by Michael Lai
The first part
“Have you ever peeked at the final sentence of a book before you started reading it?” Her innocent brown eyes met mine as she popped the question ever so casually. Oh how I adore the way those eyes sparkle and light up her face, especially when she blurts out one of those questions that take you by surprise because of its complete irrelevance to her last statement.
“Why would you want to do that?” I replied, still reacting to this latest segue, trying not to forget where the conversation took a sudden left turn from.
“I don’t know, but isn’t it interesting that you can read just the last sentence of the book, only for the meaning to change completely once you have read the entire book?”
I can see that she wasn’t quite ready to let go of this thought without a considered response from me, and if I tried to sidestep it by asking another one in return, we’ll end up with an ouroboros of questions.
“Maybe that’s the point. The author doesn’t want you to skip right to the end. Instead it is the patient reader who gets through the whole book that gets the reward.” To be honest, it was really the best I could manage at the time, but she pondered my response and seemed satisfied for now. Sadly, I am not even sure that I have seen her read a book from cover to cover. One day she’ll be talking about insights from a Malcolm Gladwell book, and the next day it might be a surprising plot twist in a Banana Yoshimoto novel.
“Anyway, what were you talking about before?” And just like that, she has moved on before I even had the chance to offer a complete response.
“The word you are looking for is paraprosdokian,” I paused for effect. “It is a way to construct a piece of writing in a way that causes the reader or listener to reframe or reinterpret the first part.” Apparently I wasn’t quite prepared to let that question go so easily either, because there is a word for it, and I was not going to pass up on the chance to flaunt my intellect.
But she simply looked at me once more with those inquisitive brown eyes, and sensing that my defenses were about to be breached, relented and gave me a playful peck on the cheek.
“You know something Branca,” a peculiar thought popped into my head while I drifted into the sweet daydream of her display of affection, “I am going to be a marriage celebrant.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a feeling that one day I am going to have to marry you.”
“Well, you’re going to have to catch me first!” Her smile turned into an uncontrollable giggle, as she leapt up and ran off into the sunset, my footsteps trailing behind her flowing hair and flailing arms, so close to catching her but always just out of reach.
The second part
“Repeat after me,” I said as I turned to face the bride.
“I, Branca Gibbs, take you, Edson Chen, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death does us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.” And Branca duly obliged, repeating each phrase word for word and without any hesitation. Ladies first. Show courtesy, chivalry, concern for the female sex, can’t argue with that can I?
“And now your turn,” I said to the groom.
“I, Edson Chen, take you, Branca Gibbs, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death does us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.” Edson stumbled a little bit in a couple of places, which you tend to do even if the couples insisted on doing rehearsal (they didn’t). But there was no way anyone could have heard anything that he said, the volume of his voice soft as a whisper compared to mine (and I was miked up for the occasion). Not that anyone needed to hear anything to figure out what he was saying.
And then as per the script discussed with the couple, we proceeded with the ring ceremony (an entirely optional ritual, but thanks to De Beers we don’t ever question why anymore), and finally the obligatory kiss shared between the newlyweds.
Maybe you are thinking, what happened to the – “If anyone knows any reason why these two should not be joined in marriage, speak now (or forever hold your peace).”
Well, in civil ceremonies in Australia, the practice of putting this question to the congregation/guests has long been discontinued. Instead, this is something you have a duty of care to work out at the first interview with the couple intending to get married.
The final part
“Thank you for the lovely ceremony,” the father of the groom came up to me at the reception, “I am so happy that you are the celebrant for my daughter’s wedding.”
“Well, I did say to Branca that I had the feeling I would marry her one day, so I am glad I kept up my end of the bargain.” And I attempted my best smile and threw in a hug with Jerry, because I know that after his wife passed away, it was his top priority that his son Edson settled down and started a family of his own.
“Excuse me Matthew, can I have a word please?” Branca’s mother pulled me aside after my conversation with Jerry.
“Of course Mary, what can I do for you?”
“I always thought that you might have been the one in Edson’s place today. You know how she feels about you.” Do I? I thought to myself.
“I looked Branca in the eyes during the vows. She was content. That’s enough for me.” It was enough for Jerry, enough for Edson, enough for Mary and Paul, Branca’s father.
“But is it enough for her?”
“I don’t think I could have given her anymore, could I?”
Postscript
I remember the day when one of those out-of-the-blue questions popped into her head.
“That was a very sneaky thing you did that day, Matthew.”
“What on earth are you talking about?!” I was ambushed and confused as usual.
“Saying that you were going to marry me one day.”
“And just exactly what was sneaky about that?” It was of course a rhetorical question, since she had obviously figured it out.
“Well, if you were going to be a marriage celebrant, then you’d have to marry me one way or another wouldn’t you?” She gave me a little nudge on the side, but failing to catch my gaze, she laid her head on my shoulder instead.
“Not necessarily.”
It really was one of those thoughts that came from the spur of the moment, which was unusual for me. But I took a deep breath because I felt it was important to take the time.
“If I love you, it wouldn’t matter where I stand. If I didn’t love you, it wouldn’t matter where I stood either.” I turned around and looked into those innocent brown eyes.
Michael is a sporadic creator (who doesn’t write a lot these days). The SOUL (Science, Origami, Ux Design, Linguistics) of his existence can be found in the intersection of art and science, and at his LinkTree.
Isonomia Quarterly 