girls would want me involved in your wedding. I know I’m not always the easiest mother to deal with, but everything I’ve done—everything I do—is because I love you. Want the best for you.”
“I know, Mama. I know that. We all know that.” I cried right along with her.
“So do your wedding like you want it. I’ll abide by it.”
“Thank you, Mama. That really means a lot. You have no idea—”
“That’s what your sisters did. They did what they wanted and didn’t worry about what I might want. And I’m sure your brother is going to end up marrying Kelly, and her mama and daddy will be doing their wedding. I probably won’t be included then either. I just never thought when your sweet daddy and I birthed four children—oh Lord rest his soul—that I wouldn’t even get one wedding, not one wedding, out of the four to plan.”
I got quiet. Somewhere along the line, her kind gesture had morphed back into typical Mama.
“I’ll let you go, sugar. But keep me in the loop, okay? I’ll feel better if I can at least be in on your plans. Love you. Stay safe. Call me.”
She hung up and the lump settled back into its comfy spot in my stomach. My shoulders tensed and drew back up closer to my ears. The entire room darkened, which I know was due to Cabe covering the last set of windows with a storm shutter, but it matched my mood.
I hadn’t escaped the hurricane after all.
Saturday, August 9th
The sky turned dark yesterday long before night. Once the rains started, it seemed they would never end.
Luckily, I think we dodged the worst of it, but it was definitely not pleasant.
Cabe had made dinner early so we would have a good meal before the storm began. We walked Deacon when the wind picked up and the sky began to darken, not knowing for sure when he’d next be able to go out.
The power went around seven and still hasn’t come back on. Once it blew, there wasn’t anything we could do but ride it out. Sleeping was out of the question with the wind howling incessantly and the constant battering of rain against the house. So Cabe opened a bottle of wine, and we played Scrabble by candlelight for hours, listening to the wind and trying to keep Deacon calm.
Poor baby shivered and shook, whining as he paced back and forth from me to Cabe in a steady pant. Cabe had bought him one of those thunder things that’s supposed to calm dogs in storms. I think maybe if it had been a normal Florida rainstorm it might have helped, but it was no match for a category three hurricane.
We kept the battery-operated storm radio nearby in case of tornado warnings or any other imminent threat, but all in all, i
t was a pretty uneventful night. We finally got to sleep sometime after four.
When we woke around nine, the storm had passed, and the sun even popped through the clouds every now and then.
I tried to call the hotel to reach my bride, but I kept getting an ‘all circuits are busy’ warning. The wedding was scheduled for two in the afternoon, so I decided to go ahead and drive to the hotel a little before noon.
It was like driving through a war zone. Traffic lights were out. Power lines were down. Tree limbs littered the streets and debris was scattered everywhere. The highways and interstate were deserted, and I wondered if the curfew from last night had been extended.
When I reached the hotel, the front drive was almost unrecognizable. The huge stately palms had been stripped of their fronds, which lay like a carpet covering the road. The lush landscape looked, well, like a hurricane had torn through there. Plants and bushes were tossed every which way and everywhere I looked appeared disheveled and battered.
The buildings were intact, though, and the bell services manager who took my car at the valet stand assured me all guests were safe and sound inside.
My wedding party greeted me in the lobby as soon as I walked in. Katerina, the bride, rushed across the marble floor to embrace me.
“Tyler, you’re safe! Are you alright? I’ve been trying to call your phone but it won’t go through. Is your home safe?”
I nodded and assured her we were fine.
“Is the wedding on then? Are we okay?” Gottfried, the groom, asked.
“I think so,” I replied. “Let me check with the hotel and see what’s going on with the ceremony site.”
From the looks of the front hotel grounds, I had a pretty strong suspicion that the gardens in the back where we’d scheduled the ceremony might not be in any shape to host us. My suspicion was correct.
“We can’t even get there right now,” Mike, the catering manager, told me. “The little stone bridge that crosses over to the gardens from the hotel was knocked out by a fallen tree, and coming in from the other way is impossible due to debris across the walkway. We’ll have to move the event indoors.”
