A Wedding in Paris
Chapter Five
THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANIONSHIP IS
REQUESTED AT THE MARRIAGE UNITING
ABRIHET KELE SENAI
TO
BERNARD JOSEPH KLEIN
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25TH 1997
PLACE DU PANTHEON
PARIS
AT FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON.
A CHAMPAGNE RECEPTION WILL FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY
AFTERWARDS AT MAISON BLANCHE.
PARIS: BERNIE’S APARTMENT
Bernie stepped in front of the full length mirror Abrihet had installed in the large, comfortably decorated bedroom meticulously studying his image. A hand, manicured the day before, checked the bowtie made of a colorful Nigerian pattern. Satisfied, he put on a pair of shiny black wingtip shoes; they fit perfectly over the black merino wool socks Abrihet had knitted for him. When, he wondered between everything else in preparations for this day, had the woman had time for that?
He slipped into the tailored black tuxedo jacket which to use a French expression, ‘lui allait comme un gant’. He then adjusted his boutonnière composed of a spritely piece of green holly, a beautiful white rose contained in a spiral of pale-peach and gray silk that Clark had retrieved from the fridge and attached to the jacket’s buttonhole earlier that morning.
The final piece of the outfit was his great-grandfather’s antique, silver pocket watch, handcrafted well over a century ago in Zurich, Switzerland. Before leaving Metropolis he had taken it to Lazar’s Jeweler’s to be professionally cleaned and set expressly for this occasion. He looped the silver chain through the bottom buttonhole of his waistcoat, than tucked it carefully into the left hand pocket. He wondered if the presents that had been sent over to his fiancée’s apartment arrived. One would be very much appreciated, like a perfectly balanced medieval blade forged from intriguing metals.
Now the other, he was fairly certain the other would be a complete and rather welcome surprise. Abrihet deserved this particular gift - one without price.
Hoping he looked like a proper groom, Bernie stepped out of the neatly arranged bedroom that in a few hours he would *finally* be sharing with Abrihet and walked down a short hallway and into the living room.
“Ready?” Clark asked as he looked his watch, himself immaculately turned out in a striking tuxedo.
“Uh? Ready for what?” Bernie said absent mindedly as he entered the kitchen to make a coffee.
“To get married Bernie!” His friend answered with amused exasperation.
The older man sat down carefully, the tuxedo fashioned by JOHAN’S head tailor was one of the most expensive garments he had ever worn besides a radiation suit and he had no desire to get it creased before Abrihet saw him in it. Rather than answer Clark’s question directly he shook his head in amusement and said, “Surprisingly, France, the country renowned throughout the world for love and romance, makes getting married somewhat of a chore. The documentation I had to provide was extensive to say the least. It was even a surprise to me that you and Kuma are not considered the Best Man and Maid of Honor, but simply ‘official’ witnesses to the ceremony. Abrihet and I won’t be legally married until you two sign the certified document.” He said holding up a substantially packed manila envelope that was previously on the coffee table. “Thankfully everything was in the Se marier à Paris, yet, I still felt like I was gathering material for a master thesis!”
Clark smiled, “Oh this isn’t so bad, you should have seen what Lois and I had to put up with when Councilor Trey insisted we renew our vows on New Krypton. We had to wear black robes and have a silken fabric wrapped around our wrists to legalize our marriage on New Krypton. Apparently, it had to do with me renouncing all claims to the title and powers of First Lord.”
The older man nodded his head slightly, “As a member of royalty, despite having lived your entire life on this planet, that puts you outside of the normal list of rules and regulations, hence the ceremony and repeating of Kryptonian vows. In France the marriage vows must be said by the mayor or his assistant, otherwise it is not legally recognized. We are not permitted to change a single word! At the conclusion of the ceremony, we say ‘Oui’ instead of ‘I do’.” Bernie rubbed his bald head, “Don’t get me wrong. I love France. But if Abrihet was not determined to wed here, I would rather have gone to City Hall in Metropolis.”
“No, taking part in a cold city hall wedding is not yours or Abrihet’s style. When Ellen Lane started to drive us both crazy with the endless details I suggested the same thing to my wife.”
Interested in this tale, Bernie leaned forward and asked. “Oh, what did Lois say?”
“’Not on your life buster!’ With those words she shot the whole idea down. Women – and men for the most part like weddings. It’s a way of bringing families together.”
Bernie shook his head in wonderment, “To be honest, I always shied away from attending them. Your wedding was the first I had gone to in a few years. Of course, once we are married, Abrihet and I will be there when James exchanges vows with Lucille. That is if we are invited.”
Clark cocked an eyebrow and chuckled, “One of these days he’ll ask her to marry him. But I don’t think it will be anytime this year.”
Looking a little confused Bernie said, “Actually, James called before we left. He wanted some suggestions as to how he should propose to his lady. If all goes according to plan, by the time you return to Metropolis, he and Lucille will be engaged”
“What? Why didn’t he ask me?” Clark said, somewhat taken aback. He had known Jimmy longer than Bernie. Besides, since Lucy was his sister-in-law, it seemed the natural choice to ask him.
Looking a little embarrassed Bernie responded, “Could you keep such happy news from your wife? Young James shouldn’t have any problem, as long as his knee does not lock up!”
“No, your right, Lois would figure out something was up.” Clark looked at his watch again, a touch of concern creeping into his voice.
“When was the limo supposed to get here?”
“At that moment the phone rang. Bernie hastened to pick it up. He listened for a moment, frowned, answered crisply in French and then put the receiver down.
“Everything all right Bernie? Was that Abrihet?”
“No. Everything is most decidedly not right. That was the driver; apparently he got stuck behind an accident, traffic is backed up so he called from a nearby café. There are no other limousines available to pick us up. He will try to drive around and met us at Town Hall. Thankfully, Abrihet’s driver is there at her apartment building already.” He grew thoughtful for a moment, looked through the large picture window at the scene outside, then said, “My friend, it’s a magnificent early evening in autumn; the air is as sharp as my old slide rule! Why don’t we grab our coats and walk to the ceremony?
“Walk?” Clark couldn’t quite keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Bernie, it’s at least fifteen minutes away.”
“It’s four o’clock; we will be there in plenty of time. Can you think of a better way to work off the nerves? Besides, now that I think about, it the traffic around the MAIRIE DU 5ÈME ARRONDISSEMENT might be a bit thick. Hopefully, the bridal party will be leaving soon.”
It only took a moment for Clark to consider it and realize his friend was right. Deftly plucking the Se marier à Paris off the coffee table and securely tucking the sheath of documents under his arm, he turned around and said, “Okay, as Best man it’s part of my duties to get you there on time and in one piece.” He opened the hallway closet, pulled out a couple of trenchcoats, handed the dark blue one to Bernie and put on his own. “Come on Monsieur Klein, votre femme vous attend (your lady awaits).” With purposeful strides, he walked towards the door, opened it and with a deep bow gestured for Bernie to exit. His friend returned the bow, struggled into his own coat, determined not to wrinkle his new tuxedo, and then stepped over the threshold, taking the first steps towards his new life.
PARIS: ABRIHET’S APARTMENT
A mere ten blocks away, in Abrihet’s apartment the only words that could be used to describe the activity taking place within was ‘controlled’ chaos. Under normal circumstances the apartment was spacious enough for even five people, but now the living room was crowded with what seemed like an army of specialists assisting the bride. Only moments before, some of Abrihet’s colleagues from the school were there, wishing her well and promising to see her at the reception.
In the living room, a make-up artist, hair stylist and nail technician sporting a shock of wild pink hair, were packing up after working on Abrihet and her sister Kuma.
In Abrihet’s bedroom, Lois stood by, already dressed in the lavender outfit purchased from Darcy’s weeks ago waiting to provide assistance to the bride. Abrihet, wore a blue silk robe, looked at the glorious gown hanging from the closet door, gave her head with it cascade of braids a dubious shake and said. “How does one wear une œuvre d'art? (A work of art)
“Put the skirt on first, shoes and then the sheath jacket.” Lois said with a shrug.
“Are you quite certain?” Abrihet responded.
Looking over a sheet of paper, Lois answered with a giggle, “These are the instructions Jarawu put in with the gown.”
“Many thanks to Clark for letting you spend the night with Kuma and I. We had a lot of fun.” Her expression grew thoughtful as she said,
“Oh! I wish she or my mother was here! This gown is so delicate, I am certain to tear it … ”
A knock on the door interrupted Abrihet’s comments, Kuma, entered the room, wearing a glorious peach and gray gown fit for a young princess. She was quieter than her sister, but had the same warm smile and gentle demeanor. Behind her stood a woman wearing an intricately tied, golden headdress called a gele and dress to match. She cleared her throat and said, “Here is someone who can assist with your gown and …many other things.”
Lois looked up from studying the paper and saw an older version of Abrihet. At one time, this woman had been breathtakingly beautiful.
There was the briefest moment of silence and then Abrihet crossed the room and gathered the newcomer in a tight embrace. A single word whispered in her native tongue and Lois knew she need not wonder further as Mother and child beheld each other after twenty years estrangement.
When they parted, Abrihet started speaking rapidly, a mixture of Yoruba, French and English tripping over her tongue. “Iya (Mother) How did you get here? Who told you when I was getting married? Is Father here?”
Her mother smiled through her own tears, displaying an array of beautiful white teeth. “Kuma contacted me on the same night that you told her of your engagement and explained everything. I was determined to end this separation between us. Twenty years is twenty years too long. Unfortunately; your father was not willing to come. But have patience, someday he will understand. Now, what is this about having some difficulty getting into your gown? Even in Lagos, we have heard of the talented seamstress Jarawu Basil. I have no doubt anything she created shall be easy to put on and wear.”
“Excuse me Mother, but what about Bernard’s gift?” Kuma said as she held a small blue cloth bag in her hands.
“Ah, how forgetful am I!” Taking the bag, Mrs. Senai bowed low to Abrihet and reverently placed the bag into her oldest daughter’s hands.
None of Abrihet’s childhood dreams had come true; there would be no Elder of the village, letter exchange or palm wine to be drunk, yet none of that mattered Her mother was here! She reached inside the bag and removed a long black box marked with a silver L. With hands trembling from equal parts nervousness and anticipation she opened it. Inside, lying on a cushy bed of crimson velvet was a delicate bracelet made of diamonds and sapphires, designed to match her engagement ring.
“Magnifique.” Abrihet whispered.
The four women looked at the bracelet and made appreciative comments as it was passed around.
“It appears the man you are about to marry has more than excellent taste in other things as well as in his future wife.” Madame Senai commented.
“I helped him pick it out.” Kuma said shyly. “He wanted to get you an ugly letter opener in the shape of a sword called the cutlass. Bernard said something about it being a ‘scholar’s’ choice.” She rolled her eyes and groaned, “How completely unromantic!”
“Unromantic to the average bride, but not to me!” Her sister said with a dreamy smile. “That man knows me so well!”
Kuma sighed, “Surely you wouldn’t take the letter opener over this jewelry?”
Abrihet shrugged, Kuma groaned and their iya smiled content to be with her daughters this day.
When Lois took the bracelet into her hands, she marveled at the precision of design and it’s pleasing to the eye shape. She remarked,
“This is so much better than a letter opener. Good work Kuma!”
Glancing at her watch, she said, “Its twenty minutes past two, time to put the dress and veil on and get you married!”
The insistent sound of the phone ringing cut off further conversation; Kuma picked it up, listened carefully and thanked the caller. Her face flushed with anxiety.
“Mon Dieu! That was the driver. He has arrived early and says Bernard’s car did not pick them up due to an accident in front of him. Abominable was the traffic tie-up. He spoke to Bernard; unfortunately, he does not know how they are getting to the Place du Panthéon. But he promises to be at the Mairie (Town Hall) in time to take us to the reception at MAISON BLANCHE.”
Before Abrihet could allow her sister’s concerns to affect her, Lois said, “Clark’ll make certain Bernie arrives at the ceremony on time.” She emphasized the last two words, covertly reminding her friend just who the Best Man really was.
The three women were starting to chat about how unforeseen occurrences can throw off any event when they hear a loud clap. They turned to Madame Senai she held up her hands and gesturing to the gown said,
“Just so, my dear. We must prepare you. It is very rude to keep your husband waiting.”
“Iya, we are not yet married.” Abrihet said as she removed her gown from its covering.
The older woman shrugged her shoulders and responded, “He has given you his heart and an engagement ring. You are leaving Paris, the city which has been home for nearly two decades. This means you are his and he is yours. Having the mayor say a few words only makes it legal. As your Iya, I am happy to be here and witness the event. But it is also my job to hurry you along.”
Abrihet and Kuma’s eyes started to water, it was so good to have their Ma’a mi (Mom) with them!
Her mother took the gown from Abrihet’s hands and laid it gently on the bed, her eyes were also getting a little misty. “Lovely gown, not as colorful as is tradition, but it suits you – a wedding gown which is a mixture of African and French design.”
Lois stood quietly on the side lines as Abrihet’s mother and sister carefully dressed her for the wedding. It was a precious time for all three women, reconnecting after so many years apart. Chatting in a cheerful mixture of three languages as they discussed people and memories from days long past.
Finally, Abrihet, properly arraigned in her wedding attire; the gown, veil and jewelry made her look like a queen. As a last touch, Madame Senai carefully put the diamond and sapphire bracelet on her daughter’s wrist and secured it.
Recollections of her wedding to Clark could not fail to come to mind. The lovely, intimate time the Lane women shared made her smile. Ellen was in her element, telling people what to do and how best to do it. Only Mike Lane stood up to her when she tried to remove Martha Kent’s rosemary biscuit recipe from the reception menu. Despite that one hiccup, it was a fabulous day, one she would cherish no matter how long she lived.
A small secretive smile came to her lips; she and Clark shared a bed for the first time that night, coming together as husband and wife. Their marriage had allowed them to enjoy so many intimate moments, soon they would be sharing a great deal more.
A loud knock at the door intruded on her thoughts, she exited the bedroom, x-rayed the door and discovered that Monsieur Bechard the photographer, with his assistant Jules had arrived. She checked her watch again; it was now a quarter to three. Taking the photos shouldn’t absorb too much time; they had to leave here by no later than 4:30 if they were to get to the place of ceremony without a lot of fuss. Quickly, she crossed the now empty living room and opened the door to let the two men inside. It was going to be close, but she had every confidence they would leave on time.
PARIS: MAIRIE DU 5ÈME ARRONDISSEMENT
Dusk had fallen and the air was slightly cooler as they walked towards the Place du Panthéon à Paris, Clark, sensing that Bernie was getting a little nervous, began speaking, his own walking tour of the place where his friend would marry. “Here we are walking towards The Panthéon, which is an early example of Neoclassicism, with a Greek-cross plan and a massive portico of Corinthian columns. Its ambitious lines called for a vast building 110 meters long by 84 meters wide, and 83 meters high. The crypt is equally vast.”
“The Panthéon's façade is modeled on that of the Pantheon in Rome, surmounted by a small dome that resembles that of St. Paul's Cathedral in London. Located in the 5th arrondissement on the top of Montagne Sainte-Geneviève, the Panthéon looks out over all of Paris.*” Clark stopped talking once they reach the Mairie (Town Hall)
Bernie chuckled softly as they continued to walk, “Thanks for the impromptu tour, it’s helping to settle my nerves. Even though our engagement has not been very long, time has moved by so gradually, it seems more like six months than six weeks.
All Clark could do was smile as they walked up the wide granite steps of the town hall; he opened the door to let his friend inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the low lights of dusk to the bright lights of the interior. “Come on, I think the chamber is this way.”
***
Several well dressed people came into the neoclassically designed large room, took their seats and began to converse with their neighbors, waiting for the officiant to arrive and perform the Klein/Senai ceremony. The small crowd seemed to be dwarfed by the high ceilings, impressive iron and glass chandeliers and substantial columns, but as a group, they ignored the massive beauty of the surroundings. Only happy anticipation seemed to race from one guest to the other and swirled effortlessly through the air like the colorful falling leaves outside.
A contingent of people from S.T.A.R. Labs, friends of Bernie’s entered next. The Americans were quietly awed by the beauty of their surroundings, but as to be expected of scientists, they quickly recovered from the aesthetics and began discussing the mathematics of creating the building. Eventually they found their seats, but pulled out their calculators to re-check their mental calculations.
From a side door, a tall spare man, with a slight paunch and fringe of gray hair surrounding his head, entered the room carrying an air of grave dignity all about him. Mayor Calixte of the 5th arrondissement wore the symbol of his office; a blue, white and red sash over a black suit paired with a white shirt and burgundy tie. He stood in front of the bust of Marianne, the symbol of the Republic and waited the faintest whisper of a smile on his lips.
Not too far away four musicians; three violinists and a cellist played classical wedding music. They were friends of Abrihet’s and from the sweet and easy sounds of their ensemble effort, very comfortable playing together. The hum of conversation tapered off and ended when the audience noticed two impeccably dressed men - the Groom and Best man step through the main entrance. The mayor watched as Bernie and Clark entered the room, walked up the long aisle and took their places just in front of him.
Bernie nervously took out his pocket watch and said, his voice strained, “Its 4:45 and three quarters. Where is she?”
***
A sleek white limousine pulled up to the front steps of the Mairie, Abrihet looked outside and noted that the crowds which usually surrounded the place had thinned considerably. They had made it a point to be the last couple to be wed today. It cut down on the possibility of having stragglers interrupt the cérémonie.
Her iya’s voice broke into her train of thought, “Abrihet, are you ready?”
“Oui. Still, I do not see Bernhard’s limousine.” A note of worry fluttered in her voice. “How will they get to the reception? For that matter, I don’t know if Bernhard and Clark have arrived as yet.”
Lois placed a reassuring hand on her friend’s arm and winked a silent reminder of what the Best Man was capable of.
“Perhaps we should have Monsieur Bechard go inside and let him know we are here?” Kuma suggested.
Madam Senai nodded her head in agreement and Kuma was about to open the door and exit the vehicle when another white limousine pulled up behind them. It was the other car which should have brought Bernie and Clark.
The phone rang, the driver picked it up and began talking in low tones and nodding his head. They heard a brief conversation take place between the two drivers, than her driver opened the partition and spoke in French to Abrihet. Lois noted the look of relief on her face and happy the second driver was telling them what happened to the guys.
Abrihet turned to her mother in order to translate. Kuma spoke French and Lois of course was already familiar with the language.
“The other driver apologizes and says Bernie told him he would make his way to the Mairie. I have no doubt he is probably here already and getting nervous about us!”
A touch of Mad Dog Lane surfaced in Lois, “I hope this transport service gives you a discount!”
Her companions chuckled at her comment and then decided it was time for all of them to leave the vehicle. The driver got out, stepped around the large car, opened the door for the ladies and extended his hand to each as she alighted from the limo.
By the time Abrihet gracefully excited the limousine, despite the darkness and slight chill in the air, a small crowd of well wishers had gathered. Respectful applauses and cheerful shouts of Félicitations! and other words of congratulations reached her ears. She smiled nervously, took a deep breath and allowed Monsieur Bechard’s assistant, Jules to take her picture, while his boss entered the building.
Jules had quickly taken a final group shot with a special flash. Now Madam Senai, Kuma, Lois and Abrihet climbed the steep, ancient gray steps. Kuma was mindful to watch the hem of her sister’s gown, to make certain it did not catch on anything.
***
A reply to Bernie’s question was about come from Clark’s lips when he recognized Monsieur Bechard, the photographer; he walked over them and said the bridal party was outside. Bernie, visibly relaxed when he heard the news. Bechard took his camera and stood just in front of the door so he could take pictures of the bridal party as they entered the chamber.
Lois came into the chamber, walked down the aisle with all the style and no-nonsense pace of a world class investigative reporter, hurrying to get to her seat before the ceremony began. Seeing her in the lovely lavender dress, her dark brown hair spilling down her back filled Clark’s chest with joy and pride. His wife seemed lit up from within, shining with a glow that was greater than when they married. He grinned at her like a love happy fool, but he didn’t care. She gave him a triumphant smile and saucy wink, than wordless took her seat. This was the prearranged signal that they could begin the ceremony.
Clark nodded to the quartet who started playing Canon in D by J. Pachelbel.
The doors opened and Kuma entered the fabric of her peach and gray gown made delicate swishing sounds, like the lapping of water against an untouched, sandy shore, bit by bit, head a little bowed, she stepped down the aisle. Once she reached Clark and Bernie she stood on the left side and then turned to watch the Bride make her entrance.
Both doors opened again and Abrihet stepped into the chamber with her iya by her side, a slight murmur went throughout the small group as they took in the sight of this elegantly dressed woman wearing a shimmering garment. In her hands was a bouquet of white and pink gardenias, the purity of their passionate scent perfumed the room. Softly, gradually the two women walked down the aisle. Bernie’s eyes grew misty with excitement and his throat went dry as a vision of beauty and love moved closer to him. Yes, love. A deep love that had beaten the mathematical odds, despite great distances and their manifold outward differences, he could no more be apart from Abrihet than Galileo from his telescope or Madam Curie from radium, she was his heart and home. At last she stood by his side, an expression of deep contentment on her face. As he took her hands in his and impulsively kissed both cheeks in the French manner, Bernard knew he was finally home.
From her seat, Lois watched as the ceremony unfolded, like a spool of glistening thread, the first of so many whose final products was not simply a ceremony, but the first stitches of a strong, joyful marriage. Mayor Calixte began with the reading of various portions of the civil code related to marriage. She could see her friends exchange amused glances as the mayor spoke. There was no doubt in her mind that although he had performed this particular duty many times, each couple brought something new and different to the occasion. It was up to him to make the day special for them, so it would live happily in their memories as the years rolled by.
Once the code had been read he smiled at the couple and invited them to stand as they said their vows.
With a gentle clearing of his throat, the mayor spoke, “Bernard, voulez-vous prendre Abrihet pour légitime épouse?". (Bernard, Do you take Abrihet to be your legitimate wife?)
With a clear, firm voice Bernard Klein answered, "Oui".
"Abrihet, voulez-vous prendre Bernard pour légitime époux". (Abrihet,
Do you take Bernard to be your legitimate husband?)
Looking deeply into Bernard’s eyes she said just as loudly for all listening, "Oui." Abrihet leaned a bit closer and said quietly enough that only he could hear. “With all my heart.”
The mayor indicated the bridal party should approach the table in order to sign the register; Kuma gathered up Abrihet’s train and held it as her sister walked. First Abrihet carefully signed the register and handed the pen to Bernie, who added his name besides hers. Next Clark and Kuma in their turn took the pen and quickly affixed their signatures to the state document. With a bow and graceful gesture of his hands the mayor said. “Are there rings to be given?”
Clark and Kuma stepped up, each handed a ring to the couple. They exchanged rings; simple bands of gold engraved with their initials and wedding date.
The mayor, after watching the ring exchange like an expectant parent, smiled again and turning to the audience said, “May I introduce to those present, Bernard and Abrihet Klein!” He turned to Bernie said in a stage whisper, “Monsieur, please … kiss your wife!”
His arms wrapped themselves around her slender waist as she raised hers about his neck; Bernie touched his lips to her forehead, her temples and then her cheeks, his very skin tingling in anticipation as his lips felt the moist sweetness of hers.
Abrihet was sure she heard the happy tumult of approval as friends and family applauded and cheered, but then at further reflection, it was actually the melody of her heart finally and completely beating in perfection harmony with that of her husband’s.
PARIS: RECEPTION AT MAISON BLANCHE
The Maison Blanche was like a highly polished gem sitting in the jewel box that is Paris at night. Perched on the top of the Champs Elysees theatre, the restaurant is the perfect place to view the Eiffel Tower and other sites of interest. The Kents had taken meals at many an impressive restaurant, but this one was in a class set apart.
Even though they were both invulnerable to temperatures, it was important to maintain appearances. They checked their coats and followed the rest of the guests to the winding stairs leading up to the Mezzanine which offered a better view of the cityscape. Lois looked over the table holding the seating placement cards; Stately affairs done in perfect calligraphy with black ink, and noticed they were seated at Table Three with some of Abrihet’s co-workers. They settled down and waited for the bride and groom to enter.
The white linen covered tables were strategically set up to comfortably accommodate not only the forty guests, but also provide enough room to dance afterwards. The bridal table decorated with a peach tablecloth, white linen napkins and glassware and plates so dazzlingly bright they hurt the eyes, had the best view in the room.
Clark shook his head in amazement. “How did Abrihet manage to pull together such a reception in the timeframe she had?”
Lois smirked, “Once a woman makes up her mind to get married, nothing, not even the sticky problem of where the reception is to be held, will get in her way.” She snickered and then added, “It doesn’t hurt that this restaurant had a wedding reception set for today, but at the last minute the couple decided to get married in Cannes instead.”
***
The quartet had assembled at the far end of the room and played classical music gently in the background while other guests entered the Mezzanine level and took their seats. Once Madam Senai and Kuma were seated at Table Two, a medium height, dignified Nigerian gentleman wearing a colorful robe called the agbada – a traditional garb worn by men for formal occasions over a pair of sokotos, loose-fitting trousers, stepped onto the dance floor, a microphone in his hand. Suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed as the lights were dimmed, the man began to speak.
“Bienvenue, mes amis! My name is Professor Abani and I have known Abrihet Senai …” He stopped, embarrassed by his tiny mistake and continued, “Excuse me, Professor Senai-Klein for a few years. Never have I seen her as radiant as the day she introduced me to Bernard, who has brought much sunshine and peace to her life. He is the richer for having her as his wife and we are the poorer for losing her to a new life in America. So, permit me introduce to all gathered here, Monsieur and Madame Klein!”
As soon as he stopped speaking, the sound of jubilant applause and shouts of felicitations punctuated the air. At the top of the stairs, stood Abrihet and Bernie, their fingers interlaced as they stepped into the mezzanine level. Monsieur Bechard took numerous photos, the flash lights and sound of the shuttle going off from his camera and several other cascaded over them like a silvery, thunderous waterfall.
They were a striking couple, a study in contrasts; the black tuxedo with its crisp white shirt made Bernie appear taller, debonair with shoulders back and head held high. No one would suspect he spent long hours in the laboratory, for he appeared to be a man perfectly at home in formal occasions such as this. His wife, the beautiful dark woman by his side fairly glittered as the spotlight shone on her off-the-shoulder white gown with its meticulously stitched, cream colored accents. The dazzling metals of her necklace and headdress made soft tinkling sounds as she moved.
Bernie bent down and whispered in his wife’s ear, “Es-tu prete, Ma cherie?” (Ready, my darling?)
Abrihet looked up at him, a radiant smile showed brilliant white teeth, how one’s heart could contain such happiness! “Oui!” Was her only reply. Gathering the skirt of her dress, they took to the floor in their first dance as husband and wife, a charming, flawlessly executed waltz. Seeing how graceful Abrihet was surprised no one. But to watch her new mate glide across the floor like a latter day Fred Astaire was something of a shock to the guests from America. Especially the Kents who had no idea he would dance at his reception, much less waltz!
“Wow! Talk about impressive!” Lois turned to a middle-aged woman, one of Abrihet’s colleagues and said, “Madame Allaire, were you aware that Bernie could dance so well? How long have they been practicing?” Lois asked.
An older woman with gray hair done up in a perfect chignon spoke, her voice was clear and melodious despite her years said, “Abrihet tells me he was quite resistant at first. Nonetheless, he wanted to be able to share this part of her passion … the dance. As we can see the results are magnifique! They move together as one, as if they were dancing together for years. The passion they have for the dance is nothing compared to the passion they have for one another.”
Lois and the rest of the wedding guests quietly observe the couple step in perfect time with each other the sight was mesmerizing, they danced as if they were the only people in the room - with eyes simply for each other. Lois found herself in total agreement with Madame Allaire’s comment.
***
Clark thought back to the shy young man who years ago came to her dance class, apprehensive as to what to expect. Despite his father’s assistance and discipline he was still unsure of how to touch or hold people, particularly those he occasionally rescued. Too much pressure at any given time and the injuries could be disastrous. He needed greater control of his physical abilities. Football in college had taught him about balance and being light on his feet. The martial arts were appealing, but not what he wanted to study at that time. Dancing would teach him how to hold a person using just the precise amount of strength.
Through Abrihet’s patient tutelage the raw potential which were Clark Kent’s amazing abilities bloomed with the knowledge and application of ball room dancing. So to watch his former teacher waltz effortlessly with a man who always swore he had two left feet was not as much of a revelation as it would be to Lois or Bernie’s other friends. The new Mrs. Klein had in the past worked - without her knowledge of course - with a much more dangerous partner.
Once the bride and groom finished dancing and sat down at their table, the first course began which was a delectable fresh garden salad or onion soup. A white gloved waiter brought a tray laden with covered plates and with the help of an assistant laid them down in front of each guest. Everyone dived into their salads or soups. Soon the sounds of silverware chinking against the dishes and gentle conversations in three languages filled the air. But the excellent food didn’t prevent several guests from going up to the blissful couple and saying felicitations.
“The salad is delicious! What kind of dressing did they use? Take notes Clark, we have to try and duplicate this at home!”
“Don’t worry, I am!” He took in a breath, catching a familiar aroma he sighed happily, with his X-ray vision peeked into the kitchen and said so quietly only Lois could hear, “Ah! The staff is plating Coq au vin! If it tastes even half as good as it looks we are in for a treat!”
Hearing that, Lois’ mouth began to water, “Oh, yummy! Chicken frickasee cooked in red wine with mushrooms and garlic. That other couple’s change of mind worked out well for our friends! This food is so rich. Thank goodness for our ‘high’ metabolism! Otherwise we would have to run for at least a month to work off the calories! By the way, where is the cake? I’m a little surprised not to see Amandine’s creation, especially after all the hard work she put into it. Shouldn’t it be on display next to the bride and groom?”
Overhearing the comment, Madam Allaire broke off speaking with her husband and asked. “Ah, Madame Kent, this is your first time attending a Parisian wedding?”
Lois nodded and said “Yes.”
The older woman’s lips tugged into a smile and her eyes twinkled with mischief, “Then you are in for a treat!” Not saying anymore, she turned back to her meal.
Lois glanced at her husband with a quizzed expression on her face. His only response was to wiggle his eyebrows and turned back to his own plate.
Additional courses followed until they reached the coffee and cake stage. As the waiters moved from table to table pouring coffee from silver pots. Another man followed behind distributing to each guest small sticks that reminded Lois of Fourth of July sparklers.
Again, Lois was the only one at the table who was completely in the dark about what was going on. The gentle rumble of Clark’s voice in her ear said, “When I tell you to, light up your sparkler, this is part of the cake presentation.”
Mystified, but willing to follow Clark’s lead, Lois agreed. Moments later the quartet abruptly ceased playing, lights went out and the glass side of the building with its backdrop of Paris at night and the illuminated Eiffel Tower in the middle was all any of the guests could see. Once again Professor Abani’s voice called out in the darkness. “Le gateau! Le gateau!” (Cake! Cake!)
“Ok honey, light up your sparkler!” With those words, she took a match, struck it and proceeded to light up her sparkler which sizzled like hundreds of tiny, white hot diamonds into glorious life. Together the entire table joined in shouting for Le gateau.
The rest of the guests followed suit, lit their sparklers and took up the chant. Waving the sparkling sticks as the shouts became louder. Amid the fanfare, doors to the kitchen opened the head patissière and his assistants carried out the cake decorated with icing, chocolate, sugared almonds and candy ribbons colored peach and cream to the couple.
Clark said, “This particular wedding cake is called the croquembouche a tower of cream-filled, puff-pastry balls that was piled into a high pyramid and encircled with caramelized sugar. This sugar is what gives the dessert its name—croquembouche loosely translates to “crunch in the mouth.”**
As the sparklers died away, Bernie and Abrihet each broke off pieces of the puff-pastry ball and feed a few bites to each other. The cake was then whisked away to be cut, plated and served to the eagerly waiting guests.
The quartet played while everyone enjoyed cake, then they packed up their instruments and since they were friends of Abrihet, joined the guests. A mixture of classical music and smooth Jazz, recorded for the occasion, filled the air and then some of the guests began to slow dance, among them Madame Senai with Professor Abani and Kuma showed Jules a few moves she picked up in London. Meanwhile Abrihet and Bernie walked around thanking their guests for coming.
“Lois! Clark! We can’t thank you enough for all the background assistance you’ve provided over the past few weeks. It would have been impossible without your help!” Bernie said when he came over to their table.
“Your wife had a huge hand in planning this celebration; imagine pulling together a wedding and reception in six weeks. I can tell you right now, we needed six months to pull off our wedding!” Clark said with a generous laugh.
As the men clustered together around the table for a moment, Lois took Abrihet aside and asked. “So, where are you going for your Honeymoon?”
“Italy. Bernard has arranged for us to stay at a charming farmhouse in Tuscany. The location will be central for day trips, we especially want to go to Pisa and see the leaning tower. We look forward to sleeping until noon and then taking a few bike rides. After all the excitement of the past few weeks, it is just what we need. But tonight we are staying at his … our place and will depart for the airport around noon.” The romantic look in Abrihet’s eyes was very familiar to Lois; she had seen it more than a few times when she caught Clark looking at her.
As the evening festivities wound down and everyone began to take their leave, Lois and Clark took to the floor for one last dance. Clark hummed a gentle tune in her ear as they swayed with increasingly sensuous movements across the floor. They watched as Abrihet hugged her mother and sister good-bye and then took Bernie’s hand, ran down the stairs and disappeared into the night.
The music ended, hand in hand they walked back to the now deserted table, Lois sensuously whispered into his ear “The bride and groom have just skipped out. Are you ready to go home – to Metropolis - Mr. Kent?”
Her husband and lover responded, “No, Mrs. Kent, I’m not ready to leave for home quite yet. This is Saturday; Perry does not expect us back until Tuesday. Maybe it time we went on that second honeymoon?”
Surprised, she looked at him and said, “Oh? Just what exactly do you have in mind?”
“There is a small tropical island in the Pacific I would love to show you. It has a sparkling beach with warm white sand, a crystal blue waterfall and most of all …” Clark whispered
“Yes?” Lois said in anticipation.
“The dress code strictly forbids clothing.” Her husband said with a wickedly delicious gleam in his eye.
Lois leaned next to Clark and gently nipped his earlobe with equally deliciously wicked dexterity, in a voice low and husky she said, “Oh, I like the way that Kryptonian mind of yours thinks. Lead on sweetheart!” With that the most unique couple in the world gathered their things and disappeared to a romantic, intimate place only they could fly to.
The End
*This information came from the Pantheon Paris website.
**This information came from the Good Life France website
Pictures in the Comments section!
Last edited by Morgana; 06/07/15 10:41 PM.
