Who's Your Daddy

Mallory sat on atop the lowered toilet seat. Her voluminous, white Chantilly lace, wedding gown, billowed around her like a cloud, engulfing her petite body. “I’m fine Mami, Give me a minute.” Mallory answered, with a false note of gaiety in her voice.

A woman’s wedding is usually one of the happiest days of her life. And today should have no exception for Mallory. She’d dated Wesley Dubois, her husband to be, over the past four and a half years. During three of those years she dated other men on the side, without Wesley’s knowledge of course. Mallory didn’t explore the reasons deeply and always returned to Wesley.

Mallory is young, so perhaps her cheating is due to boredom, or maybe even a character flaw.

To be honest she didn’t share an overwhelming, deep undying love, or passion for Wesley. Their lovemaking was perfunctory at best. Wesley didn’t make her heartbeat quicken, or her toes curl. Instead He was comfortable to be with, like a tattered sweater or old house-slippers.

Wesley is a tall, portly sized man. His oversized football shaped head is shaved, and he wears a tiny hoop earring his right ear. Wesley is of Creole descent, light skinned, with a thin moustache above his lips.

When he was a small child, his people migrated to the north from a small town outside New Orleans. Wesley like most of his clan is a go-getter, and over-achiever. He’s been poised to take his place in the millionaire club by age thirty-five, since he was ten years old.

Since Wesley laid eyes on Mallory, she has been his first and only choice for a wife, much to his family’s chagrin. They feel she’s too quiet and dreamy. Despite the family’s complaints, Wesley loves Mallory and has vowed to give his Lady Love, the best life had to offer, along with his everlasting love.

Mallory on the other hand, was not nearly as ambitious as her groom. She didn’t have any preconceived notions about what she’s bringing to the table. She just hopes in time, that’ she’ll grow to really love Wesley.

The blushing bride is the oldest child of Marguerite, of African American and Latino descent, and Roy Scott, an African American man. Mallory has been blessed with the best of her parent’s genetic makeup.

She is petite in stature like her fiery mother, and her body is toned from working out. Mallory sometimes fights the battle of the bulge, but she was determined to fit into a size five dress, down two dress sizes since Wesley popped the question, over a romantic dinner at her favorite restaurant.

Marguerite is petite and thin, with a small bone structure. When she’s becomes upset, she lapses into her second language Spanish.

Roy is a handsome brown skinned man, of medium height and built, and wears his wooly hair cut short, and thick, black-rimmed glasses.

Earlier on her special day, Mallory’s hair stylist coiled her mane of long, thick, reddish brown hair, atop her head, threaded with twigs of baby’s breath. Her light skinned oval face is stunningly beautiful. Mallory’s chocolate brown eyes are large and doe-shape. Her lips are pouty, and sensual, courtesy of Roy.

Though mother and daughter share a fairly close relationship, Mallory couldn’t bring herself to talk to her mother about her uncertainties regarding marriage to Wesley.

Mallory’s parents now in their late forties, share a stormy, yet passionate marriage. It wasn’t unusual for Mallory and her younger sister Anitra, to observe their parents, stealing a kiss, or Roy fondling Marguerite, chest or behind, as she stood at the stove cooking a meal, or watching a television program.

Anitra, younger than Mallory by two years, resembles her father in looks. She taller than Mallory, standing five feet six inches, and takes after the Scott side of the family in built. Her complexion is medium brown complexion. Anitra’s hair is straighter in texture and thinner than her big sis.

Anitra and Mallory understood their parents, are somewhat selfish, and their lives revolve around each other. Still they are kind, affectionate people, who have raised their children as best as they could.

Roy and Marguerite are still passionately in love with each other, and even after thirty years of marriage, can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Roy still refers to Marguerite as his bride.

Mallory and Anitra were uncomfortable with their parent’s displays of affection, during their teen years.

Later the sisters became more accepting of their parent’s ardor, after reaching their adult years. Anitra has often told Mallory, they should be so lucky as their parents in love.

Mallory rose from the toilet seat, and looked at her visage in the track lighted mirror. Apprehension and sorrow are stamped on her face. She stuck out her tongue and tried smiling, but the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, wouldn’t allow the smile to reach her lips. Mallory reached upward to rub the area between her eyes, then her hand dropped midway. Can’t do that, I’ll mess up my makeup.

Marguerite is starting to become nervous about her daughter’s tardiness. Clad in a chiffon turquoise, two-pieced suit, with a matching feathered hat atop her head, she rapped on the door again. Marguerite’s forehead is shiny with perspiration. “Mal, it’s time honey. We’re already running behind schedule. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re having second thoughts it’s normal, marriage is a big step. Wesley loves you, everything will work out.”

Mallory reached up and smoothed down the side of her head. Her hair was starting to curl at the edges, like it’s prone to do. She stared at herself in the mirror on more time. Her lips parted as she uttered softly, Tyler.

Her face crumpled woefully and she closed her eyes. Mallory looked into the mirror again, a false smile wreathed her face. She sighed in resignation and unlocked the door. It was now time for this show to begin. Yes, I'll marry Wesley.