My tie is strangling me and my pants seem to be a size too small. I am a married man. I have no idea how to feel. Danka looks magnificent in her grandmother's wedding dress, her veil slightly askew and the smile on her face makes me feel high faster then any drug. I kiss her, wanting to never stop, but my watch catches on her hair and I have to stop to untangle it. Her hair, her long beautiful hair, so soft in my hand. I feel so incredibly confused and completely in love with the gorgeous, smart and incredible woman who is my wife and I can barely wait to be alone with her. But we have to wait for whole eight hours, and right now it seems like an eternity.
Everything seems strangely fairytale and ethereal, and I feel like I will burst from happiness, die from the happiness alone without experiencing what I know is to come this evening. Interrupting my quite arousing fantasy involving me, Danka and no clothes, my mother embraces me, her mascara smudged by the happy tears. I blush and readjust my pants while she's not looking down.
"My little Luka, getting married!" she exclaims before a renewed stream of tears flows down her face. Her description of me as her "little Luka" is somewhat outdated, since she doesn't even reach my shoulder, but I guess I'll be forever little for her. My father appears from the crowd and embraces me, overcome with joy – after all, I am the first son to be married, first one who will probably pass on the Kovac name.
"Congratulations, son." I just nod to him, too overcome with the moment to talk. He moves on to Danka and kisses her on the cheek. She returns the kiss and bows a little.
"I'm honored to be your daughter," she says and he almost glows with pride and happiness.
"And I am honored too, my dear. Janko is waiting over there to drive you both to the restaurant." He points to the curb, where Janko's red Volkswagen is parked somewhat illegally. We fight our way to Janko's car and get in. Janko leans back, lipstick on his ear, and kisses Danijela, then kisses me. I kiss him back, and we exchange backslaps that leave us both slightly breathless. We feel a bit overcome by emotions and Janko blurts "Fuck you, little brother, you know how to pick women," before kissing me again.
Janko smells like cigarettes and French perfume of the owner of the lipstick on his ear, and the feeling of the absurd, ethereal happiness returns again. Janko carefully steers the car out of the crowd of friends and relatives, and soon we are on the way to the restaurant where there is much drinking, eating and dancing to be done by our relatives and friends on our behalf.
We slowly ride through Zagreb, the cars of the wedding party reminding us of their existence by energetic honking. Janko is not be outdone and presses so hard on the horn we are afraid that we will go deaf before we get to the restaurant. The cars driving in the opposite lane join in the congratulations, and soon all we can hear is a continuous honk from several dozens of horns. A girl sticks her head out of a car window and screams to me: "Is your brother single, sexy?" Janko replies in the affirmative and shouts his phone number to her. The girl blows him a kiss and lays on the horn, joining in the congratulatory noise. I blush slightly and Danka laughs, giving me a kiss that makes me immediately forget about the girl.
As we arrive, the after-wedding party is already looking like a small riot. It seems that every single living relative on both sides of both families is here, from young to old. I shudder slightly when I am almost attacked by a group of Danka's adoring aunts, and escape them just to fall into clutches of my own Teta Marija, who embraces me and drones on about children. I find a polite excuse and join Danka at the table, and we burst out laughing when we take in each other's hassled facial expressions.
"Where they talking to you about children as well, Danka?" I ask after I stop laughing.
"Yeah. But they probably were not giving you advice on childbirth. Teta Milka decided to read me a lecture on it..." I shudder slightly and she winks at me, pointing at someone behind me.
"Be on alert – my Baka Lela is heading this way and you know how she loves her granddaughter's "little" boyfriend…." Before I can escape a dusty candy is thrust into my hand and Danka's grandmother is making goo-goo eyes at me. I am definitely going to revenge myself for this….
A half an hour later, the polite dinner talk has degenerated into several conversations in several different languages and dialects that are becoming quite heated. I am talking to my cousin Floriana in a mix of Italian and Croatian about my plans of going to medical school, with my Baka Judita in Split dialect about the same and switching between several other dialects in order to answer the numerous questions posed by the horde of relatives. From our conversation an outsider would guess that my relatives are seeing me for the first time in their lives, but actually, most of them have run into me in the last month. All of this really gives me a good mental picture of what Babylon must have been like before the division of languages...
My father whistles to attract everyone's attention, and when everyone does not quiet down, Dina yells "Shut up!" so loudly that someone's grandmother falls off a chair. The relatives quiet down and stare at him, some taking this opportunity to dig into the food.
"We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Luka and Danijela," my father starts, smiling nervously at the ravenous crowds in front of him. "I propose a toast – let us drink for the newlyweds, and wish them a long, happy life together."
Everyone drinks to that, and then
to our future children, our children's children, our parents, our wedding night,
our honeymoon and so on, until everyone is more than somewhat tipsy and 100
liters of wine are gone along with several good-sized hams. After that, everyone
starts dancing, or rather jumping around happily to the energetic music played
by the band. My grandfather Hrvoje is dancing with my niece Kristijana, who is
frowning at him, probably itching from her formal dress. Janko's doing some kind
of obscene movements with a blonde in a short skirt over in the corner and my
father and my mother are holding hands and looking at each other, smiling.
The band plays away, and I drag Danka into the crowd of swirling bodies. She
laughs and throws her shoes off, and we dance among our relatives, feeling as
though we are alone together and no one else can see us, feeling insanely happy,
naïve and wise at the same time. Everything is before us -
- after all, we do have all the time in the world, don't we?