The City of Rossford

“Hey, people!” Russell shouted as he entered. Mark clapped a hand over his brother’s lips in a shushing sound and Radha just turned around and raised an exasperated eyebrow, her black hair making a slow turn with her.

“Sorry,” Russell whispered.

“How ‘bout you get dressed?” Mark suggested.

Russell shrugged and marched to the back of the apartment while Radha tried to concentrate.

Omuuuuu

Ommmmm

Rama Krishna rama Krishna ram

Om shani om shanti om

The drumbeats filled the apartment, and as Krishna Das sang, Radha read on from the little gold paperback book.

May my word be one with my thought,

and my thought

Be one with my word

O Lord of Love,

Let me know you in my being.

May I know the truth of the scriptures

and translate them into my life

Each day.

The apartment on Coll Street held the rich scent of Nag Champa, and on the wedding day of one of her best girlfriends, Radha Hatangady put down the book and sang with the CD:

Je ram ge ram

Ge ge ram!

She rama ge a ram ge ge ram!

Here was the deal: after a long time of denying everything, after a lifetime of white people seeing her dark face and expecting something exotic, she had decided that she didn’t know what they were expecting, but that it was time to figure things out for herself. And she wanted to give this whole God thing a whirl. At twenty-six going on twenty-seven, as Krishna Das filled the house she thought how she might have allowed other people and the expectations she assumed they had to cheat her out of religion. She also hadn’t know that many other Indians. The ones she did know were Christians. Radha felt that she would very much like to not be a Christian. She didn’t want to join a church, and so she’d been putting things together for herself.

Putting things together for herself meant that her nominally Catholic boyfriend, Mark Turner, was coming into the living room with a cup of coffee and a cigarette, the cigarette which he placed behind the shell of her ear and whispering: “We’ve gotta get dressed for the wedding. But I’m gonna take Russell home first.”

She nodded. Figuring things out meant that while they sang

Ge ram ge ram

Ge ge ram

Ge Ram

she sat… uh, Indian style, before a jerry rigged altar with an icon of Lord Krishna and flanking him a little crushed marble Goddess Saravati and resin sculpture of Lord Ganesh. On the other side of the room was a crucifix and a Blessed Virgin, and Radha told Mark as he got up, “Put some incense under Mary, and light a candle.”

Just then there was a hard knock at the door.

Radha rolled her eyes, and pushing herself up from before the altar she fumed: “Some people are so fucking rude,” as she opened the door.

“Hello?” she addressed the police officer who stood at the door.

“Is this the apartment of Mark Turner?”

“This is my apartment,” Radha said. “Mark is my boyfriend.”

“Well, sorry ma’am,” the cop said awkwardly. “We’re looking for one Russell Turner.”

“Wha?” she started, then turned around.

“Officer,” Mark came to the door: “Is there a problem?”

Radha turned around and said: “Russell!”

Russell, in the jeans he had just pulled on, arrived, his eyes bugged out.

“Are you Russell Turner?” the officer said.

“Uh… ” Russell said for some time before blinking to answer: “Yes.”

“We’ve gotta take you in.”

“This is ridiculous!” Mark began. “This is—”

But the officer continued, “I’m sorry, you’ve been charged with the rape of one Robin Netteson.”

“This was my mother’s veil,” Lula said.

“And so you know it must be ancient,” Fenn told Layla.

“Why are you here?” his grandmother asked, raising an eyebrow, but Fenn did not answer, and he did not leave.

“Hoot asked if he could the other night,” Adele said, while Anne was pinning Layla’s hair into the veil.

“And you told him he could go to—”

“Mama!” Layla looked at Anne, who shrugged.

“I told him something to that affect,” Adele said, though.

There was a tap on the sacristy door, but it was merely symbolic because Danasia came walking in with Dena. Leroy and Nell.

“Something old,” Nell said, holding out a necklace.

“Oh, my…” Adele began. “I remember that.”

“Of course you do, it was Claudia’s.” Nell said.

“It’s beautiful,” Layla began, and to her surprise her eyes stung.

“My mother wore this every day of her life.”Nell elaborated. “When someone talked about burying her with it she said that was stupid.”

“She said,” Adele remember, “this shit is too good to wear underground.”

They chuckled, but the chuckling had tears, and Dena added, “It came all the way from Scotland. My great grandmother wore it, right?”

Nell nodded while the heart locket was placed on Layla’s breast.

“And this,” Dena said, handing over a chain of watery blue stones, “was Barb’s confirmation rosary. So it’s blue and old. And yours.”

“What?”

Dena nodded. “It was going to go to Meredith, but they both wanted you to have it.”

“I can’t cry,” Layla said, straightening up. “Cause my makeup’s applied and I don’t have that good shit they sell on TV that doesn’t run.”

She fanned her wet eyes and smiled tightly. Then, taking a breath to calm herself, she said, “Something blue, something old. Borrowed?”

“I told you we should have rented the wedding gown,” Dena joked.

“Wait,” Fenn said, suddenly de-ringing his finger.

“Yes. Uh… put it on this finger. Your middle finger’s big enough.”

“It’s your…”

“Its my commitment ring,” Fenn said. “About a hundred years ago when me and Todd got married at Saint John Crysostom’s I thought it was silly and sentimental and didn’t take it very seriously. But it means a lot to me now, so just remember,” Fenn told her, “this shit is not yours to keep. It’s borrowed.”

They all laughed, more to loosen their nerves than anything else, and then Layla sighed and took a breath.

“So… Bryant and Tom have the music handled?” she said to her uncle.

“Yup.”

“Well, then… I guess we should get this party started.”

“Look at you,” Layla said, placing the little spray of flowers in Maia’s hands.

From her chair, Layla looked up at Tara. “She’s a princess.”

“That’s not from me,” Tara said, simply. “I don’t have a princess bone in my body.”

“Can I have your veil, Layla?” Maia asked her.

“Uh…”

“Tell her no,” Tara said frankly. “She thinks she’s so cute no one can refuse her.”

“I am cute,” Maia said.

“Maia Meradan,” Tara told her daughter, “go out to the sacristy and wait with the ringbearer.”

“The ringbearer’s Dylan, right?”

“Today we call him the ringbearer,” her mother said.

“Right,” Maia nodded.

As the walnut colored girl walked away she tugged on Dena’s hem.

“Dena,” she told her cousin, “you know Dylan?”

“Well, we all do, Maia.”

The little girl nodded and then stage whispered, “I’m going to marry him,” and walked off.

“Can Fenn’s son marry Todd’s daughter?” Dena wondered.

“They’re not really related,” Layla said. “It cuts down on in-laws, and it will make a hell of a story. So, more to the point, where the hell are all my bridesmaids?”

“Meaning where is Radha?” Claire said.

“Exactly?”

“You know,” Danasia mused, “I don’t think there’s a single maid among us.”

“Hey!” Meredith put her hand up indignantly.

“Excepting Meredith,” Dena threw in.

“Here she is,” Meredith pointed out.

Radha was running up the corridor, the cream colored satin dress hanging from over her shoulder.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” she told Layla. “You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thanks. But why do you look panicked?”

“Police station,” Radha said. Then, debating if she wanted to state all of her business in front of Dena, her sister, Claire, Danasia and Tara, she finally said:

“Matt’s brother was arrested. For what happened to Robin Netteson.”

Meredith put a hand over her mouth, and then she said, “Can I go for a moment?”

Beyond them, in the choir loft, was the end of Bryant’s elaborate organ fantasy, and Layla was momentarily lost. She shook her head and said, “Tara, can you tell Bryant to do one more piece before we start?”

As Tara was walking off, Layla said to Meredith, “And you go and tell Sheridan and Chay whatever you have to.”

She went to hug Radha and then she said, “Oh, God. Oh, shit.”