Lifeline 41

Printer-friendly version

CHAPTER 41
I had a hangover the next morning, but we had the shower, as Mam had promised, and I spent more than a few minutes soaking, which gave me time to settle my mood and my behaviour. Not my day, much as I might have wished things had followed a different course, but in a way the day actually was mine. Two people I loved would be happy, so suck it up, woman, and be happy for them. After all, didn’t I have Class?

Someone had found a bike for my parents, and Squint, the club’s Sergeant at Arms, had a pillion place for me, so it was leather, jeans, cut-off and para boots for me rather than frock and stupid hat. We thundered out of the club compound in a long line of stomach-tingling noise to the Registry Office, where they held a surprisingly quick ticking of legal boxes, including me signing as a witness. Once again, I was carried back to the clubhouse, and as for stupid hats, helmets were only remarkable for the complete lack of them, even though I had spotted two marked police cars sitting at the side of the road. I wore my shades to save my eyes from the wind, but like everyone else’s, my hair flew free in the speed of our passage, and I had to attack it with a brush after stepping off Squint’s Bonneville. Smoke was rising from behind the main building, as a couple of prospects tended to a whole pig on a spit over a wood fire.

Into the clubhouse, where the seating had been rearranged into rows. I was shown to a seat at the front, almost central, and left for a while to my thoughts as the other places filled up with wild-looking men and hard-faced women, almost all in leather and jeans. Club colours included at least two other MC’s, as well as a sprinkling of MCC front patches.

Mam dropped into the seat to my right, Dad into the one beside her, and she took my hand, smiling gently.

“Just follow the others, love. You’ll be fine. How are you feeling?”

“Their day, Mam. Theirs, not mine. It’s what Carl said”

“Which was?”

“Class. Got to show class, for their sakes. Their day, like you just said”

She looked over her shoulder to her own man for a second, then turned back to me.

“Carl is right, love. You’ve always had class. I saw that when we first met”

“I was in shit state back then, though”

“No, love. No you weren’t. You had got out, on your own. Nobody helped you there. You were alive, and you were free”

I found myself laughing, much to my own surprise.

“Yeah, and then I threw up the first meal you ever gave me!”

“Hardly bloody surprising, was it? Anyway, this session now, OK? You wait with Carl. He has done us another honour, and asked Ken to stand by him, so just follow what he does, even if you don’t understand the man doing the service. You will be fine, love/ Ah! Here’s the man himself”

‘The man himself’ turned out to be someone with even more facial hair than Gandalf, dressed in a long robe of what looked like unbleached linen, trimmed with leather. It was inscribed with what I recognised as runes, and he wore a small hammer on a simple leather thong around his neck.

“You will be Debbie, then. Badger. Good to see you again. May the Sky Father and weather smile on you, always”

“And on you, Brother. My daughter Deb is nervous”

The obvious priest smiled warmly at me, taking both of my hands in his.

“Simply place the ribbon below their hand, then take your end diagonally over the backs, under their wrists, and leave your father to tie the ends. Then stand and be there for your sister and her man. I will ask you some questions, to which the answers will be obvious. That is all”

He looked up again, and past me.

“The warrior is here. Now we await his shield maiden”

Dad rose, and moved over to stand on the other side of Carl, who had plaited his beard, and held a nasty-looking axe, clearly not of the type for splitting logs or lopping branches. I rose, leaving a gap between myself and Carl, as the priest moved into place before us.

“WHO COMES TO THIS PLACE AS AN ARMED MAN?”

Carl raised his weapon over his head.

“I DO!”

The priest’s voice remained loud, but he no longer shouted, looking past us to what could only be called a congregation.

“Is this a time of battle?”

There was a general bellow of response.

“NO!”

“Then do we have a shield bearer to hold this weapon until the time Tyr will ordain as a battle day?”

I heard Rosie’s shout of “Yes!” from behind me, and forced myself to keep my eyes fixed before me. Gandalf led her into place between me and Carl, squeezing my shoulder before stepping back. Our priest locked eyes with Rosie.

“Do you bear this warrior’s shield?”

“No! I bear my own”

He nodded.

“Do you offer its shelter to this warrior?”

“All I have is his. My shield is his shield”

The priest’s gaze flashed across to Carl.

“Are your weapons borne for this shield maiden?”

“Aye! And all else I own”

Carl handed the axe to Rosie, who held it over her own head for a few seconds, to acclamation from the crowd. The priest looked past us all, another smile.

“This is a warrior! This is his shield maiden! If one falls, the other must be steadfast to the end! Does this warrior have brothers?”

“YES!”

“If he falls, will his brothers stand over him?”

“YES!”

The smile this time was broader, and he turned his attention back to the four of us, as we stood before him.

“This maid and man have a brother and sister here. When their shield splinters, when they can no longer wield their weapons, will you be their shelter, their strong right arm?”

As he had advised, the answer was an obvious one, and along with Dad I answered “Yes”, and the robed man nodded before holding up a ribbon in Welsh flag colours.

“My warrior and shield maiden: will you bind yourselves to each other?”

They both agreed, and I followed Dad’s lead as the ribbon went under, over and around their joined hands, Dad finishing the process off with a knot. Another nod from the priest, as he laid a hand on top of the binding.

“Is there anyone here who would deny that this is a right and fitting thing?”

“NO!”

There was a twinkle in the man’s eye, and in a superb prison whisper, lips held still, he murmured, “Nobody with a death wish, then”, before raising his voice one last time.

“Your brother and sister are now wed! May the All-Father, Thor, Tyr and Freyja smile on and shelter you both. ARE WE DONE HERE?”

Another bellow from the crowd, this time of “YES!”, and he stepped back, this time with a grin that threatened to split his head in two.

“Where is my pint, then?”

Laughter greeted him, as Gandalf appeared with a real cow horn filled to the brim with brown liquid.

“I pay the tithe of the maiden’s father. Felinfoel do you, mate?”

I could see the man behind the priest now, as he took a long draught from the horn.

“It’ll do for starters, Gandalf. Where’s the boy?”

“Bar duty for now, Rolf. I’m keeping an eye on him till later, then he can get as pissed as he likes. Let him off the leash now and he’d be wrecked by seven o’clock”

“Don’t trust him?”

“Not him I don’t trust, but his judgement. You OK, Deb? The hog roast is ready if you want to line your stomach before hitting the bar”

“Sounds good to me. What’s the plan?”

“Stage out the back past the fire pit, and two bloody good bands. Hard standing, so no worries about heels and soggy grass. Rosie’s off getting changed, so she will expect the same from you. Only one downside to things tonight”

“That is?”

He roared with laughter, clearly happy with how the day had gone.

“No straights here to outrage!”

A firm hug, and then he was off to his own tent, as I fought myself into as composed a mood as I could manage. After all, if that sort of happiness could never be there for me, who was I to begrudge it for two people I loved so deeply? I made my way back to the old van, then into the big tent, where I changed into short skirt and high boots, band T-shirt and cut-off. Mam saw me as I sorted my little handbag, and took it from me.

“No charge for us tonight, love. Wedding present from the club is free booze all night, so you won’t need your purse. You won’t lose it, as well, when you get too pissed to see”

I tried to out-stare her, and she just laughed.

“Nice try, love, but no coconut. Now go and bake the best of this evening. Me and Dad will be around”

What choice did I have? I did as I was told, stuffing my face with spit-roasted pork and other unhealthy food, drinking far too much than was good for me, and rocking out with Mam and the other women as two bands in succession pumped out the rhythms that had done so much to shape my life. I found myself dancing with a series of men, and it was only after a couple of hours that I realised that if they weren’t Sam, Gandalf or Dad, they were all from the host club. Eventually, I took Sam to one side for a breather and an interrogation, and he just smiled at me.

“Dad told me, Debbie. I know I’m not that sharp, but my eyes work. I can see, you and Carl, aye? His brothers and me, Dad said we should keep you safe. Keep the twats off your back. Like the priest said, isn’t it? I got two sisters. You are my sister, just like Rosie. Both of you, you’ve always looked after me, so fair’s fair”

I hugged him, and he mumbled into my shoulder.

“Am I doing it right, Debbie?”

“Absolutely right, Sam. Absolutely”

There are more ways to be alone than mine.

up
144 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

interesting ceremony

didnt know Odin had any priests left.

DogSig.png

Priests

It was officially approved as a religion in Iceland, ages ago.

Better Than Those Boring Christians

joannebarbarella's picture

"Does anybody here object?"...." Nobody here with a death wish then." The axe would have seen some use.

Nothing says safety

Andrea Lena's picture

like a friend who promises to keep the twats off your back, aye? Excellent as always!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Brothers

I suppose I should say a few things about that, and about MCs in general.

I know full well that there are people here who fit into all aspects of gender identity, whether it be the classic binary of male to female, or the other way, as well as those who have an interest in such matters for a vast range of reasons. I intend no disrespect for anyone except the odd 'chaser' who may appear. One aspect of transition MtF is what is formally known as the "flight into hypermasculinity", and that is something I did. So much of my life was spent being Macho Man, which is how I can write with some insight into such areas as rugby, military service and biker clubs.

I used to be a club officer in a very hard-edged MC. No details on that one, but Carl, Squint and the rest are drawn from people I knew and loved as a 'brother'. The support and, well, love of brother patches was something that did an awful lot to hold me together for many years, until I could no longer avoid confronting the simple choice between transition and suicide.

Could I fit into that scene again? Not really, because my sense of common humanity is more that of Big Bill than that shown by a typical MC patch.

Do I miss that sense of inclusion, belonging, family?

As Ginny would say, "Fuck yeah!"