Chapter 7
chapter seven
priscilla
I wouldn’t ever have to imagine what a fairy-tale wedding looked like. I was in one.
It was a small wedding; less than a hundred people. I sat in the second row of comfortable chairs lined across the white sandy beach. The sun was lower in the sky and the breeze coming from the ocean made for a pretty perfect moment.
“This is quite spectacular,” Easton whispered from the seat next to mine. On my other side were my mom and dad, and right in front of us was Patrice’s mom.
“It is,” I agreed, as I took in the scene.
The event planner, a high school friend of Tom’s, had outdone herself.
She’d built a small canopy, under which Tom and Camilo would say their vows.
It was covered in what must have been thousands of white and green orchids.
And to the side was a music quartet playing instrumental versions of old merengue.
After a moment, they began playing a more solemn piece and Tom’s mom and dad came down the aisle, looking like royalty and beaming at all the onlookers.
“It’s perfect.” I didn’t mean to sigh, but it was hard to resist getting a little maudlin.
I’d never wanted any of this for myself.
I still didn’t; my idea of a happily ever after had never involved a wedding dress or a white picket fence.
But bearing witness to one of my dearest friends getting his own version of a happily ever after was beyond special.
“God, she’s so cute.” I smiled distractedly at my mother’s comment then looked over to see Tom’s six-year-old daughter Libertad walking toward the front, a little red cushion holding the weddings bands.
That was something else I didn’t want: children.
I’d never envisioned domesticity for myself, which had not been exactly an easy sell for my Dominican parents.
I was their only child and I knew they’d always dreamed of getting to do this.
Of seeing me walk down the aisle and stand up with the person I loved.
Juan Pablo and I would laugh, wondering how we’d break it to our parents that there would most likely be no wedding or grandkids, at least not from us.
The rustling of people moving in their seats and Easton’s gasp got my attention back on the proceedings, and my eyes landed on the guys who were walking in that easy rhythm of people who were used to making space for each other.
They were wearing pastel blue linen Cuban guayaberas with gray slacks and leather sandals, with Ayako, Camilo’s work wife, heading up the line in matching blue linen romper. They all looked sun kissed and handsome; fades fresh, breads trimmed. They could’ve been a destination wedding fashion shoot.
Tom’s side came up after, with Priya, one of his best friends, wearing the same romper as Ayako but in a golden yellow, her arm linked with her husband Sanjay’s.
Behind them, Tom’s other best friend and his brother walked along, smiling in their yellow chacabanas—the Dominican equivalent of the guayabera, minus the intricate embroidery on the sides.
Tom followed them and, after a minute, Camilo came up with his mother.
There was a collective gasp on our side when we saw the two of them beaming as they made their way to the canopy.
Seeing Camilo and Dinorah glowing had us all in tears.
I looked up and saw that Juanpa and the guys were doing their best to hold it together while Ayako was trying, and failing, to blot her mascara as tears ran down her face.
Tom’s face was the definition of adoration as he stood on the tip of his toes, clearly holding back from running down the aisle.
The rest of us could disappear and he would not even notice, all of his attention on his beloved.
After Camilo got to the front and hugged Dinorah, all of us were ready to lose our shit. But when Milo walked up to Tom and the older man enveloped him in a tight embrace and mouthed “I love you,” with such intensity he could barely get the words out, there was not a single dry eye in the place.
There would be no judge, gay marriage not being legal in the DR. Tom and Milo had already made it official in New York City.
This was the celebration of their love they wanted to share with all of us.
Tom’s dad stood up to say a few words in English and Spanish about Tom and Milo and we all settled in to hear the vows.
Tom told Camilo about the ways his love had changed him for the better.
How for the first time in his life, he felt like he could step into all the parts of who he was without fear.
And Camilo reciprocated by telling his man that because of Tom’s love, he was finally able to trust that he deserved the fairy tale he always yearned for, but never thought he would get.
As Camilo and Tom made promises to each other about forever, I glanced at Juan Pablo and found him looking at me. Each time the intensity in his gaze almost made me jump in my seat.
What was he looking for, looking at me like that?
I wondered if this new Juan Pablo I’d been seeing glimpses of all week wanted something different.
If he wanted something more “normal” than the low-key shared apartment we’d dreamt about as teens.
I couldn’t tell. He looked at me with a mixture of longing and hope I couldn’t quite decipher.
As Milo and Tom finished their vows and then ended the ceremony with a swoon-worthy kiss, we all whooped and cheered.
With that, the first notes of Celia Cruz’s “La Vida es un Carnaval” sounded across the beach and we all headed up to where the reception to end all receptions was waiting for us.
I let our family and friends hurry up the sandy path to the cocktail hour area and lingered behind, giving myself just a minute to breathe through the wave of emotions that had hijacked me during the ceremony.
It was so strange to feel so alone when I was literally surrounded by every person I loved.
I could see them all right now, and still I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I sighed, sick on my own bullshit, and decided I’d take a stroll on the beach before rejoining the rest of the group. Just as I was about to turn, I felt a light touch under my elbow. It was almost like my body could recognize him before my mind did.
“You bracing for what our nearest and dearest are about to do to that open bar?”
Just like that, the tension balloon that had taken over my chest popped.
I tried my best not to laugh, but then stopped fighting it and busted up. When I looked up, he was grinning from ear to ear. “You think you’re funny,” I said through fits of laughter. “Although my dad’s been availing himself of the Blue Label like it’s his job.”
He scoffed as we took a few steps toward the darkened beach. “I can’t talk; my parents took so many crab legs from dinner to their room last night they could barely walk.”
I shook my head and grinned, certain he was only exaggerating a little bit, then bumped his shoulder. “You guys looked great up there.”
“Shiiit. Is that a compliment?” I could barely make out the grin on his face, now that it was fully evening and we were getting further from the lights of the reception area. But it was there.
“Don’t let it go to your head, this day has us all in our feelings.”
“I know. Milo’s so damn happy that for a whole ten minutes there, he forgot to boss us around.” That made me laugh for real. I lifted my face to the sky and felt the briny sea breeze as we walked.
For a second I felt him hesitate, but then he lifted his arm over my shoulder. He didn’t drop it though, just let it hover over there for a second, waiting for me to pull it down. I didn’t question my impulse as I brought a hand up to settle his arm around my shoulder.