Flea Market Sausage

"Mother, Mama Lindsay, that is a dress." Bastian's voice was cold, flat, and decidedly unimpressed.  "I am NOT a bride."

 

"Now, Basty, don't take that tone with us," his mother said patiently.  "Lindsay and I have checked with Grandfather and several of the older ladies in the tribe.  There are specific traditions to uphold if you want your marriage to be blessed and recognized by the tribe."

 

"So the tribe says I have to dress like a girl?"

 

"No, they don't, and you aren't going to," Lindsay answered.  "This is just the top layer that you will wear.  You will have a breechcloth and leggings under this just like Atreyu will wear."

 

"Oh, there's more to the outfit then?" Bastian asked with a blush.  "I'm sorry I got upset with you both.  I haven't taken the time to research the tribe customs like I should, but you two have so that I can have a beautiful wedding with Atreyu.  I'm sorry for snapping at you."

 

"Yes here are the leggings, darling," Lesley told her son, holding them up for him.

 

"Umm... Mom... where are the rest of those pants?  That's just a belt with legs hanging from it."

 

"Yes, dear, traditional leggings, the breechcloth will cover your... privates," Lesley said with a little blush.

 

"Ok let me see the breechcloth then," Bastian said with a relieved sigh until he did see it.  "Mama Lindsay, that's a scarf, what am I supposed to do with that?"

 

"Well, you see you put the leggings on first and then you tuck this end of the breechcloth up between the belt and your skin on your back, making sure that it hangs down over your butt on the outside.  You tuck the rest of it between your legs and bring it up in the front, again under the belt, and then you have this part hanging down in the front.  Here, let me show you some pictures from the Pow Wows so you get the idea."

 

"I can't get married in front of everyone wearing that," Bastian squeaked and blushed intensely.  "Everybody will see my butt."

 

"That's what the top layer is for, silly," Lesley reminded him.  "This will hang down to cover what the breechcloth and leggings don't."

 

"I'll wear the dress," Bastian mumbled as he covered his face with his hands.  "So will Atreyu be dressed just like me?"

 

"His outfit will be very similar," Lesley said vaguely.

 

"Similar, but not exactly," Bastian clarified.

 

"Yes, sweetheart," Lindsay confirmed.  "Ok, I want you to do yourself a big favor from now on, Bastian.  Stop thinking of marriage as man and woman, husband and wife.  Instead, think of the two roles as provider and caregiver.  The provider protects the home and as the old saying goes, brings home the bacon.  The caregiver nurtures the home, and is the one that personifies love in the home.  The provider is power and authority, the caregiver is strength and kindness.  Now if you apply those terms to Jack and me, and your parents, you will see that each of us at different times takes each role, but for the most part, your mom and I are caregivers, and Jack and your dad are the providers.  Now be honest, with us and yourself, which role do you take most of the time with Atreyu?"

 

"I guess maybe I'm the caregiver," Bastian admitted with a shrug.

 

"Yes, son, you have always been a little caregiver," Lesley told him with a hug.  "You always act with your heart first.   Remember that summer six years ago when you brought me flowers every day?  You picked wildflowers and you even got flowers from neighbor's yards, including Mrs. Yancy."

 

"Everybody was scared of her back then, but you were so sad all the time.  I knew you always smiled when you talked about her roses, so I snuck into her yard to pick some for you.  She caught me though.  I was so shocked when she came out of her house with a pair of clippers and some gloves and helped me cut the prettiest of them for you."

 

"She saw you sneak into the yard and watched you prick your fingers on the thorns, but you kept trying to pick them.  She called me and I begged her not to be mad at you because you were just trying to make me feel better.  I told her on the phone that day why I was so sad, and I think it's time to tell you now.  Son, your father and I never told you what happened back then because you were so young you wouldn't have understood, but I had a miscarriage at the beginning of that summer.  I had been pregnant with your sister, but things just didn't work out."

 

"Oh, Mom," Bastian blurted and hugged his mother tightly.

 

"You were what kept me going, son," Lesley said as she wiped tears from both their faces.  "You were so happy all the time and you just couldn't handle it if the people around you weren't happy as well.  Plus, you broke that wall around Mrs. Yancy's heart.  She had been so bitter and lonely after what happened in her life, but you became the grandchild she never got to have.  You know she's planning to come to the wedding?"

 

"She is?  Oh, but it's such a long drive for her to the reservation.  She can barely drive to the store anymore."

 

"That's why she will be coming with your father and I," Lesley told her worried son.  "She's missed you so much this summer and says she can't wait to see you and meet your young man."

 

"She knows I'm gay?" Bastian gulped.

 

"She came to visit me your first day of high school to make sure that I knew to keep close tabs on you at school.  She was worried you would be bullied.  She told me that you were special and delicate, like the rarest flower, and you needed extra protection until you found your strength.  She also told me that she would protect you herself to her dying breath if need be, even if it meant protecting you from your father and me."

 

"Granny Yancy is tough, Mom," Bastian smiled.  "But why would she think she needed to protect me from you and Dad?"

 

"I won't tell you details that she wants to tell you herself, but suffice it to say, she was concerned that we wouldn't take it well if you came out to us."

 

"Ok, let me try this outfit on," Bastian announced as he grabbed the pieces of his wedding costume.  "Wow, this is so soft."

 

"Yes, deer leather is usually a lot softer than cow leather which you're probably more used to," Lindsay told him.

 

"Deer.... leather.... I'm getting married in Bambi's skin?" Bastian stared at the garments in his hands in horror.

 

"Bastian, different culture, remember?" his mom said softly.

 

"Bastian, sweetie, I remember feeling the same way about it when I married Jack, but this is what you need to know.  The man that killed this deer did so with a bow and arrow, not a gun, and he did it to feed his family on the reservation.  He didn't do it just for sport.  There is practically no waste, either.  He carves the bones into toys for the children and jewelry for his wife so they know that he loves them.  He traded this leather with your parents for your dad's help with learning how to invest the little money he has so that he can provide more for his family.  I traded some of our food supplies for the sausage wagon to get the beadwork done by some of the older ladies of the tribe because they are much faster than I am at it.  Most important of all, you need to know that prayers were made, thanking this deer for giving its life, and thanking the Great Spirit for providing the deer at a time when it was most needed by so many people.  Does that make you feel better?"

 

"It makes me feel guilty for being so spoiled and rich," Bastian admitted as he wiped his eyes of tears that had sprung up while Lindsay had spoken.  He ran a hand over the leather again and whispered, "Thank you, deer, for giving me the chance to honor Atreyu's heritage in our wedding."  He looked up at his two moms and tried not to blush as he said, "Umm, I hate to ask, but can you help me do the scarf thing?"

 

"Well, of course we can," his mother smiled.  "Now you just peel down to your undies, and Lindsay will show us how this works.  It's tradition for me to help you dress the day of the ceremony as well."

 

"You realize, though, that you won't be wearing underwear for the ceremony, right?" Lindsay asked as she stepped closer.

 

"What do you mean?" Bastian squeaked very high pitched.  "I can't.... no no no.... I couldn't.... everyone would see.  Please tell me you're teasing me."

 

"No, dear, you can't wear those fancy undies you like so much because they aren't natural material," his mom told him.

 

"Even if you wore cotton tighty whiteys, you wouldn't be allowed to for the ceremony," Lindsay added.  "The native nations on this continent had never heard of underwear until white men arrived."

 

"Trust me, Bastian, when the ceremony starts you won't spare a single thought for what you are wearing or what other people see or don't see when they look at you.  All you're going to care about is the love you and Atreyu will feel as you look into each other's eyes as his grandfather and the chief of the tribe declare you married," his mom said as she hugged him tightly.

 

"Besides, you'll have your dress on over it, remember?" Lindsay grinned.

 

"Mama Lindsay!"

 

"Just teasing you, Carebear," the woman laughed.  "Now, let's get on with this so you and I can get back out there and help our men with the food booths."