Page 83 of The Lovers
You get it. You know.
The truth I’ve learned from working countless weddings over the last five years, is that every single thing can go right on the big day and the marriage can still fall apart after. Maybe weeks, months, years, it doesn’t matter. The only omen that truly makes a difference is the love that passes between the couple.
Marriage isn’t luck.
It’s meaningful work.
Millie’s eyes tell me she’s ready. Sean’s tears are a display incongruent with the jock I know he likes to play, since he isn’t one deep down inside. Cash Kim, whose hair has been carefully styled to cover the patch of raw, blistered skin on his forehead, openly weeps, and both Banks and Tucker hold on for dear life as they all turn to man puddles right in front of my eyes.
Natalie is pristine, holding the bridesmaids’ line at attention. They are all gorgeous—way less weepy than the dudes. Coco is the only one with a lip wobble. Piper, stoic as ever in the face of true love, hasn’t flinched since she took her place. But when the bride and groom begin their vows, there’s not a dry eye in the house. I’m overwhelmed with confidence that these two—with the support of the family and friends who found their way out to this desert oasis to bear witness—will have a life full of love and a marriage that stands the tests time always offers.
My eyes drift to the back row, where Kit sits. From here, I can’t see her face or tell if she’s tearing up. All I can see are her shoulders, bare in her strapless jumpsuit. All I can think about is the way her face would look up close to mine as she said the wordsI do.
A future with anyone didn’t always feel like a safe bet.
First, because—though I do experience the occasional attraction toward someone of the nonfemme variety—the vast majority of my relationships are with women. When I came out, I had a feeling that my preference would be for women. Most of the people I liked were female identifying. At the time, same-sex marriage wasn’t recognized nationwide. The happily ever after Kit is always going on about wasn’t for everyone.
It’s outdated now, like I said to Kit before we kissed yesterday, but back then I wasn’t sure how I could have the family I longed for if I loved a woman and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
The norm made my desires seem unattainable.
Later on, after a few relationships—and subsequent breakups—I started to lose hope that I would ever find someone I wanted to make a go of it with. My eyes drift momentarily back to Piper, and I let myself cringe at past me for her foolishness. I wanted Piper to love me the way I loved her, and once I gave that up it became impossible to imagine a future together.
I want to believe that with time, Kit and I can create the kind of relationship that weathers storms, wants the best, embodies more than the vows couples say on their wedding day—embodies the two of us with all our imperfections and scars.
I want to believe it. I’m just not sure yet that I can trust that and just let go.
Let it happen.
The recessional begins to play and the whole audience rises to their feet to observe Millie and Sean as they leave. Healer Arynne stands at the geometric altar, her giant eyes misty, her job completed without any final obstructions to the wedding weekend. I should be watching, looking out for possible missteps. I should have gone ahead of them to the staging room, checked the champagne was chilled to perfection and had it ready and waiting for when they arrived. Those few minutes of alone time after the ceremony are critical to most brides and grooms.
I should be doing a lot of things, but instead I’m watching Kit press the back of her hand to her tearstained cheek, dabbing gently. I’m walking over to tuck up behind her chair. I’m relieved when she leans into me, tilting her head to rest against mine.
“Nothing but good vibes for these two,” she says.
“For us, too,” I reply. It’s almost a question.
She doesn’t say no. She just squeezes tighter, leans a littleharder, says yes with her body, and I trust that her heart will follow.
Kit is fully in her element.
The showmanship is the best of the weekend so far. I haven’t watched any of her YouTube videos yet, or googled that Kardashian episode Zoe informed me was “a big deal” in gaining her followers. I don’t know if she’s at her best, or if she can do better, but I don’t want to miss a moment.
She gives Healer Arynne a three-card reading that makes my stomach hurt from holding in a deep belly laugh. There’s a story playing out in the cards that Healer Arynne can’t stand seeing in such exact terms. The Five of Swords followed by the Five of Pentacles and then the Hierophant (also a five), which even I know can’t be good.
“Well, fives are curveballs. Where normally reversals are read more negatively, fives flip that on its head.” All of her fives are upright. My skin sizzles with satisfaction as I watch Healer Arynne rebuke Kit’s reading.
“Energetically this isn’t feeling right to me,” she spits. “Your deck needs a cleanse.”
“I cleansed it before you stepped up,” Kit says, calm and cool, but her smile threatens to crack and ruin it all.
“It didn’t work, now did it?” Healer Arynne replies, shoving the cards out of order and turning away from Kit’s table. I don’t know, it seems pretty damn accurate to me.
I chuckle, grabbing a champagne flute from one of the passing trays.
Then Piper steps into my path.
Blocking out my view of Kit. Blocking my way forward.
