My Life in Shambles(95)
Little did I know just what an adventure we’d partake together. How much she’d turn my life upside down, banish the cobwebs of my soul, and bring light into my world. I didn’t know how much I would end up needing her. Not just in terms of my affliction, but in terms of my heart. I don’t even think mine was fully beating before she came into my life.
But now she’s here. Now she’s going to be my wife. And there’s nothing else I could ask for more.
Except for having my father here. My mother. My wee sister.
I miss them with every fibre of my being, wishing they were here with everyone, wishing they could share this joy. But even though that black hole inside me still exists and always will, I also know they’re here in spirit. After all, it’s an Irish wedding and that’s always kind of a magical thing.
This wedding, however, is pretty simple, even though there are a load of guests. It’s like the whole town showed up and there are rows of standing room only at the back.
There’s my nan and the Major in the front row, surrounded by various aunts and uncles and cousins. Yes, the Major is wearing a rather loud suit, clover green with faint yellow checks, but I think it brings some extra life to the event.
On the other side are Valerie’s parents and family, including her aunt with MS who looks like she’s doing amazingly well.
Beside me is my best man, Hemi, and then Alistair, looking quite fine in their tuxedos, albeit a little rough since they were up drinking through all hours of the night.
On the other side of Valerie are Sandra and Angie, who won’t stop sniffling into their tissues and dabbing their eyes.
The ceremony is in the walled garden at the back of the B&B, decorated beautifully and alive with June’s flowers.
Of course, I had to have the wedding in Shambles.
It’s where we live now.
I run the B&B while Valerie works on the book she’s writing.
The Major still lives with us. So does Nan, who insists on doing the cooking even though we’ve hired Roy, this young cook to help out with breakfasts for the guests. He’s a nice young guy but my nan keeps insisting on helping with everything. At first I thought she was stubborn (we bought a dryer for the place and she still hangs her washing outside to dry). But Valerie says it’s because my nan just likes to flirt and ogle him. She’s probably right about that. Whatever keeps her young.
The other good thing about Roy is that he’s kind of turned into my personal chef, which is something I’ve desperately needed, especially as I’m so busy all the time.
When Valerie moved to Shambles and we really started tackling the treatment for my MS, she kept on mentioning on how her aunt had improved on a certain diet. So we tried it here, basically low-fat, high intake of fruits and vegetables, cucumber or celery juice in the morning, lots of teas and hot water with lemon and a fuckload of supplements. Giving up booze and coffee too, which was the hardest, I think.
Now, Roy makes all my meals for me and ensures I stay on track.
I was a skeptic at first but I have to say, the pay-off has been incredible.
I’m not cured.
There is no cure for MS.
But my symptoms have stopped progressing. There was a while there when I bought a cane just to use on some days when I felt too weak but it’s rare that I ever use it. Maybe the end of last summer when the heat got to me and made things worse, but other than that, I’m completely able-bodied. I can even go for light jogs on cool mornings and I’ve never stopped lifting weights. I’m a lot leaner than I used to be but luckily my muscles are sticking around. We’ve transformed one of the large sheds out back into a gym and when I’m not working or with Valerie, that’s where I tend to spend a lot of my time.
I do miss the game, though. I think I always will. I mourn that on some days like I mourn the loss of my father. Rugby was always part of who I was, from the very beginning. Sometimes Hemi comes by and stays a few nights with us and then he’ll join me, Alistair and other locals in a pick-up game in the field. Major likes to be the ref and he’s actually good at it—probably because he doesn’t hear us if we argue with him over a play.
The loss of the game though brings other opportunities and I’m smart enough to know that I’m very, very lucky. I’ve become a spokesperson for MS here in Ireland and I help out with the organization when I can. I have endorsement deals still (except Porsche, they dropped me when they found out I can’t drive), and I’m honestly happy just living here in this house and running the day-to-day operations. It’s a humble living but it brings me a lot of joy to see guests happy (even if some leave one-star reviews because we served blood pudding for breakfast).
And then of course, there’s Valerie.
The pulse of my heart.
She’s standing before me in her wedding gown, a halter neck that shows off her gorgeous tits and creamy skin. Her dark red hair is piled high on her head and her freckles are numerous from the early summer sunshine. Even though she’s American, she looks the vision of an Irish beauty, a sprite or a fairy that troubadours sang songs about.
I’m getting choked up just looking at her, just holding her hand.
I want to be her husband more than anything.
I glance at the minister, wondering why this bloody ceremony is so long.
Let’s get on with it.
He gives me a knowing smile, as if he knows I’m getting impatient.