OCR Text |
Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 19 she was my girlfriend, maybe Brandon ought to concentrate more on his wife and less on Michaela. The wedding was held at the bride's house in Bountiful; a big tacky tiptoe house on the hill with a backyard twice the size of ours. There were lilacs and forsythia in bloom all about, and a cobblestone path that followed a little stream along the back of the property. The path wandered under a wooden arch painted white that would be the sight of the happy union. The bride, forbidden the virgin's white, wore a peach-colored gown and a sallow blush. It would have been a silly occasion if not for the unspeakable. This was not a day to celebrate. It was tedious to my family; Sheila's was in mourning. Our families were not just strangers to each other, but amongst themselves as well. My cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents, came from four states to see Randal Bracketf s oldest son get married. Most of them didn't like Randal Brackett; they thought he was ornery, materialistic, fat, basically a bastard. They didn't know his oldest son-the last time most of them saw Brandon he was twelve. I spent a while introducing Michaela to my extended family. The general attitude was a reunion, a little annoying; but actually, I liked the attention. On the other side of the confetti-riddled No Man's Land that would join my brother in legal matrimony was Sheila's family. There were hordes of them, and they looked horrified. They all wore their Sunday school clothes. My family, except my parents, Brandon, and I, came in street clothes. The plan was to end with a reception line of all four parents, me, the bride and groom, and the bride's five siblings, two sisters-in- |