CHAPTER FOUR
The Hindi word for sister is bahen.
Sarah, my big sister, left her home early in the morning to spend the day with me. Her journey from the small town of Leigh to Auckland had taken her about an hour. We were excited to have a sister’s day out searching for a dress to wear to my registry office wedding. There was no need to go to a bridal shop because I had decided to buy a simple but elegant dress in creamy-white, one that I could also wear again on other special occasions.
We entered the mall and Sarah laced her arm through mine as we headed for the first dress shop we saw. I looked at her, my lovely sister standing by my side, her cheeks were shining and I realised she was positively glowing. Her baby bump was just beginning to show and even in these early stages of pregnancy, happiness seemed to radiate from her.
“Julie," she said, "You have always dreamed of a white wedding. I remember when you were little, you looked so cute as you clipped a white pillowcase onto your hair, pretending it was your veil; you pranced up the hallway as if it was the aisle. Are you really sure this is the way you want to have your English wedding?"
Right from the beginning, Sarah had given me her shoulder to lean on, and sometimes to cry on regarding my relationship with Kishore.
"At the end of the day Sarah, does all that really matter? Kishore and I love each other dearly and as long as we are happy that’s what counts."
Sarah nodded, although she didn’t look completely convinced. “Alright Julie, but you are not buying a dress unless I approve of it first.”
After no success at the first shop, we traipsed to the next… and the next and the next. Sarah and I scrutinised dress after dress on the clothes racks and I, at every shop, with three or four choices slung over my arm, headed to the changing rooms. Emerging from the doors, I stood in front of the mirror again and again, turning my head this way and that, while Sarah made encouraging comments. "Oh, Julie that one is nice," or "That looks lovely."
Every dress in any shade of white was examined - ivory, cream, pearl, champagne… but for some reason none of them had the right feel about them. It soon got to the point where I didn’t know if Sarah was uttering flattering comments because each dress looked nice on me, or she was sick of searching and was trying to get me to buy one, any one.
After three hours we were exhausted and starving, so we decided it was time to recharge our batteries. We chose a café, selected our food from the display cabinets, paid, found ourselves an empty table amongst the throng, and collapsed into chairs in a frazzled heap. Barely speaking, we quickly munched our way through salad sandwiches and gulped down fruit juice.
After we had finished eating, Sarah and I stared into space for a few minutes. I was sure the same images were circulating through her head as mine, white dress after white dress, revolving around and around like taunting, fluttering ghosts. Eventually, coming out of our trance we looked at one another and let out a simultaneous heavy sigh as we realised that we could not delay the inevitable any longer, and we left the cafe knowing we had to get back to the search.
Sarah scoured the racks of the next shop for white dresses while I once again headed to the changing rooms with another load over my arm. But I knew, with each choice, something was wrong. A niggle in the back of my head told me that redheads look pale in white - any shade of white.
Another hour went by and we were down to the last dress shop in the mall. I was getting desperate, despondent, and beginning to think I would never find a dress. As I returned three more rejections to a shop assistant, I saw, from the corner of my eye, a dress proudly displayed on a mannequin on the other side of the store. I blinked, was it my imagination or was a shaft of light shining directly on it, indicating it, telling me it was the one?
I almost skipped as I headed towards the dress. At my request, a shop assistant took it off the mannequin and I dashed into a changing room. As I slipped the shimmering fabric over my head and put my arms through the sleeves, I looked at myself in the mirror as I smoothed the dress and did a little twirl. It was perfect. I instantly knew that this was it, this was the dress I was going to get married in.
As I appeared out of the changing room door, I could hear the triumphant sound of a gospel choir singing, 'Hallelujah!'
Sarah had abandoned her search to come to see what I was up to. "It does look good, Julie, but… really, for your wedding, are you sure?"
"Yes Sarah absolutely, without a doubt, this is it."
"Okay…," she said not sounding as confident as me but maybe she was more relieved that the exhausting dress hunt was finally over. "If you are sure, then let’s buy it."