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My Sisters Wedding 1/31/2020 1:05:04 PM
By Bob Liter, edited by Martie Liter Ogborn
"I'm surprised at you, Martie," Ginny said as she sat across from me in Monica’s Restaurant. I picked at my lettuce salad and thought of how I'd like to glutton on mashed potatoes and gravy, lots of fattening gravy."
"What?" I said as my mind returned to reality.
"You're jealous of your sister. Don't deny it."
I put my fork down. I'd born my husband two fine children. Why did I have to diet and ride that darned exercise bike? He was more interested in my sister's wedding than he was in me anyway.
I said, "Let’s have dessert. Something good! Of course it’ll be fattening. If it's good it's fattening."
Ginny, Virginia Baker, my best friend, stuffed the last bite of pasta in her mouth, chewed it thoroughly, and said, "You're ignoring the subject."
"And the subject is?"
"You're jealous of your sister."
"Why should I be jealous of Jeannie? I'm happy for her. She's getting married in a church with all the parents and relatives there. I got married at city hall with the license in my hand, no flowers. Why should I be jealous?"
"As I remember, you were a sunbeam that day you and Jerry married. You didn't say anything about wanting a fancy wedding then. Jerry was so handsome, so eager to marry you. You were the happiest girl in the world."
She was right. We were married while he was studying computer science at Illinois Central College, and I was a waitress. I didn’t care then about being married in a church with all the trimmings. I just wanted to be married.
Three days after having lunch with Ginny, I was with my sister, Jeannie, in The Wedding Boutique at Westgate Shopping Center. The wedding consultant, Agnes Williams, who had never been married, was trying for the third time in a week to convince Jeannie that a Princess dress was just right for her.
Jeannie, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed, said, "What do you think, Martie? You try it on so I can really see it."
"That's a good idea," Agnes said. "Jeannie can get a better picture that way."
Better picture? Jeannie had looked in a mirror at herself in the dress often enough to draw a picture!
My protests were ignored and finally, just to get the business over with, I went into the changing room and slipped into the dress. I had been feeling good for Jeannie, but now, as I stepped before them and turned like a model, jealousy returned.
I felt like crying. I was so ashamed because of my feelings.
"My God, Martie! You look gorgeous, just gorgeous," Jeannie said.
I suppose I blushed. My little sister saying I looked gorgeous. She's the one who looked gorgeous, always had. And for the last several weeks, ever since her wedding was announced, she'd taken on a special glow.
Agnes gazed at the dress, up and down, and circled around me.
"It's nearly perfect," she said. "Maybe I'll let it out just a bit at the waist."
"Don't be silly," I said. "Jeannie still has her girlish figure. You won't need to let it out."
"Oh, of course not," Agnes said. "I'm such a nut. When someone puts on a dress I just automatically start thinking of what alterations will be needed. Sorry."
She circled me again and looked at Jeannie.
"It's just perfect. Thanks for modeling it for me."
I said, "Hey, no problem. You still want me to wear my evening gown. The one I wore to Jerry's promotion dinner."
"Sure. Why spend money on another one? You'll look beautiful."
I felt left out as Jeannie and Agnes whispered while glancing my way. I heard Agnes say, "Don't worry about it. I'll send all the bills to him."
Poor Hank, Jeannie's fiancé. How was he going to pay for everything? Well, it was his and Jeannie's wedding. If they wanted to go into debt what business was it of mine?
The day of the wedding finally arrived. They insisted Jerry and I get there early.
"Don't worry about the boys. We'll get them there on time," my mother, Lillian, said. She and my dad, Bob, were always there for us when we need extra help with the kids.
She looked great, still slim with silver white hair cut short and dad was as dapper as ever. I hoped I looked that good when I reached their ages.
Our sons, already in their miniature tuxedos and matching the tux Jerry had on, looked older. It made me proud and sad at the same time. They were growing up so fast. Scott, the youngest, was to be the ring bearer. Rob, our oldest son and named after my dad, coached Scott on how to do it.
At the church I was ushered into a meeting room and the door was closed. Ginny and Jeannie were there. Jeannie, already in her wedding gown, walked back and forth.
Ginny said, "Martie, you've got to put this on one more time so I can get a picture of the two of you."
"You don't even have a camera," I said.
Jeannie, still pacing, said, "We've got to tell her. We can't wait any longer." She stopped in front of Ginny and said, "You tell her."
"No, this is family. You tell her."
I stamped my foot. "Tell me what?"
Jeannie took a deep breath, and said, "All right, if it will get you to change, I'll tell you."
She produced a duplicate of her wedding dress from a closet and told me to put it on.
"Jerry is paying for the weddings," she said.
"Jerry is WHAT!" I said.
"She said weddingS, Martie," Ginny Baker, my best friend next to my sister said, a smile on her faces as big as Texas. "So let’s get with it, change into your wedding dress, go out there, and smile while your wedding vows are repeated." Our dad, Bob Liter, was waiting to walk Jeannie and me down the aisle.
