Ruin Your Sister’s Wedding With 3 Simples Sentences Part II

As I walked toward the back of the church my emotions were mixed. For one, I realize that I just chastised a grown man in his own church and I also realized that this incident could potentially harden my heart even more towards pastors.

My thoughts are interrupted by my older cousins rushing up to me. It takes me a few moments to register who they are.

“Girl, who is coordinating this wedding?” they want to know.

“The wedding coordinator.”

“Well, she’s doing a bad job. She must have never had a real wedding before because she doesn’t know what she is doing. I’m so mad I know I need to go help the photographer pose her for pictures!”

They rush off to give the photographer guidance and I sit down to meditate on what I had just done. When I look up the pastor is walking over to my sister and her husband and he is giving them both hugs and laughing with them.

Oh..He betta act right.

Because the reception was rained out, an announcement is made that we will all adjourn to the fellowship hall. More than half the guests have left by now and others are saying their goodbyes.

Some lady grabs me and I am ushered into one of the back rooms of the church along with my sister and her husband. Then a door is opened and we are pushed inside a tiny room. I peek in and see- the pastor.

~raises eyebrow~

We have to sign the marriage certificate as witnesses. He still doesn’t smile or even look at any of us. I sign. Then the best man signs. Then after an uncomfortable silence we all leave. My sister is shooting daggers with her eyes and I keep looking away.

We wait outside of the fellowship hall until they announce us and we all walk in. There are no decorations and no tables. My sister is laughing and laughing.

“As hard as I tried to make this wedding nice, it still turned out ghetto,” she laughed. “Oh well. I can’t believe I spent so much money for this and nothing turned out right.”

“We’ll still have fun,” I told her.

“I’m mad at you,” my sister tells me. “I told you not to say anything to him.”

“But he was tryin you!” I pleaded for her forgiveness.

“So!” she shook her head. “Now when you write about this I have the perfect title: Ruin your sister’s wedding with 3 simple sentences!”

We both laugh and she gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

We were served dinner. A few speeches were made and the bride threw the bouquet to a mob of crunk women wearing no shoes.

I sat down and laughed. His family is funny. I enjoyed meeting them.

Her boyfri…er..HUSBAND walks over to me and says, “I’m your BROTHER now!”

I take two steps back. “No you ain’t.”

“Yes I am! Brother-in-law.”

My mind hasn’t processed the relation yet so I stand confused before someone taps me on the shoulder to talk to me.

After the dinner and the cutting of the cake, I packed up my bags and a few of the gifts and headed home to change. My little sister and her HUSBAND followed me and we spent the next hour opening gifts and recording them.

It was now time for the afterparty at my Mama’s house.

I threw on a t-shirt and some jeans and flew over there because I know it was about to be on. Liquor bottles were everywhere. Cousins were plentiful and the old time music was blasting from the computer. LOL! My Mama loves her itunes.

Everyone sat around talking about the wedding and a tall drink of water walked over to me and gave me a hug. Damn bruh… Who are you?

“I’m your cousin. I’m Charlie’s son. I’m from New Jersey.”

“My cousin? Are you a Patterson too?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad.” I chuckle.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Welcome to Miami.”

My Mama and I commence to getting our drank on! We were both dancing for everyone in the den of her house. Gettin LOOOSE!!!!!

Shakin it! Workin it! Poppin it! Shakin that thang!

I go outside to hang with my little brother and other cousins. It’s so good to see my brother. He’s a really nice guy. He takes good care of his family and of every man I know, he knows how to deal with my difficult personality. I miss him so much but I don’t want him to move back down here because sometimes I think Miami is a trap for black men. Limited opportunities to do right and unlimited opportunities to be a ghetto superstar.

When my Mama reminds me to stop drinking because I have to drive home I lean in close and whisper, “I have a ride home Mama.”

“Who?”

“My friend.”

She looks at me and I laugh.

When Dude arrives to drive my tipsy behind home she follows me out the door and introduces herself to him. I roll my eyes. Oh Lord, I never mentioned him to her before but I know that she’s gonna bring him up again.

“You’re drunk,” he says to me as he pulls away from my Mama’s house.

“Sure am. Let’s go.”

**Sorry. No camera. No pics to share.