As she set up to braid Zola’s hair, Zena went on with her recall about the shooting stars, Adan’s kiss and him picking her up to carry her all the way to his villa. Zola listened to all of this. “Ya’ll are back in love,” Zola proclaimed. “Finally back in love.”
“Well, I don’t know all of that. I don’t know where this is going from here. If it’s going anywhere. I’m just happy we got it off our chests. It was cathartic.”
Zola laughed. “Right. You can say that to everyone else,” she said. “You can believe it if you want. Just know that’s not what Adan’s thinking.”
“What’s he thinking?”
“He’s already purchased a condo downtown—three blocks from you. And he’s moving to Atlanta as soon as we get back.”
“But that couldn’t have anything to do with me. He didn’t know how I’d react to him. If anything would happen between us,” Zena said.
“I don’t think he cared. I think he intended to keep trying. See, Adan thinks I’m slow. I know what this wedding thing was about. He was looking out for me, but he was also trying to win you back.”
When Zola got up to look at her braids in the mirror, Zena revealed that Adan admitted that the night before but added that she was sure Zola was his chief concern.
“Well, I guess we’d better get this show on the road, then,” Zola said. She left the mirror and reached for the garment bag containing Zena’s maid of honor dress hanging on a hook beside the bed. “I tried to get in here earlier so you could try this thing on. I hope it fits. We won’t have time for changes.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I think I’ve actually lost weight since Madame Lucille took my measurements at the shop,” Zena joked.
“Yeah. Right! You wish!” Zola winked and unzipped the bag, revealing a sleek bumblebee-yellow, single-shoulder satin robe with a thin cream waist bodice. The stylish dress was a mix of vintage chic and sophistication that immediately stole a smile from Zena.
Zena was up on her feet walking to the dress with her hands over her mouth to exemplify her awe and excitement. “This is for me? For me?”
Zola pulled the bag from the hook and let it fall to the floor, fully displaying her dress selection for her sister. “Yes.”
Zena didn’t know if she should hug Zola or go for the dress, so she did both. She took the dress from the wall and pulled Zola into an embrace. “I love it. I really love it.”
“I helped Madame Lucille design it. I wanted something really special for you.”
“But it’s too much. No? Like, it looks like something that could be for a bride.” Zena let Zola go and inspected the dress by holding the hanger out. “It’s just that beautiful.”
Zola was looking at Zena look at the dress. With pride, she said, “A beautiful dress for my beautiful sister.”
“Oh, thank you, Zollie.”
“Seriously. I really wanted to design something amazing for you. Something to show how special you are to me,” Zola explained. “This day isn’t just about me and Alton. It’s about you, too. About everything you’ve done for me—how you’ve been there for me. For us.”
“Of course, I’m there for you. You’re my baby sister,” Zena said.
“It’s more than that. You know it. You’ve been more than a sister. You’ve been a mother. A father. You’ve been there for me when I had no one. And you’ve believed in me,” Zola continued. “Last night, after the accident on the beach, that’s all I kept thinking about—you believe in me. Sometimes more than I’ve believed in myself. You see things in me that no one else can see. And I know for sure in my life that it has made all the difference.”
The dress fell over Zena’s skin as if she’d grown into it, as if it was a part of her.
Zola went to the bathroom to finish looking over her appearance. There was a soft knock at the door. Zena thought it was the housekeeper, so she quickly opened it up only to find Adan standing there in a tan linen suit. Somehow, Zena felt Adan shouldn’t be seeing her dress, so she covered her chest as if she was a bride and he was getting a peek.
“I’m sorry,” Adan said, covering his eyes.
“Wait! Wait!” Zena laughed, realizing her error. “I’m tripping. I’m not the bride. You can clearly look at my dress.” She laughed.
“Really?” Adan asked, still covering his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, silly.” Zena smiled at Adan’s playing. He looked handsome in his suit. Not too pretentious or formal. He was dapper but relaxed.
He lowered his hand and peeked at Zena. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get in trouble. You women and your wedding-day rules about people seeing your dress.”
“Well, it’s not my wedding day so you can see my dress.”
“Well, I was just coming over here before things get started to make sure you’re fine.”
“I’m fine,” Zena said. “Why wouldn’t I be? Shouldn’t I be?” She looked at Adan curiously, as if maybe he was seeing their evening exchange differently than she had. She hoped he hadn’t.
“I’m just wondering if you feel like I feel.” Adan grinned in a way that made him look fifteen years old again. Right then, Zena felt as if they were back in Georgia, back on their street, blushing at each other. “Look, I’m just excited.” Adan looked at Zena. “That’s the best way I can put it. I’m excited. I’m happy it happened. And, I guess, I came to say I hope you’re happy, too.”
Zena leaned into the door frame before Adan. “I am,” she admitted.
“Great.” Adan’s smile grew as he stepped back from the door to return to Alton. “I’m happy to hear that, because this is all I’ve wanted for a long time.”
* * *
The next knock at the door was Kadek, the villa manager. He arrived ready to escort the sisters to the front gate. Adan and Alton were waiting there to begin the short walk to the beach hut where the Balian Tenung would bless Alton and Zola before the wedding ceremony. He was carrying a huge parasol made of iridescent silks and gold piping. Curly sheer fabric dangled from each corner.
“You ready?” Zena asked, looking at Zola standing in front of the mirror, nervously adjusting the crown of wild shore flowers she’d collected to decorate the goddess braids Zena put in her hair. The rose-gold lace sheath Lisa had picked out for Zola at Lucille’s Lace was simple yet ethereal.
“Guess I have to be,” Zola said. “Let’s do this.”
Zola began to walk to the door, but Zena suddenly felt she needed to add some words, some weight to the moment before Zola went to say her vows.
“I didn’t come here with the best of intentions,” she said.
“What?”
“I thought I was coming here to stop you from marrying Alton. I thought I could use my relationship with you as leverage to keep you from saying, ‘I do.’ But now, with everything that’s happened, I know I was wrong. I know I was just holding you back from getting what you really want. And I know it’s just my job to make sure you get that.”
Zola responded, “You were just trying to have my back. I can’t be mad at you for that. I’m only happy you’re in my corner right now.”
The sisters hugged, and Zena gave Zola a big kiss on the cheek.
“I wish Mommy could see you in this dress,” Zena said. “I really wish she could’ve been here.”
“Me, too.”
Zola pulled Zena out the door, and the two floated under the colorful celebratory parasol toward the front gate.
When Zola spotted Alton and Adan standing there, she ran ahead of Zena and Kadek, kicking up her dress so all could see her gold gladiator sandals. She ran so fast it was as if she hadn’t seen Alton in days or weeks, months. Or maybe it was as if she’d never seen him before and had only known him in dreams and this was their first time laying eyes on one another.
And he ran towar
d her, also. Standing beside Adan in his matching tan linen suit with a blooming bright yellow allamanda in his lapel that matched Zena’s dress, Alton dropped his guitar and ran to meet Zola halfway on the path to the gate. He picked her up and held her in the air as if she was light as a flower petal.
Pretending to fly, Zola spread her arms out and hollered, “I love you, Alton Douglass!”
“Come on now. You two aren’t even married yet. Calm down with the drama!” Adan joked from behind Alton and Zola. He walked over to Zena and kissed her on the forehead before putting one arm around her shoulder.
“Thank you!” Zena jumped in. “Let’s save all the mushy stuff until after the legal stuff.”
Alton and Zola guffawed at the elder siblings’ comments and got in line to walk to the beach. Alton picked up his guitar and set out in the back of the crowd, playing a simple and sweet melody he’d played on many nights to lull Zola to sleep.
Kadek led the party, carrying the parasol in the front as they paraded through the small, rude and rocky streets of the country town that was busy with afternoon business. Lean-to shop owners and smiling locals came out to see the party pass. Some offered their blessings and others came out to tie ornate ribbons to Zena’s and Zola’s waists, a symbolic blessing of good luck and prosperity. Small children wanted to shake Zola’s hand. One woman stepped up for a picture with the bridal party. This part of the journey appeared foreign from any wedding celebration they’d ever seen, but it also felt natural and intimate. As if it was the way that love ought to be celebrated, in the community, without excessive flair, with much love beneath the sun.
When they entered the portion of the beach that led to the Balian Tenung’s hut, Kadek lowered the parasol and pointed to a small temple that had been meticulously decorated with flowers and sitting statues by the Tenung’s followers and visitors throughout the years. It looked like a whimsical beach cabin or fairy-tale hideout. Two burning torches demarked the entrance. A little closer to the shore, a wooden altar and gazebo was overrun with fresh-picked fragrant plumeria. The Catatan Sipil, civil registrar, Adan hired to officiate over Alton and Zola’s vows stood awaiting the occasion of the nuptials beneath the gazebo.
“Before marriage, you see Nyoman inside. He ready for you,” Kadek said, pointing to the hut. “You go together. He bless you. Good for marriage.”
Inside the hut, the foursome found a short, plump man with a bald head and few teeth sitting in the lotus position on a torn wool mat. Draped in white muslin, he smiled politely, said a few words to welcome them and gestured for them to sit before him.
For seconds or minutes, he glanced at their eyes, moving from one to the next, peeking wisely and knowingly at something that made each of them feel awkward but lucky to be in Nyoman’s presence. He didn’t look like a wise man, though, not like the stereotypical truth teller most Western visitors expected to see sitting in the hut. Nyoman appeared cheerful yet studied. He might be a schoolteacher or a chef—judging from his stomach—if he wasn’t sitting in that hut.
“You love—you all love each other,” he said finally. “You together. Always stay together. Always.”
He signaled for Adan and Zena to join hands.
“Oh, no, we’re not the ones getting married,” Zena said as softly as she could, so as not to disturb the quiet in the space. “They are.” She pointed to Zola and Alton sitting beside her.
Nyoman looked down at his lap and waited.
“You here for marry,” he said as the sounds and breeze of the rolling tide outside crashed into the doorway. He looked up at Adan and added, “You here for love her. You here for marry her.” He pointed to Zena.
The words were a secret spoken aloud. There was an uncomfortable chuckle from the foursome, with Zena leading. But Nyoman did not budge. He did not smile.
“Your heart is without cover,” he said then to Zena. “He cover your heart. He give heart to you safe.” He reached over and patted the ground before Zena’s and Adan’s locked hands. “You together. You love.”
“But—” Zena tried, but her desired interrogation was met with a firm eye from Nyoman. There would be no more questions.
He lifted his hand and turned to Alton with his guitar and Zola with her wildflowers in her hair. He smiled at them as if they were children frolicking in a meadow.
“Love of flower in garden,” he said to them. “Flower no open. Flower closed. No pluck. No time. Soon time. Soon time pluck flower.”
Zena looked over at Zola to see her stare at Nyoman, drinking in his words.
Alton wrapped his arm over Zola’s shoulders and kissed her cheek, but she never once looked away from Nyoman.
“Well, we’re about to pluck it right now, right outside,” Adan joked in an attempt to break the stare between Nyoman and Zola.
Nyoman smiled and then reached into one of the copper bowls of water and uncooked rice on the floor between them. He uttered foreign words and placed the water and rice on each person’s forehead with his thumb.
Kadek appeared in the doorway to escort them to the gazebo for the nuptials.
As the caravan rose to depart, Zena noticed Zola lingering in the back, still looking at Nyoman sitting there in the lotus position with a satisfied smile on his face.
She caught Zola’s arm. “Are you all right?” Zena asked.
“I’m fine.” Zola looked at Zena, and in Zola’s eyes, Zena found some state of serenity, of enlightenment.
The sisters clasped hands and sojourned up the twisting strip of sand heading toward the plumeria-draped gazebo, where the civil registrar presiding over the ceremony was standing beside Adan and Alton, who was strumming his song on the guitar to entice his bride down the aisle to him.
While the melody was the same, he’d changed the words for that special day:
Kiss me and I know your heart is pure.
Love me and I swear I’ll give you more.
You are my love, my breath to carry me away.
You are my life—my days will be the same.
Some of the villagers who’d followed the procession to the beach had formed a thin circle before the gazebo. They waved and threw fresh-picked flowers at Zola and Zena as they walked by.
As Zena escorted Zola, she looked ahead at Adan standing beside his little brother. He was smiling, but unlike everyone else, his eyes weren’t on the bride; he was watching Zena. He was staring at her. His gaze was so focused, in fact, that Zena looked away. She felt that if she’d kept her eyes on him, she might walk straight to him, forget where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, and stand by his side.
* * *
When the women reached the men, Zena kissed Zola on the cheek and stepped to the side.
The registrar, a little man with seesaw shoulders, began to read through his legal proceedings, nodding to Zola and Alton to be sure both understood his shaky English.
He paused and announced that the couple wanted to state their own vows.
Alton spoke first: “Zola, I don’t remember any part of my life without you. Or else, maybe, all the parts before you, were me trying to get to you. Trying to make you see me. And when you did, when you finally saw me, it was like my life began again. And I never want it to end. Zola, I vow to be your partner. I vow to be by your side. I vow to be in your corner. You don’t have to look for me. You don’t have to call my name. I vow to just be there.”
Zola wiped tears from Alton’s cheeks and then stood still so he could wipe hers.
The registrar turned to her.
The sea breeze took on an expectant howl as new seconds ticked past. There was waiting for something to happen, and then there was this—awkward lagging where there should have been words—words from Zola.
There was near-inaudible chatter from the onlookers. Zena smiled at them and nudged Zola in the back.
“Zola!” Zena nudged Zola again and called her name rather unceremoniously.
“Alton, I love you but—” Zola started, but then her voice cracked and she looked down at her feet.
Not knowing what was happening or what to do, Zena grabbed her elbow as if she was afraid Zola was about to topple over.
“It’s okay,” Alton said softly. “It’s really okay, Z. We don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“What? What’s okay?” Zena said, pulling Zola’s arm then. She looked past Alton at Adan for help, but he appeared just as confused as she felt.
“I can’t,” Zola whispered to her gold gladiator sandals, but her voice was clear and distinct enough for all around to hear the two condemning words one should never say at an altar.
“I know, baby. It’s fine,” Alton said, his voice supportive and encouraging.
Zola found some strength and looked up at Alton with more tears and different tears streaming down. Firmly, she said, “I can’t do this.”
The registrar had forgotten his provisional English and was speaking harsh words in his native Balinese.
“I understand,” Alton said as Adan leaned over to him to say something in his ear.
“No wedding?” the registrar said to Zola.
Before Zola could answer, Zena said over her to the registrar, “Yes, wedding! Yes!”
In a rush, she grabbed Zola’s hand and tugged her down the steps leading away from the gazebo to the beach.
With nowhere to go, she stopped maybe a quarter of a mile from Alton and Adan and with all eyes on her, she asked Zola what was going on.
“I can’t do it. I don’t want to get married right now,” Zola said. “You heard Nyoman. It’s not time.”
“Who cares what that old man said? It’s Alton. You love him,” Zola argued.
“I do love him and I do want to marry him, but I don’t think I want to do it now.”
Under the Bali Moon Page 14
