July 26, 2008
Cory
“AND he still walks me to all of my classes, even though… well, even though Steven Percy has been serving his time since early in the spring.” I glanced up at Brett, who was, as usual, hovering right over my shoulder, one hand set firmly on my waist.
“What can I say? Old habits die hard, huh?” He didn’t appear to be even slightly apologetic about his choice. He leaned in very close and whispered in my ear, “I like walkin’ ya to class, baby. Ain’t never gonna stop doin’ it, neither.”
And when I glanced up at him, I couldn’t help but lose my breath for a split second. Brett looked… well, how can I phrase it tactfully? Even in the dull light of the Downtown Pub, my lawfully wedded husband of less than sixty minutes looked absolutely stunning in his black tuxedo. The contrast between his long golden hair, tumbling in its usual unruly fashion over the collar of his crisp black jacket, those piercing green eyes that seemed to see right into my soul, and the soft expression of unmitigated satisfaction (he wore that as well as the tuxedo), I must admit, formed an image in my mind that I knew I’d never forget. And so maybe it was a touch less than tasteful, but I’d chosen to wear a smaller version of the exact same tuxedo in white. And maybe it was true that my shoulders didn’t stretch the material across the jacket’s back to the same degree Brett’s did, but we were a matched set, nonetheless.
The pub looked better, and far brighter, than I’d ever seen it before. I thought it would be fitting that our wedding had a rainbow theme, seeing as it wasn’t every day that two men were united in matrimony up here in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire. I’d mentioned my vision to my father who was giving us the reception as a wedding gift. And Roderick totally went to town. He’d even extended my “rainbow vision” to be more of a “tie-dye rainbow vision,” hence, the tables were all draped in what would have made excellent Grateful Dead T-shirts. Balloons of all colors were tied to every chair, and no shortage of rainbow streamers “decked the halls,” I guess you could say. Even my wedding cake, made with tie-dyed batter as well as rainbow frosting, would have satisfied the dessert needs of many a seventies hippie. All it needed was a peace sign on top.
Maura, my best friend from high school, grabbed the hand of her “University of Connecticut first-string soccer player” boyfriend who stood beside her (I’m sure he had a name, but that was how Maura referred to him) and dragged him right up against her side. After purring in his ear for a few seconds, she turned back to me and asked, “So that jerk Steven Percy took a plea deal instead of taking his chances at trial?”
Without hesitation Brett stepped forward, pushing me back toward the vibrant head table behind us, protective as always. “We decided that it’d be better for Cory, here”—he glanced back at me soberly—“to avoid the media circus that’d sure as fuck come with a public trial. But the asshole got himself a year in the pen, so’s… so’s we feel he’s payin’ a price. And… and he can’t come ’round Cory; if he tries to, he’ll find himself in deep shit.” After a brief pause, he added, “Yes, sir.”
“I don’t know how you guys managed it,” Maura continued, completely oblivious to Brett’s growing discomfort with the subject, “but it really hasn’t been too widely publicized. I mean, yeah, I read about it online and saw it on the entertainment channels and maybe even in a couple of magazines at the grocery store—” She stopped talking to rearrange the way her carrot-orange curls fell over her bare shoulders. “—but there weren’t any pictures of ‘the victim’, and it faded away pretty quickly… really, it could’ve been so much worse.”
Maura may have been unaware of Brett’s increasing agitation, but I wasn’t. Time for our graceful exit from this little conversation, before Brett came unglued. But I had to admit that Maura had made some legitimate points: Steven Percy had successfully avoided a trial, major publicity, and a sizeable prison sentence, which didn’t sit too well with my husband. On the other hand, he had gotten punished, and more importantly, if he wanted to salvage his career, he’d be forced to stay far away from Central/Northern New Hampshire.
It was my turn to step out in front of Brett; I was capable of protecting him too. “Well, Maura, you guys have fun. Have you hit the buffet yet?” I nodded toward the long (flamboyantly colorful) buffet table. “My father went all out with the food service, that’s for sure. I’d suggest you two try the stuffed shells, those things are tasty!” In an effort to encourage Brett to start walking away from Maura and toward our more tactful friends from college, I lightly pushed on his chest, which I could actually feel heating up under his shirt, despite the air conditioning in the Downtown Pub’s restaurant. “Don’t let what she said get to you, Brett. Especially not today. I’m fine and you’re fine and he’s in jail, so it all worked out.” And now the redirection. “Let’s see if Ben and Ally want to dance, okay?”
Brett’s twisted expression relaxed a bit, and then he took my hand and led me across the room to our friends’ table.
“This is an awesome party, you guys!” Christian was clearly enjoying the buffet. He sat at a table draped in lime green and hot pink-hued tie-dye, two plates, overflowing with food, in front of him. “I might need sunglasses to look at the décor, but the food is amazing. Glad I didn’t bring a date; I couldn’t chow down like this with a girl around!”
Ian, it just so happened, was wearing shades, but more for the image they projected than for actual eye protection from excessive decorative brightness. He snorted. “I thought I was your date, Chrissy, and I have to say, I like a man who can eat like a man!” He placed both palms boldly on the sides of Christian’s face and got himself a kick in the combat boots for his efforts. “Ouch, that fucking hurt!”
“I’m banning all violence at my wedding.” I looked at Christian, then Ian, and then back again, a warning in my eyes.
“Well, I’ll try to hold back, but only if you save me a dance, Mr. Taylor.” He linked his arm through mine and then leaned in with a smile. I thought it was a serious request, but it was hard to be certain since I couldn’t see Ian’s eyes.
“You’ll have to check with my husband, the other Mr. Taylor, but it sounds doable.”
“I might let ya dance with my husband,” Brett teased Ian, “when I’m all tired out and need to take a break from the action. But no funny business, ya hear me?”
“Of course not.” Ian leaned in toward Brett and kissed his cheek with a loud smacking sound. “I want you to save me a dance too, Brett-y.”
“Oh, yeah… right.” And even though it was fairly dim in the restaurant, so I couldn’t see the proof, I knew that Brett was blushing.
“Let’s hit the dance floor. I want us to show Missy, here, how real men move.” Hunter, it appeared, had taken more than a passing interest in Barry Janek’s little sister, who had come to the wedding as her big brother’s date. Apparently, his interest in the young lady even trumped his interest in the buffet; he practically swept her off to dance with him.
On our way to the dance floor, Ally pulled me aside. “This is a beautiful wedding, Cory, and you and Brett are certainly handsome grooms.”
“Thanks, sweetie, and I agree. My dad definitely got the details right today.” I couldn’t hold back a grin as I stepped beneath the huge rainbow balloon arch that you had to walk under to get onto the little dance floor that had been set up near the entrance to the kitchen. Between the decorations that he’d obviously contemplated quite carefully, the long buffet table, jam-packed with Italian food that was pushed against the far wall, and the music, my father had certainly made up for lost time in terms of spoiling his son.
I glanced over to where Roderick stood behind the microphone with his ramshackle band. They actually sounded great, but I wouldn’t have cared if they’d totally sucked, because my father had done all of this for me. He’d invited everyone I loved, all of whom I considered to be my family, had given me away with a father’s share of tears, and he’d even written a few “I’m sorry/forgive me/I love you/let me make it up to you” types of songs, which he’d dedicated to me, and sang with a penitent voice. And a contrite expression.
When Dad saw my husband and I approach the dance floor, he spoke quietly to his band, sent a wink over to Brett, and began to sing his a cappella rendition of Lifehouse’s “Everything,” which was perfect and romantic, especially once Brett took me in his arms.
Brett
DIDN’T never think a day could be fuckin’ perfect, that is, not ’til today happened.
Me and Cory’s weddin’ day was blue-skied and breezy, just like how I knew it’d be. We got hitched out in the back parkin’ lot of the Downtown Pub, right near the place where us two met. (Maybe a dumpster backdrop don’t seem romantic to you, but we had us our reasons.)
The first thing I’d noticed when my baby stepped outta the back door of the pub, his dad grippin’ onto his arm like Cory was his anchor, was them gorgeous eyes. So fuckin’ brilliant, sparklin’ just like them sapphires in our wedding bands—we went and got me one to match Cory’s—and them eyes was shinin’ at me. Just for me. That sight nearly brought me to my knees, and I ain’t fuckin’ with ya. In that there white tux, well, Cory was an angel. Didn’t say like an angel, so’s please don’t get me wrong on this; that boy was an angel to me. It was a fact he was beautiful, that dark silky hair swishin’ around his perfect face in the breeze, and he looked slim and fragile, but not frail, standin’ beside his father.
About twenty of our friends (who me and Cory secretly considered to be our put-together family) stood outside with us as we tied the knot, all official-like. Gotta say, we had us some classy groomsmen and a coupla nice-lookin’ groomswomen too, who’d stood beside us when we done the deed, all of them as important to us as any fathers, brothers, and sisters coulda been: Brian, Jon, Barry, Ian, Maura, and Ally. The food at the party wasn’t too shabby, neither, mostly Italian with a sorta down-home flare, and the music—well, some of them tunes Roderick wrote for Cory woulda broke my heart in two if I’d let ’em.
Bubbles flew and cameras flashed and people danced.
But none of that there is what’s makin’ my day fuckin’ perfect.
On the dance floor, I reached down to take ahold of the real reason that today was fuckin’ perfect, and just like I knew he’d do, Cory raised his arms, and then them beautiful eyes, to me. And I hadta smile right then for another reason too; ’cause outta the corner of my eye, I caught me a glimpse of Roderick over there where the band was sittin’, wavin’ and winkin’ at me before he started singin’ that tune called “Everything.” (Okay, so’s maybe I mentioned to my father-in-law-to-be a coupla times how much that there song meant to me, ’cause Cory surely was my everything.) Uh-huh. Cory was my strength and my hope and my light. Just sayin’. And Cory liked the song too. When he smiled up into my face I felt more alive, like God had just breathed insida me.
Us two sure didn’t need no piece of paper to know that we was forever partners, but somethin’ kinda old-fashioned that lived deep down insida my heart felt warm and satisfied ’cause we now had it.
Time to call a spade a spade, huh? I was fuckin’ thrilled down to my very bones to have a piece of paper that said Cory and me was legally married. Was most prob’ly gonna find me a purple frame and hang it up over our bed.
“This day… it’s perfect, Brett.”
“You, that’s what’s perfect.”
And on that there dance floor we clung tight together, kinda the same way as we had since we was just a coupla broken and lonely teenagers. Sure, me and Cory was now bonded together on account of the love in our hearts that’d growed like a wild grape vine over the past five years, but now we was also bound in the eyes of our family and friends and the law and God, so’s neither of us needed one thing more.
Roderick sang them words of my heart, and I slow danced underneath a gigantic balloon rainbow, holdin’ my own personal pot of gold in my arms.
There wasn’t no more unfinished business in our lives; me and Cory was complete.