The Fifth Wedding #7
“I see the wedded couple is eager to exchange their vows. Is it going to be youth before beauty or beauty before youth?”
“I’ll go first,” Skye says.
“Eager to get it over with, eh? Believe me, I felt that way with Detroit, too. But don’t worry—that was before you were born!”
J wants Detroit to tell Sarah to stop, but instead Detroit laughs and gestures for Skye to take the spotlight.
J notices that Skye does not thank Sarah Burnheart when she passes over the mic. They reach into their blazer, and for a moment J thinks they’re going to drain the rest of the whiskey from the flask. Instead they pull out a stack of index cards.
“Detroit,” Skye begins. But Detroit stays behind, doesn’t step up to stand next to Skye.
Undeterred, Skye pivots, turns their back on the audience to speak directly to the person they are supposed to be marrying.
They take a deep breath...“I vow to be there when you need me and to stay out of your way when you need me to stay out of your way. I vow to help you move the boulders that life throws in the road, and vow to turn those boulders into planters, so we can grow from our misfortunes. I vow to keep bringing colors into your days and nights, colors you can wear, colors you can feel, colors that decorate every piece of our life together. I vow to try harder to squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom, because I know how much it annoys you when I don’t.
I also vow to put the cap back on. Neither of these are metaphors or sexual references.
I’m really talking about toothpaste here.
I vow to let you into my bad moods as well as my good ones.
I vow to try, and try harder, and try even more, even when all I can feel is the strain.
I vow to be a source of brightness. I vow to rub your feet and massage your back and take the things off your mind that hurt you the most. I vow to be honest. I vow to be with you so long that we can’t remember what happened in what year.
I vow to never listen to you when you say you’re giving up sugar.
And I vow, more than anything else, to be yours.
Not exclusively, but primarily. Not lightly, but purposefully. With joy and gratitude.”
The crowd has grown quiet as Skye has spoken, and now they cheer. From the side, J can see Skye try to catch their breath. Detroit, meanwhile, looks moved for the first time this evening.
Skye holds the microphone out, and Detroit takes it. They face each other in front of the audience, just like at a real wedding.
“Damn it, Skye,” Detroit says. “I wrote something down, too. I have it folded here in my cleavage. But it’s.
..it’s not what you just said. I just—you caught me off guard.
I mean, I vowed things like fucking with the patriarchy and making sure to never wake you up when I get in after you’re already asleep.
I just—what is it you want me to say? You know how I am with vows.
They always seem like a good idea at the time, but that time passes pretty quickly.
When I was your age, one of my deepest vows was to never get married, to never give in to the madness that strikes everyone else.
When my sister got married, it cost as much as a year of school for me.
I mean, that’s madness, right? And I thought that tonight wouldn’t be like that, obviously.
But those vows. Those are serious vows. Mine aren’t serious.
And I guess the one vow I can keep is to not disrespect you by reading them.
I thought it was a jest. Honestly, I did.
Now I feel on the spot, and my brain just isn’t getting where it needs to be.
I love you. Let’s be clear about that—I love you.
I don’t have to vow to love you, because it’s already there, and I don’t think it’s going anywhere.
You talk about gratitude; well, I’m nothing but grateful to have you in my life.
You’re young and talented—you could do better than me.
But no, I’m the person you come home to.
I appreciate that. As for the rest, the being only with each other forever part—you and most people in this room know how I feel about that.
How we feel about that. But, yeah...I guess that’s my vow.
I vow to keep it like it is. Because it really works, as far as I’m concerned. Cheers to that.”
Detroit goes to embrace Skye, but Sarah intercedes, putting out her arms like a boxing referee. “Not yet!” she hollers, even without the mic. “Not ’til I say so!”
Skye’s back is now entirely to J, so he can’t really tell how they’re taking all this. The crowd, too, is milling uncertainly. There aren’t cheers like there were for Skye’s vows.
Sarah takes the mic back from Detroit and says, “Alright, folks. We’ve had the vows.
Or at least one set. So now it’s time for you all to be serenaded by our wedding singer.
He’s here all the way from Sweden, which I’m told is even farther away than New Jersey, if such a thing is possible.
Take it away, wedding singer. I apologize I can’t remember your name. ”
J takes the stage to polite applause. He puts the mic in its stand, plugs in his guitar, tunes for a second. Sarah, Detroit, and Skye line up on one side of the stage.
The honey whiskey provides a nice undertone.
“I’m so happy to be here to celebrate Skye and Detroit’s big day. They’ve asked me for two songs, one for each of them. Unusual...but I can see how it makes sense here. We’ll start with Detroit’s song.”
There’s a single, blinding spotlight, so J is relieved he has a reason to look to the side of the stage, to sing to the subject of the song.
He enters the room like a spoon
enters a bowl of soup
He’ll look at you like a tasty crouton
a crispy bamboo shoot
He’ll let you have a taste if you want
He believes in sharing the stew
And because he holds this to be true
he’ll always stay true to you
You have to try everything once
and then you have to try it again
Don’t bother to knock or ring the bell
his door is always open
Know that if this makes you insecure
if this is something that bothers—
That he’ll always stay true to you
(and his fourteen other lovers)
There are some drunken cheers when J is done, and one person laughingly yelling out, “I’m always true to you—in my fashion, baby!” Detroit hams it up, bowing as if he’s been given a medal. Skye remains in the eye of the storm, observing without reacting.
“Okay,” J says. “Now, fair being fair, it’s time for Skye’s song. I have really enjoyed the time I’ve spent with them, and really hope they feel this song in some way captures them and how they exist in the world.”
Skye
What does it mean to be kind?
The things they taught us as a child?
To say thank you and to smile
And to send a birthday card
to the weird kid
who no one liked?
Sometimes
I’ve found those gestures to be lies
But then I’ve found myself on trial
Walking the loneliest of miles
And how much it means
just to be seen
in those times
Skye
You must have X-ray eyes
You saw right through my fake smiles
You know how kids wait to cry
Until they have permission
A safe haven
Where it’s alright
Do the world a favor and come out tonight
Do the world a favor and come out tonight
Everybody wants to see
Skye
We want to see
Skye
Skye
Love letters want replies
If you keep sending them despite
getting no answer
from the other
mail your hopes
to another
Skye
I wanna get you drunk and high
I want to hear your heart sigh
Get on the dance floor
What do you long for
in your life?
Oh
Do the world a favor and come out tonight
Do the world a favor and come out tonight
Everybody wants to see
Skye
We want to see
Skye
As J sings, the rest of the room doesn’t exactly fall away, but Skye’s response is the only one that matters.
To J, this is the first song in a long time that actually feels like a gift.
Maybe because it’s only for one person instead of two.
Maybe because he knows Skye needs it more than most people would on a real wedding day.
When the song is over, he’s barely had time to take his hand from the guitar strings when Skye comes over to him. There are tears in their eyes.
There is such power in being seen, in seeing yourself in a song.
“Thank you,” Skye says. “Truly, thank you. I can’t—I just can’t—”
Words failing, Skye reaches out and goes to hug J, then sees the guitar. So instead they raise their hands up, take each side of J’s face, and kiss him.
J is not expecting this. And there is such appreciation, such need in that kiss.
..he is not not-kissing Skye back. Because whose need is it?
Whose appreciation? Then Skye pulls away and J feels his body being shifted, and all of a sudden it’s Detroit kissing him, kissing him hard, and then Skye eases J away from Detroit and takes control of kissing J again.
This time, when Skye’s done, they hold out a hand to block Detroit.
There are more cheers from the crowd than ever before. J tries to laugh himself out of it, retreat from the mic, retreat from the wedded couple.
“Well, well, well!” Sarah Burnheart quacks into the mic. “I’ll bet your sister’s wedding wasn’t like that, Detroit!”
J puts his guitar back in its case. He walks off the stage.
He wonders if anyone even remembers the songs.
Except Skye. He’s pretty sure Skye does.
“Now, if there’s any objection to these two tying the knot, now’s the time to object. Because if you don’t, I’m going to be sure to use the powers vested in me by the Church of the Internet.”
J is trying to avoid eye contact with the crowd, but he looks up when nobody speaks out. He’s sure Skye said there were a bunch of people prompted to derail the wedding.
But none of them are saying anything.
Sarah Burnheart looks like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. “No one?”
J looks at Skye, who seems about to pass out.
They don’t want this to happen. But they aren’t fearless enough to object.
Come on, people, J thinks.
Detroit finds it hysterical. He takes a ring out of his pocket. Not a wedding ring.
“Just something I had hanging around,” he tells the crowd. “From my days performing as Pubic Zirconia.”
The crowd whoops.
“Going once!” Sarah calls.
Skye’s eyes meet J’s again.
The message is clear: Help .
“Going twice!”
Nothing. No one.
Fuck it, J thinks. Then he calls out, “I object!”
The crowd turns to him. They are not happy.
“The wedding singer objects!” Sarah Burnheart is incredulous. “Why do you object? You want back in on the action?”
Skye deserves someone who will truly love them, he wants to say.
But how can he say that?
So instead he says, “This whole thing is a sham. My sham. You’re all here so I could debut two new songs.
This is something my record company likes us to do, surprising strangers to launch new music.
It’s huge on Swedish TikTok. Detroit and Skye are just playing along.
They have no desire to get married. There’s no such thing as the Church of the Internet. ”
(There actually is, but J doesn’t know that.)
J has faced some tough crowds, but actual booing is rare. The Brooklyn performance art community does not like being scammed. At least not by a singer-songwriter.
“I think you need to leave,” Sarah Burnheart says into the mic. This gets some applause.
J doesn’t have to be asked twice. He takes his guitar, and the crowd parts for him. People say, “Are you for real?” and, “There’s no way those songs get traction on TikTok, not even in Sweden,” and, “Well, the kiss was a nice touch—c’mon, it was .”
Out on the sidewalk, he reaches into his pocket to check his phone for directions. As he does, he hears someone call his name and turns to see Skye coming out the door of the bar, alone.
“Hi,” they say.
“Hello,” J replies. “That was...something.”
“I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”
“I got you into this mess in the first place.”
Skye shakes their head. “The mess was already there. You just managed to find a reason for it to be on a stage tonight. Which was, in retrospect, maybe a mistake.”
“I’m the last person to give relationship advice, but...you should be with someone whose vows match yours. They don’t have to be the same. But they should match.”
“I know. But I think the important thing for tonight was...well, not getting married.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“I know, I know.” The two of them hang there for a moment; there’s either a lot more to say or nothing more to say, and both instinctually retreat to the latter.
Skye goes on, “I suppose I should get back in and make sure Sarah doesn’t forge my signature on whatever paperwork she printed out from the internet.
But...I hope you don’t mind, but can I ask you one more favor? ”
“Sure,” J says. He knows it’s not going to be an invitation to the after party.
“Can you send me the song? I just...it would mean a lot to me to be able to listen to it. Just a little life raft I can keep with me at all times.”
“Of course,” J tells them.
“One last hug,” Skye says. J obliges. They hold for as long as Skye needs. Then they say goodbye and Skye heads back into the bar.
J genuinely has no memory of how to get back to Julia’s apartment. He hates that he is so dependent on his phone, but it’s either that or catch a cab. Except the address...is also on his phone.
He powers it back up, and while he’s on the maps app, he gets a notification of a text message from V. He quickly swipes over to read it. He’s expecting an excuse, or maybe to be told to stop texting her.
Instead she’s written:
The three of you make such a beautiful throuple .
Best wedding I’ve been to in years .