WAS IT A FEAR OF THE THOUGHT OF LOSING A DAUGHTER TO A MAN?

I have hardly graced wedding parties with my presence all my life. I have been to only five so far. That point when my friends start to have a chinwag about experiences of being flower gals, maids is the unvarnished instant I concede it was high time I got something to guzzle, a movie to watch, headsets to put to immediate use as I carry them along wherever I go.

Like the way you felt in class whenever a teacher squinted at you as if afraid he might pick on you to give an answer to a question that you blankly didn’t know. How that got me nervous was the same way I felt. Headsets would bail me out. I would place them on my head and turn the music low or play no music at all. I needed to know where the conversation would head so I could stage a re-entry. I nodded my head frequently to signify the music was cool. I sang along, sometimes to the music in my head.

If I had kept quiet, they would pick on me. How was I going to say it? ‘Actually I have never been a maid all my life’. That was so out and shaming, how? In this generation!? One of my friends was a maid almost every three months since I got to meet her. Imagine how she would react if I told her the truth.

Being a flower gal to me was a dream, but when I passed the age of five I upgraded it to becoming a maid! As for now it’s only hope that one of my girlfriends might ask me to be their maid of honor on their day. Fingers are still crossed though. My parents always made it clear, ‘read, what does the card say? Mr. & Mrs. ……. Does it say and family? Or and all their children?”

Indeed that’s what they always said. But I had asked mummy why! Why do all the cards that people send exclude children? And she had replied that children are not important! ‘You first become an adult and you’ll start attending these parties.’ I looked forward to that. She was right, recently I attended about 3 wedding parties with them. That adds up to 5 including the 2 I had attended chancily as a kid.

A little drama happened at the last one I attended. It was a posh party, I liked it. I only describe it as posh if I get to eat a considerable amount of cake. I regretted having attended one where I did not even have a plate of cake pass by my table. That was one of my worst moments. But this one was posh indeed, even if the heavy clouds later on let go of their wrath towards the end of the celebration. The best part was where the bride threw away flowers to the single women, facing away from them, as a blessing to be the next wed. The Master of Ceremony called out for all the single ladies. I hesitated at first, but then thought about how great it would be if those flowers actually landed in my hands.

The Mc personally picked me up from my table and so did he other young women that had remained seated. My old man had no idea what was going on. He chose to stare and find out. My mum, I could bet she wanted the flowers to be mine, from the look on her face. Damn! Did she want to get rid of me that fast?

It was when the bride was about to throw the flowers in the count of 5,4,3,2…. that I felt a hand grab my arm roughly, I lost balance and slid, my right stiletto piercing sharply into the soft ground, my body heading to the same ground. Only sustained by my left knee. He lifted me up. ‘Sorry but we are leaving for home. The rain can’t catch us here.’

But why did he leave the rest at the table he shared with them to tell me we had to go home? Why didn’t he first wait for me to see my chances with the flowers?