When I reached outside of the ceremony room, there was a small group of people there but I just wasn’t seeing them at all. It’s very hard to explain it, it was like I was in a bubble and my heart was pounding so hard. Finally, my inebriated sister and brother-in-law ambled over and we stood outside the room, waiting for the cue to enter.
“Okay, go in,” said Peter, our saviour emcee and then he disappeared into the room. I don’t know why but somehow, that remark didn’t register in our brains and we stood there stupidly, waiting for the sign that had already came. According to poor Mr Thick, he stood at the end of the aisle as the piano refrain from Five for Fighting’s 100 Years played for four times, wondering where the hell his wife was.
“Eh, go in!” It was Peter, who had appeared again. I took a huge breath, linked arms with the Sista and A, and walked in.
The crowd was huge and my breath almost stopped. Okay, given that I was 30 minutes late, it wasn’t that unbelievable, but still, that moment was mine to savour.
Except to my right, my sister was almost dashing forward to my very handsome husband-to-be, and to my left, my brother-in-law suddenly let rip a loud and hysterical guffaw and I thought, What the hell is going on? It certainly wasn’t your typical stately and elegant walk down the aisle as the Sista half-dragged me while I looked on to the still-guffawing A in bewilderment.
At least, we got to the my husband-to-be. He looked mightily relieved and to be honest, so was I. We held hands and moved behind the table to take our seats. One thing that I am grateful for was that my uncle, as our justice of peace, had shifted the seats around, such that the two of us were facing the room while his back faced the audience. While most seating arrangements saw the audience staring at the backs of the couple, this new arrangement allowed everyone to look at us clearly as the ceremony was taking place.
As Mr Thick said his “I will” and “I do”, my eyes misted over and I almost cried. Surprisingly, I managed to curb the waterworks by taking a deep breath and telling myself that I cannot cry now. My mascara would run and I would terrible! That worked, almost instantly. Ah, vanity.
We reached the point where we had to exchange our rings and he said his vows without a hitch. As I slipped his ring over his finger, I started saying my vows. Except, it wasn’t complete. It sounded like this,
…To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish ’till death do us part…
Gah! I continued saying my vows as calmly as possible, hoping against hope that nobody noticed. Not a chance. As we sat there as our parents signed the certificate. Mr Thick whispered, “Did you miss out the for richer part?” I giggled and nodded, and we sat there shaking with mirth.
But the hilarity wasn’t over. We signed the certificate and it was time for the husband to unveil me and give me the first kiss of our married lives. But we were thwarted by…my mother! Even before I had put down the pen, my mother was ushering us and going, “Take family picture now! Quick, family picture! And remember to give the red packet to your uncle!” We dutifully took that picture, with me still wearing that veil, and then wondered how we were going to get to that kiss afterall.
His eldest brother, Steven, saved us from the blushes. “Kiss the bride!” he shouted and we duly obliged. Mr Thick flipped up my veil very coolly this time, having had his practice this morning, and we stared at each other for a second.