July 1974 proved to be yet another threshold.\u00a0 The well-known Andy Warhol image of the can of Campbell\u2019s tomato soup accompanied a short invitation to celebrate a wedding, promising a cup of broth for all.\u00a0 Now we are all assembled in the dining-living room of the double storey terrace house in Avoca villas, Gardens.\u00a0 A table of refreshments with pots of the promised soup on hand to honour this event.\u00a0 My marriage to someone calling himself C A.\u00a0 This is not his real name.\u00a0 It is Stanley.\u00a0 Stanley William is who I married that afternoon at the Magistrate\u2019s Office in Simonstown, and the details are entered in the Register of important events, like marriages and deaths.<\/p>\n
I am twenty-three and I am married.\u00a0 I glance across at my father… he had been quite nervous but jovial driving me down to Simonstown in my old VW Beetle \u2013 our last road trip together in our father-daughter roles.\u00a0 Now I am a married woman and he has acquired a son-in-law; not his choice, not his idea.. Perhaps the reason I have done this?…\u00a0 I actually asked this man, eight years my senior, to marry me.\u00a0 It was my suggestion.\u00a0 Why have I done this?<\/p>\n
He is charming.\u00a0 Witty, cruelly witty, sharp, which comes from his own low self-esteem and sense of self-worth.\u00a0 But I don\u2019t know this yet.\u00a0 Except that he did change his name, and when I fell in love with him. He was an architect, or so he told me.\u00a0 And for some reason I longed to be in a partnership with an architect.\u00a0 I had followed my father\u2019s path becoming an architect and envied my friends Vivienne and Derek, Hilary and Derek, Kate and Mark.\u00a0 I was elated when I thought I had found my ideal type in a partner.\u00a0 But C was a draughtsman.\u00a0 He had come from Natal, having reinvented himself along the way with a new name, leaving Stanley with his early disappointments and had introduced himself to me as an architect.\u00a0 It was some time later when the physical relationship had begun that I found this was not the case.\u00a0 Too late.\u00a0 And now having been enchanted, I find myself married.<\/p>\n
I look across the room past my father \u2013 more relaxed now with a few whiskies under his belt, and see my mother sitting near my piano.\u00a0 She has sent it down to me from Port Elizabeth now that I have a home and have settled into my new phase.\u00a0 This day\u00a0 is also my parents\u2019 silver wedding anniversary.\u00a0 I felt it auspicious to choose the same day twenty-five years later, for my own.\u00a0 From my perspective my parents have had a warm and loving relationship.\u00a0 I am very close to my father and know that I seek out moments of complicity with him when we discuss ideas which we share.<\/p>\n
Now I look past my parents to where the man I have just married is seated, his long strong legs outstretched in his brown denim suit.\u00a0 The bell-bottomed trousers are tight across his crotch as he leans back in his chair.\u00a0 The wide lapels of the broad-shouldered jacket, so fashionable at this time, hiding his cream shirt.\u00a0 I notice that the shirt collar is untidily crushed under the jacket collar.\u00a0 It looks unruly, and as I am observing this detail, suddenly from across the room I see B moving towards him.\u00a0 She is his attractive graphics assistant, arriving every morning to work with him in the upstairs studio next to our bedroom.<\/p>\n
I am riveted, watching something unfold.\u00a0 I know then with a deep inner knowing that I have today made a huge mistake as I witness B-anne lean forward towards him and gently take his shirt collar out from under his jacket and pat it slowly down over the lapels.\u00a0 It is almost a caress, and I see the glance he gives her in thanks.<\/p>\n
The next morning after a sleepless and tormented night, I drove his little mother who had come down from Durban for the wedding, around the peninsular in my new role as \u2018daughter-in-law, while my new husband went about his business.<\/p>\n
And then, what…? My memories are painful and blurred.\u00a0 I withdrew into my fragile inner life, acutely aware of the need to nurture and protect myself.\u00a0 My beautiful Bechstein 1901 piano stood muted in that unhappy house, a silenced witness to my wounded heart as the next few years unfolded, and I grappled with the enormity of betrayal.<\/p>\n
Betrayal is a huge word.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Marriage after completing an architectural degree. And the aftermath<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":219,"template":"","categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-218","episode_posts","type-episode_posts","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-part-1-threads-and-thresholds"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mylisteningheart.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/episode_posts\/218","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mylisteningheart.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/episode_posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mylisteningheart.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/episode_posts"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mylisteningheart.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/219"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mylisteningheart.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=218"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mylisteningheart.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=218"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mylisteningheart.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=218"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}