|The wedding donut? Maple Bacon|
He is alone, heading home 36 hours after getting married in a Portland donut shop--Voodoo Donuts, of course, but not the original one which he declared a "little grotty for that kind of thing."
His bride waits stateside for the visa that a marriage to a Briton might afford. He says he feels lucky he can afford the legal fees and visa processing charges and thinks that he can hack the lonely six-month wait for his Voodoo Donut bride to join him in their new life. He hopes to be a barrister by then, someone who will work on issues to better society. He likes the pomp of being a barrister, wig, robes and all.
He realises his choices aren't for everybody; knows he is not the norm. A boarding student from the age of 15 with a family posted on another continent, he learned to rely on himself. In law school, he marvelled that his university cohorts struggled with laundry, groceries and other realities of being an adult. He had long since learned to separate colours and pre-treat stains.
His mother initially refused to attend the wedding (If you think I am going to watch my only son get married in a donut shop...) but eventually was talked into a gold sari to step into her son's made-for-Portland wedding. Her friends convinced her that she might not want her only son to get married without her.
His new sister-in-law refused to come. It wasn't, she thought, spiritually safe to get married at Voodoo Donuts.
|Nothing like Herman Hess to weigh down a newlywed|