Antoine Demers is in a bind. Noelle, his fiancé, has forbidden him from inviting his darling Maman to their cake tasting. What she does not know is that Madame Demers has already selected the wedding cake, the venue, the flowers, the food, and even Noelle's bridal gown. Antoine has known about his mother’s treachery all along but hasn’t had the courage to confront her or confess to Noelle. Entirely at peace with his lack of a spine, Antoine has tiptoed unscathed along the perilous battle line between these two enemies but when Noelle walks in and presents an opened letter reeking of his Maman’s signature scent, he knows the reckoning is upon him.
Having failed yet again to untangle you from this fool’s errand you have embarked upon, I find myself at my wits end with nowhere left to turn. I am left with little choice but to embrace this simpleton you have chosen as your bride and brace for impact.
I Blame Myself
I told you not to use public transport. I warned you the Metro would put you in close contact with the other half and voila! My worst nightmare becomes reality. Not a stitch of chic or a hint of class. Vowels as flat as her humour , expression as blank as her wallet, and an entirely forgettable personality. If only the same could be said for her face.
"L'amour est comme le vent, nous ne savons pas d'ou il vient."
Balzac knew his stuff and I curse the ill wind that brought this hussy to our door. Mark my words, Antoine this wedding will be your downfall. Make no mistake, I will haunt you from the early grave you are sending me to with your reckless choices.
Never Surrender. Jamais!
As you refuse to see sense, I must inform you with the single-carat clarity of great grand-mere’s engagement ring which now withers on Noelle’s surly finger – that every single detail of your wedding will be selected by me.Protest is futile. You have chosen to marry so far beneath you, Antoine, that we all suffered vertigo. Despite my pleas and enticements you inexplicably refused to elope – although I don’t know why you resisted? It was the perfect solution. A quick wedding followed by an even quicker divorce when you inevitably come to your senses (the divorce papers prudently tucked into the secret pocket of your sac voyage). Besides two weeks in the Caribbean will do your skin the world of good, you’re looking papery these days.
But I digress. Our family must be spared the shame. Marry her if you must but to put us through the humiliation of a country-bumpkin wedding?! Non!
"Your heart is in the right place, but I don't know where the hell your brain is."
Such a sage that Sophia Petrillo from my favourite American television show The Golden Girls. I couldn't have summed you up better myself.
Antoine, I really must go. The florist is here to discuss the bridal bouquet. I was thinking Lilies or carnations, but one mustn’t be petty, and the silly girl may actually like them.
Your chere Maman
P.S. Seeing as you are a coward and would never have the courage to tell her yourself, I asked Noelle to hand deliver this letter to you, perhaps I forgot to seal it too.... j'ai oublie.
P.S.P.S. In the happy event that she decides to leave you, hasten to tell her the driver will give her a lift to Gare de Montparnasse and will escort her onto the next TGV to Ariege.
P.S.P.S.P.S He’s double parked outside the café.... I have told him to wait.