Chapter 46
LEO
I DRIVE EAST FOR CAMERON’S wedding with the kids in the back seat.
The rest of the family drove out a day early to help set up.
I park near Rachel’s family home, a sunny, barn-shaped structure.
Across the way, rows of chairs sit in a clearing, with white bows on the backs.
A bright archway of flowers stands in the middle.
Over to the side, Josie is talking to the band and adjusting the microphone.
To the other side, Sadie sprints off excitedly, yelling, “Mommy, Mommy!”
I turn to see April, her hair pinned up.
She is wearing a lace, rose-colored dress, and I can’t look away.
The sun haloes her as she reaches out to Sadie.
It has only been three days since April stayed with me, and I brace myself for confusion.
Grief has a way of making people feel far and close at once—April in the car, whom I hated for setting Waco in motion; but then April in the night, whom I loved for staying with me even after I misdirected my anger.
And now we’re at a wedding where I am both groomsman and divorce petitioner.
April looks my way. “You curled her hair!”
I nod, and Sadie beams.
Then Rachel’s mom and Deb descend upon me, showing me where to line up, where to stand during the ceremony, and how the florist screwed up the bridal bouquet but luckily the two of them were keen enough to fix it.
I smile and tell them they look beautiful.
Deb scoops up Otto, who is pointing everywhere at everything.
He points with confusion at Billy, who is still refraining from picking up his grandchildren, per doctor’s orders.
As guests arrive and last-minute preparations happen, I sneak off to find Cameron, who is standing near the flower arch in his crisp gray suit. He smiles when he sees me.
“You ready for this?” I ask.
He looks toward the house, where Rachel waits. “Couldn’t be more ready.”
“Congratulations, man. I’m happy for you.” And I am. I remind myself that tonight is about his marriage, not my divorce. When the music picks up in volume, I hug him and hustle to my spot.
Our cue comes, and I extend my elbow to April. She loops her arm through mine.
I whisper, “You look beautiful.”
She tentatively touches her hair with her free hand.
We proceed down the aisle, splitting off as the drumbeat changes.
Josie transitions to the chorus of “Transatlanticism” as the crowd rises, turning expectantly. Rachel finally emerges on the arm of her father. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, and the train of her dress flows behind her as she walks toward Cameron, whose eyes turn pink.
They decided not to test for Alzheimer’s.
It wouldn’t change anything, Rachel said, her confidence untested yet real.
The music builds as she joins Cameron at the end of the aisle, her father stepping aside.
The sky is golden, and a soft wind moves through us like a breath of promise.
The moment is as beautiful as sorrow, and I do not look at April.
After the officiant pronounces them and everyone cheers, I exhale relief that it’s over, this display of a beauty that I had and lost.
I make a beeline for the reception tent, where I loosen my tie and grab a glass of prosecco. The crowd is lively and big, and Otto is already being passed around like an excited puppy. Josie is the first one on the dance floor, and I decide to go for a slice of Deb’s pie.
Apparently, my standing alone with a plate of pie is an invitation for a string of invasive remarks.
Good to see it’s amicable with you two.
So how are the kids handling everything?
Wonder where the happy couple is honeymooning.
Well, is it amicable at least?
Whitney Houston wants to dance with somebody, and Bruno Mars is too hot, and people can’t help but comment on other people.
I wonder how April is faring as we traverse opposite sides of the tent.
I catch her eye over the sea of wedding people, but this is when Sadie yanks on my hand to go dance.
So I let myself get whisked away by questions I much prefer to the earlier ones: Can I stand on your feet?
And, How did Cupid learn to shuffle, anyway?
And, Can we get more of Gramma Deb’s pie?
I can practically hear the speculations from the edge of the dance floor. Their crackling fear that whatever happened with us could happen with them, or their smugness that it hasn’t.
When we finish the Cupid Shuffle, I tell Sadie yes. Let’s get more pie.