Chapter 22 Ace
Ace
Dayton’s nervous.
I guess that’s normal on your wedding day. Hell, I was nervous, too, although probably for very different reasons.
The groomsmen are all gathered in one of the hospitality suites at Dante's parents' church. Just waiting for the festivities to begin.
“Here you go, fellas.”
Dante, Dayton’s older brother and best man, hands all the groomsmen glasses of Jack Daniels. He said it’s a tradition in his family, starting with him, so we all have to do it.
“I’m proud of you, Day,” he begins. “You got a good one.”
We all agree, then we drink.
“Aye, why you so nervous?” Bron asks, which makes me laugh.
“Just jittery," Dayton explains. "I ain’t havin’ second thoughts, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Nah. You just seem like you on edge.”
“I am. Just the excitement of the day.”
“He’s fine,” Dante insists. “It’s normal. If y’all old ass niggas would get married and sit down somewhere, you might have some insight.”
Dayton laughs, then looks over at me.
“Yeah I agree,” I tell him. “Once you get out there and see her coming to you in that white dress, you’ll forget everything else.”
“I’ma give you my married man advice,” Dante says. “Fourteen years in, so that makes me an expert.”
“Here this nigga go,” Day says with an eyeroll.
“Nah, listen. This is good. I was just gonna say, to be a good husband, you gotta bring death to your ego. Cuz she gon’ be right sometimes. Actually, she gon’ be right most of the time. You gotta be mature enough to learn from her. It ain’t a contest. She’s your partner, not your opp.”
We raise a glass to that.
Dante’s battle-tested. He got a wife, a mortgage, kids, and a lawn he gotta mow. That’s what authority is made of.
“Ace, you up," he says.
“For what.?
“Advice. From a newlywed.”
Every eye turns on me.
This is embarrassing. I don’t have a single word to give, and everybody here besides Dante knows that.
“I might not be the right one to ask,” I finally say.
My voice came out quieter than I meant it to.
An awkward silence ensues. We all finish our drinks, then the wedding coordinator sticks her head in to tell us it’s time.
Dayton takes a deep breath. “Aight. Let’s go.”
We line up the way we were instructed, and the processional commences. The music swells. We pass rows and rows of people. Family, friends, coworkers—people who showed up for Day.
I scan the crowd as I walk, and for some reason, my own wedding flashes in my mind. The small space. The empty chairs. Back then, I told myself it was worth it.
I still believe that.
I think.
Standing here at the altar with Day, I look out and take in the tableau in its entirety. It’s a room full of love. I wonder if it matters. Plenty of people marry in front of hundreds and end up divorced, so it probably doesn’t.
Or maybe I just hope it doesn’t.
Day tears up when Shara comes down the aisle. We all smile, while Dante slaps him on the back. Seeing your boy emotional like that in a moment like this really does something to your soul.
I wonder if he felt like that for me at mine.
Their vows are simple and honest expressions of love and devotion. The usual. But damn, hearing that shit makes me feel something. Something sad. And I wish I knew why.
Shara’s sister Shayenne is her maid of honor. She’s looking good in that light blue dress, I must admit. I fucked her once, and it didn’t end well for me or my tires. It’s been a few years since then, though. I’d like to think we’ve both grown since then.
When she glances at me and sees me smile, she mouths 'fuck you.'
Okay. Loud and clear. She’s not over it.
I turn my attention back to the bride and groom and feel that feeling again. It’s like I feel hollow. Like I’m grieving something.
Am I jealous?
I don't know. What I do know is that I’d rather be home on the couch with Raya. She’s still not feeling well, so I told her to rest and relax.
But I’m here for Day. Even though he wasn’t there for me.