Good Greek Girls Don't (41 page)

‘Nothing wrong,
agapi mou
. You look perfect. So perfect.'

Phew. I've really got to stop jumping to the wrong conclusions.

‘Despina.'

‘Yes, Dad.'

‘You look like angel from heaven.'

As I live and breathe – a compliment from my Dad! Who would have thought that all it would take was a little thing like a wedding. I possibly would have considered this a lot sooner had I known the effect it would have on my parents.

I don't know what to say anymore. All I know is if I try to open my mouth I will start crying and ruin my make-up. It's too late to do it again and if I let my aunts get their paws on me, I'd end up looking at home with the transvestites at Kings Cross.

I can't believe I won't be coming home here tonight. This isn't home anymore. I have a new home with Chris. All my non-Greek friends have had so much fun at my expense about the fact that I still lived at home despite owning an investment property. I used to say that good Greek kids left home married or dead and I made it sound like a death sentence. But, my God, I wouldn't change a thing now. This is how it's meant to be.

‘It's cool, Des. We're all sweet to go now.'

When and why was it not ever sweet to go?

‘Chris's limo broke down and they had to wait for a jump start. That was the other driver telling me we can head to the church now. They've arrived.'

A flat battery, today of all days? Don't they check things like this? This is my mother's fault. I should have listened to the voices in my head and not my mother
. 
‘Your uncle have godson. He have limousine business. He
good boy, give good price.'
Good price my arse. If that imbecile made Chris help him with the car and messed his suit up, I'll kill him. Plain and simple.

Oh, thank God. He's in one piece, all spick and span, waiting for me at the end of the aisle. This is it! I'm about to get married! My Dad is walking me down the aisle and it feels so right. Chris has the biggest grin on his face –he's giving the Cheshire Cat a run for his money. I so must have done something right in a previous life.
Thank
you, God. Thank you for giving me this perfect moment. How 
did I ever get so lucky?
I'm getting closer. Almost there. The church is silent, apart from the cheerful sobbing of both our mothers. There's no ‘walking down the aisle' music in a Greek Orthodox church. Only silence. But the silence is strangely romantic, like the calm before the storm.

We're ready. The priest has started. I understand the words the priest is saying. All those years of Sunday school my mother forced me to attend are finally paying off. But all I can think about is how wonderful it is to have Chris standing by my side and God, via the priest, making it permanent. Forever. I can't believe I spent so many years afraid of this. There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

It's time. Evan has to crown us now. The rings are in place. The priest crosses the rings three times before placing them on our fingers and at that point, in the eyes of the church, Chris and I are considered betrothed. The crowns are what make us husband and wife. Evan has to cross them three times before he places them on our heads. The crowns are joined by a satin ribbon which intertwines every time Evan crosses them. He better not get stage fright and drop them otherwise I will have to investigate cruel and unusual forms of torture. Oh, relief, he did it. The crowns are firmly in their place. They're not going anywhere until the priest gently removes them at the end of the ceremony. We're husband and wife now! There is still more to go of the ceremony, but the main bit is done. In the eyes of God we're married. I am standing beside my
husband
. What a spin.

Now for the hard bit. I don't think the ancient leaders of the Greek Orthodox Church had a great deal of foresight when they penned this part of the ceremony. They could not have imagined the effect a modern wedding dress would have when walking around the altar three times. Evan is behind us, firmly holding the crowns in place, as the priest leads us around the altar, symbolising our first steps as man and wife.

It's over. The ceremony is complete and I am standing beside my husband. God I wish the Orthodox Church would allow kissing. But there is no ‘you may kiss the bride' in the Greek Church. But you may kiss everybody else. A huge procession of people is now lining up to congratulate us. Time for a lot of Hollywood air kisses. But my husband is holding my hand through it all. I can survive anything with Chris by my side.

God I wish everyone would get out of the bridal room. It's bad enough we all have to sit in this small claustrophobic room until all the guests are seated, I do not need my sister touching up my hair and make-up a million times. Besides, the hairdresser put enough bobby pins and hairspray in my hair to make sure it doesn't move for two weeks.

‘Effie, my hair is fine, my make-up is fine and I do not need help going to the toilet. If you would really like to help me, light me a fucking cigarette.' That would be the greatest help of all and at this point I would be eternally grateful to Effie for it. I couldn't smoke at home once I got the dress on, it was out of the question in the limo and every time I tried to take a drag from Chris at the park, the photographer stuck his camera in my face, and that is not a good look for the wedding album. It's not even a good look for the outtakes. I can feel the relief flood through me now that Effie has shoved a cigarette between my lips. ‘And now, if you could please go outside and convince everyone to leave the bar and take their seats. If we let them operate on Greek time, Chris and I will be here until Monday.' God, at this rate it will be at least another hour before Chris and I can enter the reception. We have to be introduced as husband and wife for the very first time to a crowd of cheering relatives. It would help if Greeks were ever punctual, but that is not going to happen in this lifetime.

‘Calm down, sweetheart, we've only been in here fifteen minutes. Eat something.'

Whilst the finger food looks very appealing, the thought of dropping food on my dress is enough to keep me on a liquid diet for the rest of the day.

‘How about we skip the party and start the honeymoon?' I can just imagine the looks on everyone's faces if Chris takes me up on my suggestion. That would be priceless.

‘No way, babe. Your mother scares the shit out of me and your grandmother would put the evil eye on me. It'll all be over soon enough anyway. Just enjoy it while it lasts.'

He's right. We'll never have this day again so I need to soak up every last minute of it. And I must admit, it has been kind of nice being the centre of attention. I haven't been told off once today. This is one for the record books.

‘Hey,
koumbari mou
.'

Thank God Evan didn't get Chris drunk last night. In fact, Evan's been amazing. The perfect best man.

‘You guys want something to drink while we wait for the wog parade to pass?'

He's just said the magic word. ‘Vodka, lemon and lime, please!' It'll calm me down while we sit in this shoebox of a room.

‘Easy on the vodka, Ev, she hasn't eaten all day.'

Huh? Married five minutes and Chris is already doing my thinking for me? I'm surprised that he'd risk bringing the ice queen out of retirement so early into our marriage.

‘Des, that look didn't work on our first date and it's not going to work now.' Damn he's good. ‘I love you, babe, but I do not want to spend the night with you throwing up or passed out.'

Makes sense. I can deal with that.

Trust me to end up with a surname longer that the one I started with. Could that introduction have been any longer? I can't believe how loud everyone is cheering and the looks on their faces. People looked stunned. Is it really that shocking that I made it here? They should have realised I would only make it to this point with the best there was on offer.

We've sipped our champagne and cut the cake. I know that everyone is here for us (except Sophia, who thankfully, hasn't made an appearance) but I wish I could sneak off with my husband. How weird is that? My husband. We've been getting ready for this moment for months, I've been practising my new signature for just as long, but it all seems so weird, so strange. But it's a good weird. The best kind there is.

‘Let's have a big round of applause for our newlyweds as they share their first dance as husband and wife.' Dancing in my baby's arms I don't care that everyone is watching us. This is our moment. Nothing else matters.

‘I can't wait to get you alone tonight.' It's been a long two months so Chris whispering into my ear is having the desired effect. ‘I hope you don't plan on getting too much sleep.'

If Chris doesn't stop this, I'm going to drag him into the bridal room and to hell with the rest of the reception. I can live without cake.

‘I can't wait to show you what I bought for tonight.' I can still give as good as I get. Besides, lingerie shopping was never as fun as it was for my wedding night.

‘I can't wait to rip it off you.'

Oh, man, I'm going to orgasm right here if Chris doesn't stop this right now. ‘Stop it and just dance.'

I can't believe I am married. I can't believe I'm leading a circle around a dance floor to a song that talks about how beautiful the bride is, how beautiful her dowry is, how beautiful her party is. Today has been full of all the things I thought I would hate, all the things I wanted to avoid at my wedding and all the things my wedding would not be complete without. Everything I thought I hated, I discovered I love. I suppose for me it was a matter of taking those wog traditions and making them my own. I did get married, but it was to someone who I adore, someone of my own choosing – not someone my parents lined up for me. I'm having the big wog wedding reception, but it's at The Point in Albert Park, where Chris and I had our first date – not at the usual tacky wog reception centre. I am going to be a wife, but not the kind whose only mission in life is to make her husband happy. I'll still work (although I might try to find something more exciting than a job in a call centre) and I'll still go out drinking with my friends, although I'll never return to the messed-up, lost person that I used to be.