A Wedding At Last (Part Two)
Things have been pretty topsy-turvy since The Wedding. Could not drag myself out of bed Sunday morning even though I had very little to drink the night before. Saturday had roared in like a lion only to end in the most desultory of hand waves exchanged from across the room with Mattie, and the rest of the California relatives, after being joined at the hip with them (and the rest of the wedding party) like a chain gang for the better part of eight hours. I was angry and yet had no one to be angry at. Sister-in-Law had clawed her way into the family the old fashioned way: by hard work and spiritual fortitude and deserved every bit of help we could offer.
And yet, I could not help feeling emotionally cheated. There was virtually no down time to just chill out with a chosen few favorite people. As the groom's brother I felt I had to be "on" at all times and to patiently parry all inquiries about my own marital status. Most mysterious of all, was the sudden disappearance of my cousin, Kelvin, and his wife, just as the festivities seemed to be winding down. After traveling over four hours from Washington D.C. to New York City and never so much as being tempted to register in a hotel for even one night's stay, the single person in the family I could usually count on for a laugh or a sympathetic ear, simply got up and left without saying, "Goodbye."
Southerners almost never just say, "Goodbye" Even as someone who was brought up in the north, I knew when "Down Home" to begin farewells about an hour before we actually intended to go; it's a demonstration of how reluctant we are to leave, no matter how much we may be dying to take off our shoes, unbutton our pants or let out a loud fart in the meantime.
To what did we owe this obvious act of passive aggression? I will probably never know because, as a southerner by training, I will never admit to being offended nor badly treated by someone else. Passive aggression works in both directions. Nevertheless, Kelvin's departure left me with a bad feeling for the rest of the evening and for much of the day after - even after receiving a perky text message from him reading, "Home!"
And yet, I could not help feeling emotionally cheated. There was virtually no down time to just chill out with a chosen few favorite people. As the groom's brother I felt I had to be "on" at all times and to patiently parry all inquiries about my own marital status. Most mysterious of all, was the sudden disappearance of my cousin, Kelvin, and his wife, just as the festivities seemed to be winding down. After traveling over four hours from Washington D.C. to New York City and never so much as being tempted to register in a hotel for even one night's stay, the single person in the family I could usually count on for a laugh or a sympathetic ear, simply got up and left without saying, "Goodbye."
Southerners almost never just say, "Goodbye" Even as someone who was brought up in the north, I knew when "Down Home" to begin farewells about an hour before we actually intended to go; it's a demonstration of how reluctant we are to leave, no matter how much we may be dying to take off our shoes, unbutton our pants or let out a loud fart in the meantime.
To what did we owe this obvious act of passive aggression? I will probably never know because, as a southerner by training, I will never admit to being offended nor badly treated by someone else. Passive aggression works in both directions. Nevertheless, Kelvin's departure left me with a bad feeling for the rest of the evening and for much of the day after - even after receiving a perky text message from him reading, "Home!"