By: Linda Potts March 10th The countdown had begun. Pina had dropped the invitations into the mail slot this morning. Try as he might, Bruno Salvatore couldn't think of how to retrieve them before the news of their impending nuptials was out. During the bus ride from Davenport to Christie, it obsessed him. A sudden lurching stop jolted him from his thoughts. Instinctively, he pushed the heels of his boots into the floor to resist sliding from the slippery seat. His metal lunch box somersaulted and clanged noisily against the floor of the bus, and for a second, he was distracted by concern over the sandwich inside. His stubby fingers flipped the clasp of the box open and lifted the lid. He sighed. Double-wrapped, just like always. Mama never took chances. Not like Bruno. On April 17th, at exactly 2 p.m. at St. Mary of the Angels Catholic Church, he and Pina Martini, his girlfriend of just six months, were to be married, united in everlasting wedlock. It was no accident that "lock" was part of the word, as far as Bruno was concerned. Slowly shaking his head, Bruno thought about his best friend Johnny, the first in their circle to get married. He'd once been carefree and full of jokes. A good soccer game, a cold pitcher of beer and a few good buddies nearby were enough to make him happy. Once he married, though, all that changed. He joked much less, and gradually became one of those chronic worriers who complained about his wife's weight gain, and rising mortgage rates, and the price of diapers. No one saw Joe much anymore. In less than five weeks, Bruno would be joining Johnny's world. The reality hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. Talking without thinking again, he mumbled to himself. That's always been my problem. Tell 'em what they want to hear. Up until now, he'd always found a way to escape a relationship before there was talk of marriage. But the other girls weren't like Pina. "Geez, Pina, you're gonna make a great wife someday. If only he'd said "a great wife for someone else." "This cannoli is as light as air, and your kitchen floor, well, a guy could eat off of it." Just not me, he should have added. Next thing he knew, they were standing at the counter of the Jewellery Exchange, and Pina was trying on rings. People reminded him that he was thirty-five, and it was time he took the plunge. He listened to their words, nodded, and told himself they were right. March 31st Pina had things under control. There were lists of things to do and further lists deciding which lists took priority. She spent evenings scouring bridal salons with three giggling girlfriends who ranged in size from wee size four to a wide eighteen. Each night she'd call Bruno before bedtime and give him a progress report. "I picked the flowers today. Wait until you see them. They're to die for. And the price! Well, they know better now than to try to sell retail to me, Bruno." "Sounds great, Pina." "Don't forget, we have an appointment at six tomorrow with the people at La Speranza. Have to choose the menu, so we get to sample lots of things. Come hungry, eh?" Pina laughed. "Hey, no problem, Pina. You know me," Bruno's attempt at humour fell like a piece of overworked gnocchi. April 1st. The staircase to La Speranza Banquet Hall offered the perfect photo opportunity. "See, Bruno? I'm gonna look like a bonafide princess with my train hanging down these steps. And look back there - there's a door behind the stairway for your Nona to use." Good thing, he thought, because the climb up left him wheezing. Bruno nodded in acknowledgement. It was all he could manage. The owner of the banquet hall met them at the door and shook Bruno's hand vigourously in both his own. "Ah, so you're the fortunato man who's going to |
marry this delicate flower. Tell me, how'd you get so lucky, eh?" he joked while leading Bruno to a table heavily laden with samples from his menu.
Bruno's eyes scanned the feast laid out before him, and for once his stomach didn't respond in greed. Veal specialties, chicken dishes, antipasto trays, pastas of every description lay waiting for him. Tempting pastries and thick slices of rich cakes were arranged on a dessert table nearby. Pina's expertise came into play. She pronounced the veal scallopini a little salty, the minestrone needing a "touch more tomato," the lasagna layers perfectly wafer thin. Finally the menu was decided upon. Pina left complaining that she'd have to let the seams out of her wedding dress after all she'd eaten. "Don't worry Pina," Bruno said. "With all the runnin' around you've been doin', you might end up just skin and bones by the wedding." April 9th Bruno's brother Mike had left a message on his cell phone the night before. "Hey, bro. The appointment for our tuxedo rentals is at seven. Be there or be square, eh?" Bruno arrived to find his brother and two old school pals, Joe and Mario, standing in front of two tuxedoed mannequins and intently comparing the lapels of the jackets. They looked up in unison as he approached. "Hey, Bruno, just in time. We thought you were skippin' town or something." Mike joked. Bruno grunted in response, and Mike continued. "Wha'd'ya think of this one? Pretty sophisticated, eh? And Pina told us we should look for powder blue vests so we'll look sharp next to the bridesmaids." Joe and Mario nodded slowly, weighted by the magnitude of their choice. Within thirty minutes they'd selected tuxedoes and vests and been measured for alterations. Bruno crossed one more task from Pina's list, and the days before the wedding accelerated. April 16th. Bruno glanced at the small glowing statue of the Virgin Mary hanging above his bedroom door. Nona had given it to him when he made his First Communion, nearly thirty years ago. He hadn't looked at it much since then. In fact, there were nights when he'd come home from hot dates and been too embarrassed to face it. He wouldn't have that problem tonight. The guys had thrown him a bachelor party after work: just a quiet, friendly poker game in the backroom of Vesuvio's Ristorante. He was long past wanting the kind of stag he'd gone to in his twenties: the kind where there were eager-to-please strippers and the groom arrived at the church the next day looking ashen-faced and guilty. Yeah, that wasn't the right way to start a marriage. After all, he wasn't a kid anymore. He was thirty-five. It was the last thought in his head as he finally fell asleep. He was thirty-five. April 17th, 2 PM Bruno stood at the side altar in his blue-vested tuxedo. Occasionally, his hands reached up to re-adjust his bow tie, then returned stiffly and awkwardly to his sides. He swallowed the saliva that collected in his mouth until there was little left. His mouth grew dry, and he licked his lips. From the balcony at the back of the church, the organist began the first notes of a hymn Bruno recognized from other weddings over the years. He lifted his eyes away from the shiny, too tight shoes he had rented and turned towards the church entrance, where Pina and her unsmiling father stood waiting. She looked like a princess, just like she said she would. Bruno watched her approach, her eyes never leaving his face, her smile radiating happiness. He accepted the hand she offered, and deep inside him, he felt something begin to melt. "I love you," Pina whispered. An unfamiliar lump formed in Bruno's throat. "You look beautiful," he said, and he meant it. Then he grinned, remembering the taste of her cannoli. The countdown was over. |