The morning finally arrived, "The" morning, so far as Cynthia was concerned, the one she had waited through all past eternity for.
A great deal of activity... in Protopopescu Str. No 9. Not allowed to see bride.. people rushing in every direction.. not quite Harrods on a Friday evening.
My sister, a couple of Cynthia's children, myself, bundled in a Taxi to the Church.. still snowing.
Commotion at the church.. Evidently was or had been a funeral in progress.. A great deal of shouting and consternation ..definitely the bride to be allowed no where near .. had to wait when she finally did arrive with her entourage, wait a hundred yards away, outside the gates.. in the soft snow... while the dead were, to the accompaniment of loud claxons and wailing, slowly carted off.
Noticed a huge Pink monster slowly come to a halt beyond the distant gates. At first thinking an advertising hoard on wheels.. Then realised it was "The Tram" such a splendid thing, a resurrection, complete with Balloons and "Just Married".. in English.. fluttering all over it.
No further time, a crowd slowly walking down the long path towards the Church, Cynthia in full flowing bridal dress, not her Grandmothers this time, flanked by her sister and a young boy, each carrying the most enormous candle I had ever seen, the candles wreathed in bright flowers.. For a moment wondered if in the right department. Bernie's wedding in Northern Thailand had not been anything like .. such splendour, surely, could not have anything to do with me.. Cynthia looked so different.
From no where I had hit the front.. everyone pushing me forward whispering the S.P.. to approach Cynthia and kiss her...such a crush ..so many people...
Obviously, on my travels had slipped, fallen into another time, another dimension, unlike anything ever previously known.
Could never visualise my kissing any woman in public.. or at all.. Here in this surrealism.. Fallen into a white Hole, a dream, a white dream, everything a flowing white. Could see my sister ..smiling, a face amongst all the other white faces.. Slowly pushed inside the dark Church, an atmosphere like those I had the temerity to visit on previous occasions. in my other life... a candle lit, incense laden, heaviness.. Carmen.. Naples, the tiny, silent, deserted Church, hidden in the crevices of Capri.. not the stiff formalism attached to the English version of Christianity.
A choir, somewhere singing as if their lives depended upon it.
The priest, Father, whatever, obviously enjoying himself in his Golden robes, placed a crown upon Cynthia's head and mine.. quite definitely asleep.. nevertheless, after a hour of Kissing Cynthia, kissing the walls, kissing the books, Crossing myself, drinking wine from the proffered cup.. really wanted to go home, to my Yellow room with the Green tendrils entwined about me, could see Doris reading my thoughts.. her face agitated.
Had not the power to walk away from that situation, so remote, so unreal...
So far from Hackney.
# # # # # # # # # # # # #
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu