Forgive me 2nd try Need criticism on a Reno Wedding
Posted: August 30th, 2010, 4:39 pm
Sorry for the post yesterday, I copied the wrong draft and posted the unedited copy, so I deleted it. I hope I did not wound too many eyes. (I couldn't bear to look at the count.) I have enough trouble getting it right after the seventh try. Anyway...
My novel takes place in 1976. It is about a 17 yr old runaway who fled New Jersey with her 20 yr old boyfriend. In this excerpt, they attempt to get married in Reno.
We drove for an hour more before Robert parked in front of a white brick building. The red OPEN sign in the window caught my eye. The place looked like a church, well, sort of. A small steeple with a white cross, stood right above a neon sign flashing WEDDINGS. To the right of the door was a stained glass window with the word LOVE etched between two pink hearts; black silhouette heads of a man and woman facing each other, decorated the next two adjoining windows.
“Come on. Let’s do it!” Robert said. He looked so cute with his usual infectious grin, I could have carried him over the threshold, but I restrained myself. Today was my smiley face day. Once we were married, there would be no way anyone could tear us apart. We would belong to each other forever. My heart thumped as we walked hand and hand toward the chapel of love.
Robert propped the storm door open for me. “Brides first.” He said bowing slightly and grandly gesturing with his arm for me to move forward.
I happily crossed the threshold, taking my first step toward becoming a married woman, only to stumble onto an ox-blood carpet covering every inch of visible floor space. My eyes popped. It was the gaudiest place I’d ever seen. I felt queazy staring at the clashing Pepto-Bismol colored hearts spattered all over the walls and dangling from the ceiling. But, there was more. Just when I thought the place couldn’t be tackier, I eyed a humongous fake gold heart encapsulating a white podium, where I presumed the vows of matrimony took place.
No sooner, had the door rattled shut behind us, than a short fat man in a black appeared. “Hello, how may I help you?” He asked clearing his throat.
He didn’t look like a minister at all to me. His fat lips puckered out as if they were squeezed out of position by his chubby cheeks and he had a funniest looking comb over I’d ever seen. I glanced down at the floor, then at his nose, and then over at the wall, to curb the urge to stare directly at his head and giggle. One big gust of wind and he’d have hair down below his shoulder, at least on one side. By the shocked expression on his face, I was sure we didn’t look like his regular clients either. Robert’s uneven hair had grown well below his shoulders and his multi-patched faded jeans looked ragged. I was in dirty green down jacket and carpenter pants. We looked oddly out of place in this pristine pink house of horrors. The fat man’s phony smile didn’t fool me, I could see the fear in his eyes. I figured he thought we were going to rob the joint.
“We want to get married.” Robert said grinning from ear to ear, breaking the momentary silence that lingered in the air like a foul odor.
The fat man’s let out a guarded sigh, his stance relaxed somewhat, as he dabbed at his forehead with a white handkerchief. “Well son, you are in the right place.” He said.
“How much does it cost?” Robert asked.
“We have different packages. It all depends what you want.” He offered Robert a brochure.
“We just want the piece of paper, nothing special.”
“Our most economical package, which includes the ceremony, complementary music and the marriage certificate runs only twenty-five dollars.”
Robert’s jaw dropped open. “Twenty-five buck! That’s expensive.”
“Well, son it is for life. We wouldn’t want you to make a hasty decision.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Robert said shaking his head. I could see he was still trying to swallow the cost of the whole thing.
Seated at a nearby desk sat a woman with tortoise-shell glasses, an up-do, and an air of superiority. She eyed us up and down cautiously.
“Come on in and have a seat. Miss Swan will get your paperwork ready for you.” The fat man said, leading us to two chairs directly in front of the woman.
Miss Swan gave us a big fake smile and a contract. “Fill out these forms, and in the meantime, I will need to see your driver’s license.”
“Um. I don’t drive.” I said reflexively.
Do you have birth certificate or some other form of identification?”
I pulled my birth certificate out of my blue bag. Thankfully, I had been smart enough to pack it when I left.
The woman shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry. We cannot marry you. You're not old enough.”
I stared at the woman baffled. “I thought everyone could get married in Nevada.”
“Not until you are eighteen. You have to have your parent's permission.” She informed us in firm tone.
“That’s the problem. Our parents don’t want us to get married. Can’t you help us?” Robert pled.
“Sorry, the law requires you to be eighteen to marry without parental consent. Have you tried Tennessee?” She added with a hint of sarcasm. I was unnerved by the suspicious look on her face. I was afraid she might call the cops.
“Let’s go Robert. I will ask my parents tonight.” I said, covering our tracks
Robert looked at me funny for a moment, stiffened, and shifted his eyes toward the door signaling me he was on to my ruse.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t help you.” The fat man called after us as we fled the pink house of horrors.
Robert and I beat it to the car and not a minute too soon as far as I was concerned. I didn’t want to get married by a fat guy with a bad comb-over in that ridiculous pink nightmare of a place anyway.
Robert draped his arm over my shoulder. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out, I tried.” He said regretfully. His eyes clouded over and I knew her meant it.
“Don’t worry about it.” I snorted. “That place was so gaudy, I was sure Elvis Presley was gonna come through the door in a white sequined jumpsuit to marry us himself.”
Robert let out a loud belly laugh. “Mary, what an imagination you have.” He said, shaking his head. “Elvis. Ha! That's a good one.”
My novel takes place in 1976. It is about a 17 yr old runaway who fled New Jersey with her 20 yr old boyfriend. In this excerpt, they attempt to get married in Reno.
We drove for an hour more before Robert parked in front of a white brick building. The red OPEN sign in the window caught my eye. The place looked like a church, well, sort of. A small steeple with a white cross, stood right above a neon sign flashing WEDDINGS. To the right of the door was a stained glass window with the word LOVE etched between two pink hearts; black silhouette heads of a man and woman facing each other, decorated the next two adjoining windows.
“Come on. Let’s do it!” Robert said. He looked so cute with his usual infectious grin, I could have carried him over the threshold, but I restrained myself. Today was my smiley face day. Once we were married, there would be no way anyone could tear us apart. We would belong to each other forever. My heart thumped as we walked hand and hand toward the chapel of love.
Robert propped the storm door open for me. “Brides first.” He said bowing slightly and grandly gesturing with his arm for me to move forward.
I happily crossed the threshold, taking my first step toward becoming a married woman, only to stumble onto an ox-blood carpet covering every inch of visible floor space. My eyes popped. It was the gaudiest place I’d ever seen. I felt queazy staring at the clashing Pepto-Bismol colored hearts spattered all over the walls and dangling from the ceiling. But, there was more. Just when I thought the place couldn’t be tackier, I eyed a humongous fake gold heart encapsulating a white podium, where I presumed the vows of matrimony took place.
No sooner, had the door rattled shut behind us, than a short fat man in a black appeared. “Hello, how may I help you?” He asked clearing his throat.
He didn’t look like a minister at all to me. His fat lips puckered out as if they were squeezed out of position by his chubby cheeks and he had a funniest looking comb over I’d ever seen. I glanced down at the floor, then at his nose, and then over at the wall, to curb the urge to stare directly at his head and giggle. One big gust of wind and he’d have hair down below his shoulder, at least on one side. By the shocked expression on his face, I was sure we didn’t look like his regular clients either. Robert’s uneven hair had grown well below his shoulders and his multi-patched faded jeans looked ragged. I was in dirty green down jacket and carpenter pants. We looked oddly out of place in this pristine pink house of horrors. The fat man’s phony smile didn’t fool me, I could see the fear in his eyes. I figured he thought we were going to rob the joint.
“We want to get married.” Robert said grinning from ear to ear, breaking the momentary silence that lingered in the air like a foul odor.
The fat man’s let out a guarded sigh, his stance relaxed somewhat, as he dabbed at his forehead with a white handkerchief. “Well son, you are in the right place.” He said.
“How much does it cost?” Robert asked.
“We have different packages. It all depends what you want.” He offered Robert a brochure.
“We just want the piece of paper, nothing special.”
“Our most economical package, which includes the ceremony, complementary music and the marriage certificate runs only twenty-five dollars.”
Robert’s jaw dropped open. “Twenty-five buck! That’s expensive.”
“Well, son it is for life. We wouldn’t want you to make a hasty decision.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Robert said shaking his head. I could see he was still trying to swallow the cost of the whole thing.
Seated at a nearby desk sat a woman with tortoise-shell glasses, an up-do, and an air of superiority. She eyed us up and down cautiously.
“Come on in and have a seat. Miss Swan will get your paperwork ready for you.” The fat man said, leading us to two chairs directly in front of the woman.
Miss Swan gave us a big fake smile and a contract. “Fill out these forms, and in the meantime, I will need to see your driver’s license.”
“Um. I don’t drive.” I said reflexively.
Do you have birth certificate or some other form of identification?”
I pulled my birth certificate out of my blue bag. Thankfully, I had been smart enough to pack it when I left.
The woman shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry. We cannot marry you. You're not old enough.”
I stared at the woman baffled. “I thought everyone could get married in Nevada.”
“Not until you are eighteen. You have to have your parent's permission.” She informed us in firm tone.
“That’s the problem. Our parents don’t want us to get married. Can’t you help us?” Robert pled.
“Sorry, the law requires you to be eighteen to marry without parental consent. Have you tried Tennessee?” She added with a hint of sarcasm. I was unnerved by the suspicious look on her face. I was afraid she might call the cops.
“Let’s go Robert. I will ask my parents tonight.” I said, covering our tracks
Robert looked at me funny for a moment, stiffened, and shifted his eyes toward the door signaling me he was on to my ruse.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t help you.” The fat man called after us as we fled the pink house of horrors.
Robert and I beat it to the car and not a minute too soon as far as I was concerned. I didn’t want to get married by a fat guy with a bad comb-over in that ridiculous pink nightmare of a place anyway.
Robert draped his arm over my shoulder. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out, I tried.” He said regretfully. His eyes clouded over and I knew her meant it.
“Don’t worry about it.” I snorted. “That place was so gaudy, I was sure Elvis Presley was gonna come through the door in a white sequined jumpsuit to marry us himself.”
Robert let out a loud belly laugh. “Mary, what an imagination you have.” He said, shaking his head. “Elvis. Ha! That's a good one.”