The Seastone Chair

The Gypsy and the Gorger

A gorger! I despised that word, but according to my fiancée’s family, that’s exactly what I was. Even being American was somehow distasteful, which made no sense whatsoever. Did they not realize that they were American too? Leave it to me to go and fall in love with the most handsome man I had ever seen.

Dustin had the most gorgeous green eyes, eyes filled with kindness, not to mention that mischievous sparkle when he looked at me. I always knew when he was up to something because of their shine, and when they shone like they were right now, I knew without a doubt something big was about to happen.

Dustin took my hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth on my palm. “So, you know my mom doesn’t approve of us, and the gypsy lifestyle is going to be hard for you to adjust to.”

“I know, but I already told you I’d do whatever needed to be done to gain her acceptance.”

Dustin jumped up from his chair. “Good. I knew you were going to say that, Lisa.”

He tugged me up from my chair and pulled me closer to the front door. “Where are we going?”

“To see my mom. Just remember, you have an out if you want one.”

On the drive over, butterflies danced in my belly as nervousness set it. The last time I saw his mother she picked a fight with me. I couldn’t let that happen again. Dustin was great though, getting me out of the situation and fighting for me.

When we pulled up to the trailer, she was standing outside making worry take over in an instant.

“What’s she doing here?” Dustin’s mom shouted. “Why bring that gorger to my house?”

Dustin got out of the truck and headed toward his mom. “Mama, please. I love her and we are getting married.”

Slowly I made my way out of the truck and stood back, waiting for the impending brawl to begin. I’d seen enough hanging around with the gypsy crowd to know that things could escalate on a dime, though somehow, Dustin always seemed to be the peacemaker.

“That’s what you want? She knows nothing of our ways, of our traditions, or how to be a gypsy wife!” his mother screamed, her finger pointing at me.

“I am willing to learn,” I said, stepping forward on trembling legs. The woman’s face was completely flushed as she stared daggers at me. I didn’t know what I could do to make her understand that I wanted to marry her son, that I would love and take care of him until my dying day.

“She ain’t pure!”

I gasped at that accusation. How could she possibly know if I were a virgin?

“Mama,” Dustin said, moving in between us.

“You are my only son and I can’t let you marry a gorger!”

I watched with a heavy heart as the anger faded from her face and tears sprang to her eyes. I didn’t want to be the one coming in between a man and his mother, but that’s what I was doing.

“What can I do to prove to you that I’d be a good wife for your son?”

Dustin turned to look at me, those dreamy green eyes wide. “Lisa, you don’t need to do anything. I trust you.”

Dustin’s mother stepped forward. “Do you really wanna prove yourself?”

I nodded.

“Gypsy tradition says if one of us marries a gorger, they must go through a traditional purity trial.”

“Mama, no. Lisa doesn’t need to do that.”

All I could think of in that moment was the out he’d given me. The last thing I wanted was to be put on trial, trying to prove myself. Would they ask about my sex life? How many people would be interrogating me? What would involve?

“You want me to go to court to prove myself?” My head was spinning at the thought of it.

Dustin and his mom both burst out laughing as if I’d said the funniest thing.

“You see,” his mom began, “this is the wife you want. One who knows nothing about our culture and traditions.”

Dustin reached for my hand. “It’s not a trial like you think. It’s an old tradition to prove that a woman is still pure. Basically, you’d have to wear a white dress and stand there while we dump red paint on you. After the paint, we would dump buckets of water on you. This a sign of purity in my culture.”

Those eyes I loved spoke to me, tempting me, making it impossible to say no to something I found ridiculous. Yet here I was, mouth open, with the words on tip of my tongue, threatening to come out.

“Okay,” I whispered. Dustin pulled me into his arms and held me tight.

“We’ll see if you show up or not. Be here tomorrow afternoon at two.” I watched from over Dustin’s shoulder as she stormed away, up the stairs and into the trailer, slamming the door firmly behind her, the whack of the metal vibrating through me.

What I had just gotten myself into?

~~~~
The next day Dustin picked me up and we drove over to his mother’s house. My parents weren’t happy that I agreed to do this, to put myself out there, but if I wanted a happy marriage, I knew I had to find a way to make his mom see I was serious and determined to learn and live in their culture.

When we pulled up in front of his mom’s house, my eyes bulged at the site of all those people waiting for me. I assumed some of his family would be here for this, but seeing the mass of people here to witness this, not to mention throw paint on me sent bile rushing up my throat. What was I doing?

Dustin parked the truck, reached over and grabbed my hand, planting a soft kiss across my knuckles. “You can do this,” he assured me.

WC:1008

What is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger!