Beauty Rising (27 page)

“Martin.”

I felt anything but nauseous. My blood pumped through my body like never before. For the first time I felt that I could match up to My Phuong in a physical manner. My fear subsided, though I trembled greatly.

“Mom, I gotta go.”

“Martin, don’t hang up on me. Mart-”

I hung up and went over to the bedroom door. I knocked and waited. She opened the door twirling her long black hair and cocking her head back and forth. She wore a new shirt.

“Yes, how may I help you?”

“Ah, I thought that maybe . . . I thought.”

“No, no, no. We need to take care of that sensitive stomach of yours. Plus, the show is back on. We still have to learn how to make lasagna. You’ll just have to wait until after the wedding.”

She walked over to the couch swinging her hips in such a cruel way as she walked. A good cruel. A wonderful cruel. I would wait for her.

“So what did your mother want? Did you thank her for the stains on my chest?”

“I don’t know. You made me hang up.”

“Good boy,” she pinched my cheeks and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Shhh, no more non-sense. We have to watch.”

I watched her the rest of the evening and could think of nothing else but her silhouette standing in her bedroom door frame. Cruel.

Mom tried calling me again on Thursday and Friday, but I just let it ring. I would make no overtures to her until after we were married. And then if she wanted to be part of our life, maybe we could try her out on a trial basis.

Late Friday afternoon I showed up at My Phuong’s apartment, and to my great surprise, my friend Derrick and George were there. They were sitting on my couch drinking My Phuong’s beer and laughing as I entered.

“There’s the man,” said George.

“One more day of freedom and then you have to hang out with this girl for the rest of your life.”

“What are you guys doing here?”

“They came to give you your bachelor party,” My Phuong said proudly.

“No, no. I don’t need a bachelor party.”

Derrick stood up and came over to me.

“The man who says he doesn’t need a bachelor party is exactly the kind of man who needs one.”

“That’s right,” said George. “There’s this great joint down in the ‘Burgh. The ladies will be hot all night long.”

“George, not in front of,” I used my head to point at My Phuong.

She laughed and came over to me.

“Martin, I want you to go and have a good time. Don’t worry about me. This is your last night of freedom. After that, I’m going to be the bitchy wife,” she laughed.

“No, I. . .”

“You can’t stay here anyways. I don’t want to see you anymore until I walk down the aisle tomorrow and see my handsome husband in his black suit standing in front of me. Now go.”

“My Phuong, don’t worry. We’ll take good care of him,” George said as he started pushing me out of the apartment.

“My Phuong . . .”

“Martin, it’s okay. You go and have fun.”

She came over to me and motioned for George and Derrick to leave. She then put her arms part way around me.

“Tomorrow night, we’ll have our own fun, and no stomach ailment will stop us. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “I love you.”

“I know,” she said.

We kissed.

“Now go.”

I didn’t want to leave her. I had never expected to have anything remotely close to a bachelor party, and something about it make me feel uneasy. I didn’t want to go see any girls or do anything crazy. I only wanted one girl.

“Martin, we are going to take you to Sparks down route 19. And yes, the sparks are going to fly. You are going to see some women, and . . .”

“No. Guys, I appreciate what you are doing. Really, I do, but I don’t want to go see any women. It just wouldn’t be right. I want to be faithful to My Phuong.”

They both looked at each other in disbelief.

“But,” Derrick tried to say something.

“I’m serious. I won’t go to anyplace like that. Can we just do something else?”

“Like what?” asked George who seemed rather disappointed.

I thought for a moment.

“Actually, I would like nothing better than to go bowling with you guys. One last bowling night as a single man.”

“You want tacos, don’t you?”

“You know it. I want a dozen tacos, and a six-pack of Cherry Coke.”

Derrick smiled.

“You are just too predictable. But it sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

We got into George’s Camaro and rode down to the lanes for one last crazy night of single-hood.

The Day

Saturday morning – my wedding day. The previous evening we had bowled and ate for about three hours and then came back to Derrick’s house to watch movies until early into the morning. I talked to My Phuong once in the evening on the phone and I told her that we didn’t go and look at girls. She thought I was sweet. Around nine, I woke up, ate breakfast and put on my black suit – the only one I had – the one I wore to dad’s funeral three years ago. It actually hung a little loose on me. I nervously walked around in the suit all morning counting down each and every minute. Earlier in the week, Derrick’s mother asked me if I wanted help choosing a boutonnière. After she explained what one was, I thanked her for her help and simply requested that it was red just like the Phuong flower. At eleven o’clock, she helped me attach the red boutonniere onto my lapel. At eleven-thirty, I got in the car with Derrick and drove over to the church. We met Reverend Fox in his office to wait out the final hour. I asked him about My Phuong, and he told me that Mrs. Presley was helping her get ready in the back room. I was grateful that she had someone to help her. I felt sorry that her family couldn’t have been here, and then I reminded myself that I too had no family coming. But it didn’t matter. Once we were married, we would have each other and that was enough.

At 12:30, Reverend Fox came back in the room carrying a large envelope.

“Martin, here is the marriage license. Can you sign it?”

He placed it on the edge of his desk and handed me a pen.

“Right here,” he pointed down to a dotted line.

Right underneath the line was My Phuong’s signature. I marveled at how the stroke of a pen changes everything. I signed my name Martin J. Kinney Jr. We were married. I was a thirty-nine year old married man – married to a beautiful Vietnamese woman, whom I loved more than life itself. I thought for a moment about what had brought me to this day. Dad’s story about Newbert and Johnson – the girl under the banana tree – the promise to dad –– the misunderstanding of the words Tay Nguyen – the wallet. It all purposed me to this point where I would never be the same. I stood on the brink of tears just looking at the signed marriage license.

“Martin, everything okay?” asked the Reverend.

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

“It’s time.”

I nodded. Derrick and I followed the Reverend out of his study to the front of the center aisle. I counted twenty one people in attendance, but my Mother was not among them. Mrs. Grassley started the wedding march on the organ and everyone stood to attention and focused on the back of the church. I finally saw her. She stood in the archway wearing a long, flowing white
ao dai.
There was no veil. Her hair was fixed up in a bun. She stood so dainty, so frail-like, as beautiful as an angel. She moved towards me slowly and her white
ao dai
flowed smoothly. I remembered how she disappeared as a vapor amongst the festival crowd in Thai Nguyen trying to escape me. But now she moved purposefully, with her eyes fixed upon me, trying to get to me. The walk seemed to take so long. I just wanted her beside me. I wanted the Reverend to pronounce us husband and wife. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to be mine forever and ever.

She reached the front and stood on my left. As Reverend Fox said a prayer of blessing, we just looked at each other. She smiled funny at me and softly touched her cheek to let me know that she recognized that I had shaved. It was the first time it was smooth in many years. Then she lipped something to me. Something she had never said before. I’m sure I read her lips correctly. She formed the words ‘I love you’. The Reverend finished his prayer and we turned towards him.

“We are gathered today to witness the marriage of Martin J. Kinney Jr. and My Phuong Nong in holy matrimony. A strange twist of events have occurred in their lives to bring them to the point of wanting to join together in marriage to become one as the Bible teaches. Perhaps fitting, this marriage more than anything is a symbol of a journey because two very different journeys have created the foundation on which this marriage is about to be made. Three years ago, many of us stood at this same spot and honored the passing of Martin’s father. He left Martin with one request, bury his ashes in Vietnam. Martin obeyed the will of his father, perhaps even against advice and his own better judgment, and stepped far out of his comfort zone to see that wish fulfilled. In doing so, he had a brief, chance encounter with the Vietnamese woman – My Phuong – standing before us today. My Phuong, as it turned out, had been on a journey of her own. Her family was persecuted for their faith for doing simple things like worshipping publicly – actions that we take far too much for granted here in America. She had to run away for safety. She survived an arduous trip to America and unfair treatment once she arrived. But from the day she showed up at Martin’s door, these two have exhibited love at its best. Love that doesn’t prejudge, love that understands, love that cares, love that is self-sacrificing, love that is relational. I am so pleased to stand here today and bring together two very special individuals who deserve each other and who deserve happiness.”

He looked and nodded over to Lola Meyers who stood beside Mrs. Grassely sitting at the piano. The piano started and then Lola began singing the Bee Gees’
How Deep is Your Love
– a special request of My Phuong from all her days singing Karaoke. I barely heard any of the song. I could only concentrate on that angelic face in front of me.

At the end of the song, Reverend Fox opened his Bible and turned to I Corinthians 13 and read the love chapter also specially requested from My Phuong.

“Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast . . . ”

I thought for sure everyone would envy me, and I wanted to boast to the world about my bride. She was so patient to tolerate me, and she was ever so kind.

After the Reverend finished reading the chapter, he asked us to turn and face each other and clasp hands together. We then repeated our vows, one at a time, gazing right into each other’s eyes.

“Martin, do you have a symbol of your love?”

“Yes, this ring.”

Derrick handed me the gold band, and I placed it on her left ring finger.

“And My Phuong, do you have a symbol of your love?”

“Yes, this ring.”

Lola walked over to My Phuong and handed her the ring and then placed it on my left ring finger.

“This ring is a symbol of eternal love with no ending and no beginning,” Reverend Fox continued.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few people in the congregation turning around and whispering about something. Then Reverend Fox stopped speaking and looked directly past us down the aisle. I turned my head to the left and saw her approaching – my mother. My Phuong dropped my hand which she held and turned around towards her as well. A slight buzz of commotion rippled through the small crowd and all eyes were fixed on my mother. She was dressed in a Sunday outfit and held her pocketbook under her right arm. She walked slowly towards us in a steady pace with her eyes fixed on me.