You have a genetic disposition to melancholy, his new otherworldly partner informed him. I will adjust your blood chemistry to mitigate this.
Holy shit! Bruce thought and knocked the rest of his beer back in a single gulp and waved the empty bottle at a waitress for a refill. He missed the way the Clarks collectively raised their eyebrows and looked at each other significantly.
“Yeah, hopefully they won’t get out of hand. Despite what it looks like, there are a couple of guys in charge and some of their girlfriends don’t take any shit!” The eyebrows rose even further as Bruce almost finished half the new beer in a single gulp. He was suddenly thirsty. It did not matter what liquid he held in his hand, he just needed to drink lots of it.
He looked at the almost empty bottle and caught the look on the Rufus’s face. “Don’t worry Rufus, I’m on my very best behaviour,” he said with a grin. “One more beer then your daughter is in charge.” Oops, thought Bruce, I forgot Rufus hasn’t got a sense of humour.
Bruce sat there in the awkward silence that followed and finished off the second beer.
“You had better be, son,” Rufus replied seriously after a moment.
Bruce gulped and glanced at his father-in-law shamefacedly. He felt the old boy’s eyes boring into him, as if he had somehow divined what was on his mind. Which was mostly around how to extricate himself from his relationship with Rufus’s daughter in the most painless way possible. It was now a foregone conclusion and just a matter of when; as far as he was concerned their relationship was now beyond salvage. What would the old boy make of that? He would be fulfilling all of Rufus’s prejudices.
“Yeah, I was only pulling your leg,” Bruce replied half-heartedly. “Is there anything I can get you?” he asked. “Something to drink, some snacks?” As he stood, he realised he had also better check on his mother sitting alone at the next table otherwise she would start to nag about being left out.
“No,” Rufus replied for the whole table. “We are fine, thank you,” he added rather stiffly.
Bruce thought he was overdoing it really and decided he had had enough of the prickly old coot. At the very least, he could loosen up for the sake of his daughter.
“Are you OK, Mum?” Bruce asked a few moments later, standing behind her chair.
“Who is that nice young lady over there?” His mother pointed in the direction of Shelly Shaw and Wisneski.
“Oh, that’s a guy I met on my way here, more a friend of a friend, really,” Bruce replied evasively.
“No, who is the woman?” In Mavis Harwood’s mind, Shelly Shaw embodied the kind of womanly profile she had always had in mind for her son.
“His wife.” Bruce hoped that would shut her up for a while. “Why don’t you go and sit with the Clarks until it’s time to sit at the top table, Mum?” he suggested, slurring a little now. He tried to count the beers he had had since leaving the church, without a whole lot of success. He suspected he had already exceeded his self-imposed limit.
One more and he would put a lid on it and drink water, he told himself. He had to set an example and keep relatively sober.
But the next thing he knew he was sitting at the top table trying to get his bearings. He didn’t feel all that pissed really, but he couldn’t clearly recall the events of the last little while. He looked for his watch and then remembered he had stopped wearing one and pulled out his mobile to check the time instead. He found he’d been at the reception for a couple of hours and during that time his bottle of beer had morphed into a glass of wine. How did that happen? he wondered, as he had no head for wine.
Holy fuck, he thought. Slow down or you will be in trouble.
He already was, by the looks of it. The Clarks were sitting uncomfortably to his right beyond Sue, while to his left his father looked as comfortable as his wife looked uncomfortable. He was clearly a bit tight.
Sue was looking at him with a bemused look in her eye, and Bruce decided she might be a little drunk herself, which was unusual. At least she wasn’t on his case about his drinking, unless she had just given up trying.
He tried to focus on what he had been doing or saying. His mind was whirl of images and fragmented, sometimes intense discussions. None of which now made any sense to him at all. He started to stand and say something, whatever came into his mind. However, a firm hand pushed him back into his seat and a voice began to speak, to call out above the loud and exuberant chatter in the room.
“OK, you lot,” the voice paused. “Oi!” Still the chatter continued unabated. Then there was a piercing whistle as Trev tried to get everyone’s attention and start his duties as best man and MC. “Get in behind!”
“OK, people. I have had some pretty clear instructions from the man seated at my right to make this short and sweet because he is hungry and has other places to be. With the woman seated to his right, I might add,” Trev sniggered and leered at Sue. “Who gave me a set of conflicting instructions,” he added to general hilarity.
“As none of us are sure who wears the pants in this relationship I have decided to do what I think is best and follow Bruce’s instructions. Besides, I hear the Harwoods are paying for this lot and given everything we know about them, we all need to make the most of it as they are notoriously tight.”
Cyril tried to laugh as he sipped his beer and ended up making a raucous snorting noise instead that got an even bigger laugh than Trev had managed yet. Except for Rufus Clark of course. Luckily for Trev, he was out of Rufus’s reach. Everyone else seemed to think Trev’s speech was quite a hoot judging from the way the crowd in front of him laughed and yahooed and yelled for more.
Bruce looked up at Trev and realised Trev was one of the only sober people in the room and was taking his duties seriously, which hadn’t been the case the night before at his stag do, when he had led Bruce astray in the hotel bar. He gazed about the room, caught sight of old Mrs Pratt and baby Bruce and then fixed his gaze across the room where Shelly Shaw and Wisneski sat at a table with some of the boys from the rugby club. Trev droned on, reading off his phone some of the emails which had arrived and messages on the Facebook page Sue had created for the wedding.
“Here’s a good one from Bruce’s cousin Roy. Hi Bruce, Nana always used to think you were gay; pleased to see you have finally proved you’re bisexual at least!” The room erupted into laughter, and Bruce covered his momentary embarrassment with a healthy slug of wine.
“OK, that’s enough of me for the moment. This is the programme for the next hour or so. In a moment some lovely young ladies will be coming to take your dinner orders while we finish the speeches. Then once dinner is finished we’ll clear the tables out of the way and you can all boogie the night away.”
Bruce groaned inwardly. It was going to be a long night, and all he really wanted to do was get out of there. Miraculously his wine glass was empty, and a waitress was taking it away and replacing it with a full one.
“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to sound like he meant it.
“OK,” continued Trev. “First we have the father of the bride, Rufus Clark, to say a few words, followed by the one and only Cyril Harwood, who we all know can talk the hind leg off a cattle beast when he gets going, and then the man of the moment can say his piece. Hopefully he’ll listen to his own advice for once. As everyone knows, not only are the Harwoods tight arses, they can’t stop talking once they have a few beers in them.”
“And then we can get on the piss,” a voice called from one of the tables at the back of the room.
“Shut up, Roger, ya dickhead!” someone else called.
Bruce recognised both the voices from years past.
He glanced across at Rufus Clark who was nervously peering at some notes he held in his hand. He felt sorry for the old boy at that moment as he would never before have had to face an unruly boisterous mob like the one confronting him now. There would not be a person in the room who meant him any malice. But Rufus wouldn’t know that. All he would be able to think about here was a
black man in front of a sea of white and brown faces from a small country he had not even heard of until met Bruce. He wouldn’t know what to make of them.
Bruce stood and discovered he was a little unsteady on his pins. But he was steady enough to reach out to pat the old boy on the shoulders to give him a bit of encouragement.
Rufus smiled at Bruce for first time since they had met. This made Bruce feel all warm and fuzzy inside which pleased him no end as he felt he must have made some progress getting into Rufus’s good books.
“Thanks, Bruce,” Rufus began. “I’ll take on board Trev’s instructions and keep things short and sweet. But I did want to tell everyone here what an impressive guy I think Bruce is, and what wonderful parents he has.” Rufus paused for a moment and Bruce cringed inwardly; he was not used to getting praised much in his life and this wasn’t what he had expected from Rufus. He had expected another long sermon full of fire and brimstone.
“You don’t know him like we do!” a drunken voice slurred.
“Be that as it may,” Rufus continued in a dignified tone, “after some initial misgivings, I have warmed to Bruce. He has managed to make Sue happy, he has managed to satisfy her emotionally in a way nobody else has managed to do so far, which is something for all our family to be grateful for. I suspect that was no easy task, knowing how headstrong I know my daughter to be.”
Bruce was literally squirming in his seat guiltily now; if only Rufus could read his mind. Sue stirred beside him, he suspected for quite a different reason.
“And as you can see we are quite different people. Our families are almost from different worlds. But Bruce and his family have opened our minds as they unreservedly opened their arms and hearts to us.”
Shit, he’s laying it on a bit thick, Bruce thought.
“So without further ado I would like to thank Bruce for making my daughter happy and welcome him to our family.” Rufus reached out his hand to shake Bruce’s again and drew him forward, so their heads were almost touching, and spoke into his ear. “And if you ever hurt her you are a dead man,” he whispered. Bruce gulped ashamedly and sat down.
“OK, you guys …” Cyril Harwood, as Trev had indicated, needed no invitation to get up and talk in public once he had a few beers in him. “Thanks for the kind words, Rufus,” he said, waving a beer bottle in his direction. “And thanks for making us so welcome here.” He paused for a moment to take another swig from the bottle.
“Bruce, as you all know by now, is quite a complicated fellow and quite intense in many ways. Hard to get to know, difficult to work out what makes him tick. I should know, I have known him for all of his thirty-odd years and I still don’t know what really goes on in that mind of his.” Cyril paused while the laughter died down. “But we are both, Mavis and I that is, both very proud of our son. He has always been very industrious and worked hard to get into a position where he can take over the farm when he gets back home after his honeymoon, and as you know I drive a hard bargain so he isn’t getting the place cheap.” Cyril paused for a moment.
“Actually, I think the Clarks are taking quite a big risk by letting him into their family, and Sue herself has got to be commended for taking on the challenge, I must say.” He patted Sue on the shoulder then decided to give her a big sloppy kiss for good measure.
Bruce looked at his father and realised the old coot was pissed. More pissed than he had ever seen him in his whole life.
“So thanks to Sue once again for taking him on, and her family for making us welcome in the time we have been here,” he continued. “Thanks especially to Sue,” he repeated. “And welcome to our family and the wider community we live in, many members of which are here tonight helping us to celebrate this occasion.” Cyril finished his drink and looked around hopefully for another, ignoring his wife who was signalling to the waitress hovering close to the table with a beer for him to go away.
“And lastly I would also like to thank all of you who have come from near and far to celebrate the wedding of this wonderful couple. So once again welcome to our family, Sue, and welcome to your parents, Rufus and Shirley, and the rest of your family, and we hope to see you all at our place soon.” Cyril finally succumbed to the frantic tugs on his coattail by his wife and sat down abruptly, realising he had repeated himself and could think of nothing else to say.
“Good on ya, Cyril, you old coot,” a voice called as the room erupted with applause.
“OK, now I’ll ask Bruce to say a few words, and I mean a few words, Bruce!” Trev ordered once the laughter had died down.
Bruce struggled back to his feet and tried to compose himself. He felt his eyes go moist and suddenly felt quite emotional about the whole event. Which was odd considering he felt he was really only getting married to please Sue and her parents and was already contemplating a quick divorce.
It was not that he thought getting married was going to change anything about how he felt and thought about Sue or anything else. To him it was just a piece of paper, an outmoded convention. But he knew the sanctity of marriage, their names on the dotted line and, more importantly, the celebration of their marriage in a house of God, before God, was really important to Sue, and even more important to her father. Even if they’d had to find a minister from a new church to officiate at the ceremony after Rufus burned his bridges with his old one after he was told there was no way his daughter’s marriage could ever be right in the eyes of God, since their son had been born out of wedlock. Bruce had thought that was reason enough they should just get a celebrant but he was wise enough not to say anything and had let Sue and her family, and in the final days his mother, get on and do whatever they thought they had to.
Bruce had written a whole lot of notes on his mobile that he just discovered he had misplaced in all the excitement. He thought he had put it on the table in front of him but it seemed to have strayed. Then he saw it on the floor under his seat. He thought about bending over and picking it up but he wasn’t sure he could without falling over, so he decided to carry on without it. Hopefully, he could wing it without getting into too much trouble.
I could get the notes for you the MPU said.
Now that was a scary thought which made Bruce pause. He was silent for long enough for someone to call, “Cat got your tongue, Bruce?” which caused a ripple of laughter to course around the room.
“Nah, you know me, I’m like my old man. I have plenty to say when the moment’s right.” He hesitated again for a moment as he tried to understand what it really meant if the MPU could get the notes. Could he trust this entity that had somehow infiltrated his mind with what he assumed were good intentions that had something to do with destroying the asteroid heading towards Earth. To cover his confusion, he had another sip at his glass of wine and, like his father before him, found the glass was empty.
“Well first I’d like to thank you all for coming, especially you guys from home. It was a pleasant surprise to find you all here this afternoon, but I would appreciate it if you don’t try and drink the place dry tonight,” he began. “We are pretty tight, as you know, and we have to pay for this lot in US dollars,” he added, drawing a big laugh from the crowd.
Bruce turned to the Clark family arranged to his right and, smiling at them, reached out for Sue’s hand. “And of course thanks also to my new parents-in-law for having such a wonderful daughter. I’d just like to reiterate what my old man has just said: we’d like to see you down our way soon. I would also like to thank you once again for welcoming me so unreservedly into the family.” Bruce had initially thought they would never accept him but it was the right comment to make at that moment. Well, to be fair, Rufus was pretty difficult to deal with, but the rest of the family had accepted him quite readily after getting over the shock Sue had had a baby out of wedlock with some rough-looking white dude. It was only once the wedding was official that Rufus had even begun to speak to Bruce, bar a few strained pleasantries, and he had only truly thawed when Bruce’s parents had arrived in the country.<
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Bruce turned to his own parents and said the only thing that came to his mind. “At least I have proved to Nana once and for all I’m not gay!” The room erupted with laughter and while his mother scowled as he patted his pockets, still looking for his mobile, most everyone in the room thought it was a great joke.
“But,” he began seriously, “we have a few challenges ahead of us, but I’m sure we will pull through OK.” Bruce knew he should not go down that track any further. A few people exchanged quizzical looks. What the hell was he on about now? But most had had too much to drink to really notice anything might be amiss.
Bruce hesitated. As the seconds drew out, even those in the audience who’d had too much to drink were staring at him, wondering what was going on. He was known not only for being intense but in his younger days he could throw a good tantrum at the drop of his hat as well. “But don’t let that stop you from having a good time tonight,” he added awkwardly.
“OK, people!” Trev said, coming to his rescue. “We don’t want to be embarrassed by watching Bruce cry into his glass so charge yours and let’s make a toast to the bride and groom.”
“Hip, hip, hurray to the bride and groom.”
Bruce grabbed Sue and dragged her to her feet and raised his glass.
“Hip, hip, hooray!” Just about everyone in the room roared. “Three more cheers for Mr and Mrs Harwood!”
“Hip, hip, hooray!”
“Cheers!” Bruce called out.
And that was that.
The food came out and the waiting staff wandered around with more drinks, and he and Sue were forgotten as the drinks flowed and everyone pretty much forgot what they were there for, except of course to have a good time.
“OK, luv?” he asked Sue.
“Yes.” Sue nodded and reached across him to pat her father on the back.
“You OK, Dad, Mum?” she asked.
Bruce continued drinking, his self-inflicted limit long exceeded, feeling more and more morose and truculent as the night wore on, and more certain he had made a huge mistake, imagining his marriage was like an out-of-control juggernaut. Once it was in motion he felt momentarily powerless to put an end to it. Then there was the realisation that whatever was in his head could read his thoughts.
The Lifeboat Page 6
