Patricia, the maid of honor, arrives at the last second. She and Kristin ruin their makeup crying over how beautiful the other looks. I hitch a ride with Teyonna in a car full of wedding gifts for the bride and groom, two miles away to the barn where the wedding’s now going to be held. When I leave Half Moon Mill, Alex is calm and smiling. They’re going to take pictures with the rest of the wedding party, then head over.
When Alex shows up at the barn, however, his eyes are bloodshot. I don’t mean bloodshot as in got a little teary during the photo shoot. At some point between my leaving half an hour ago and now, he had to have truly cried. I grab his arm, startled. “You okay?”
He nods but can’t bring himself to speak.
“You wanna talk about it?”
He shakes his head. Leans in to study my hand. I’m wearing six dainty rose gold rings. He slips one off my thumb and pockets it.
A few other relatives flock, asking him if he’s all right. He either nods or shakes his head, depending on the question, clearly wanting to be left alone. I hear somebody whisper that he’s probably thinking about his dad today, and I could smack myself, I am so dumb for not realizing that myself.
I can’t imagine how hard this must be for him. Even though he seems to like Daniel and is happy to see his mom happy, he grew up in a house plastered with his parents’ wedding photos. His mom is changing her last name. His dad’s absence is tangible today, reminders everywhere he looks that Alex Senior is gone, that the shape his family has held nearly all of his life will change today. In less than an hour he’ll gain a stepfather he barely knows and a stepbrother who hasn’t been his favorite person thus far.
I monitor Trevor as he mills about, accidentally knocking a few chairs askew with his long legs. He lost his mom when he was little, too. He isn’t teary, but he’s more solemn than I’m used to seeing him.
The barn wasn’t Daniel and Kristin’s first choice, but it’s gorgeous. Edison bulbs swing from the rafters, along with four elegant chandeliers. The aisle is trimmed with coral peonies, the tables and archway with bird-of-paradise, Magical Moonlight buttonbush, pale green spray I spent hours fixing together this morning. Blown-up photos of Kristin and Daniel in black and white adorn the walls; toward the back, a naked red velvet cake studded with white candy pearls is the crowning jewel in a sea of cupcakes. Bushra from Wafting Crescent is arranging them into hearts.
I find my seat in the second row on the groom’s side, right next to the aisle, one of the first guests to sit down. All of the bride’s and groom’s relatives are still scattered, voices echoing. This is where the reception was going to be held, and the wedding planner’s flapping around, working out the logistics of setting up reception tables behind the folding chairs. A few folks in pink aprons are adding finishing touches to a candied popcorn bar. The deejay’s testing the equipment. “We can’t wait until after the vows to set up the reception, it follows immediately afterward,” the planner’s saying to a caterer. “Three long tables along the back for the buffet. We’ll have to get rid of the photo booth or find a different spot for it. Food is the priority! Has anyone seen the flower girl’s basket?”
Soon, all of the seats have filled with people and Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major starts playing. Daniel in his black tux and salmon vest walks with casual ease, waving to family and friends. Trevor walks slowly, distractedly, messing with his boutonniere. The bridesmaids are decked out in stiff curls and pale green floor-length dresses, the flower girl in white with a salmon sash. Miles has changed his mind about walking with Alex at the last minute after watching everyone oooh and ahhh over the flower girl, deciding to forge bravely ahead by himself.
I feel a mixture of strange sorrow to know the life Kristin led in my warmest memories is gone and joy to know that she’s found love again, and somehow I am a part of it, too, serendipitously. Before I can get carried away, the music swells and there she is, not a tear to be found for the first time today, vibrant in an organza mermaid gown with a cropped, long-sleeved red jacket, on the arm of the most incredible man I’ve ever known.
He’s fine until he sees me. Then he presses his lips together and looks away, chest swelling. His eyes are red. Shining.
It’s so distressing to see him upset that I want to stand up—he quickly wipes his eyes with his free arm as they pass me, Kristin sweeping the tips of her bouquet along my shoulder in hello. I smile back, then switch my attention to Alex. I can’t see his face again until they reach the front, when he lifts Kristin’s short veil and smooths it back. He tries to let her go, but she grabs his face, forcing him to bend down so that she can kiss his forehead. It leaves a big raspberry mark that everyone laughs at, which helps ease some of the tension in his body. He makes his way next to Trevor, and once I see Daniel with hearts in his eyes for Kristin I remember that I’d meant to keep my eye on him the whole time. That’s what the wedding planner advised me to do: Look at the groom while he watches the bride waltz down the aisle!
I keep forgetting to look at the happy couple, I keep forgetting to listen when they deliver their vows. I try, especially when gentle laughs pepper the audience, but Alex is an irresistible beacon, head bowed, one hand settled atop Miles’s thatch of curls while the other flexes into a fist at his side.
As soon as the couple says I do, there’s a curious silence as the rain abruptly stops beating down. Kristin’s head tilts back as her eyes run across the roof, and I know her well enough to hear exactly what she’s thinking:
That this is Alex Senior and Trevor’s mom saying hello, their way of blessing the day.