Put on this ballcap, sign here, and we’re done
The next two couples take a pass on having a wedding singer, but J then quickly returns for wedding number three. This time it is just the couple, Mahogany and TJ, and a friend—they didn’t tell the interns much besides the fact that TJ has a dog named Lucy, who they wanted to be a witness for the ceremony, but apparently when it comes to legal paperwork, dogs don’t count. They ask if J wouldn’t mind being a witness instead. J, not really knowing what this meant, said yes.
His first response on seeing them is to think,Wow, they’re children. They are, in fact, each twenty-one, but that’s the tricky thing about age—the older you get, the younger twenty-one looks. They are dressed simply but respectfully for the occasion—her in a white summer dress, him looking a little awkward in a shirt and tie. Their friend is wearing a Beyoncé concert t-shirt. J wonders if this was a deliberate choice, or whether he was asked to be at the wedding while he was doing something else.
Because he is old enough that twenty-one looks really young, J feels the urge to tell them to stop for a second, really think about what they’re doing. It is clear from their body language how in love they are, and he wishes that this will be enough.
If Judge Pao, who is even older than J, has any hesitation, she doesn’t show it. She beams as if the room is full of family and friends. When she asks Mahogany and TJ if they’ve written their own vows, they look panicked. The judge quickly tells them not to worry and pulls two laminated cards out for them to read to each other. It is full of the standard pledges, to have and to hold, and both Mahogany and TJ stumble over them in their nervousness. It’s only as they are putting the rings on each other’s fingers that they start to truly smile, and when Judge Pao tells them they may now kiss as husband and wife, they make it a long one. Their friend videos the whole thing.
Mahogany and TJ step from the platform, ready to leave. Judge Pao reminds them there are some papers to sign, and also that J is going to sing a song for them. They seem to have forgotten the second part—J wonders if the interns really spoke to them or not. Nick gives him a little nod, and he realizes he has to play. He sings:
Hello my name is Lucy and I’m TJ’s dog and best friend
I’ll tell you how Mahogany came into our lives one evening
I was on TJ’s lap as he swiped on Tinder back and forth
When I saw Mahogany’s face I stopped him abruptly with my paw
I guess I like keeping my pack together, must be a dog thing
Other girls I’d growl at, but this one I liked by instinct
I’m a brilliant matchmaker but pickier than most,
the application list officially closed
the moment Mahogany got down on her knee and proposed
The couple and their friend don’t applaud, but J can tell he chose the right angle. Judge Pao asks J to come sign the marriage certificate as the second witness.
Once he’s signed his name, he gets shy thank-yous from both bride and groom, and a hasty display of TJ’s phone screen, whichshows a very happy-looking dog. Judge Pao doesn’t need to tell them it’s time to leave—they are out quickly, leaving J up with the judge.
“So young,” he says, because he needs to say it to someone.
“Yes, but they know what they’re doing. For the most part,” the judge says. “You can tell the ones who don’t really know what they’re doing. But I marry them anyway. Because it’s their call, not mine.”
The thing about meeting someone when you’re both in your thirties is that you know you’ll never be truly young together. But still, you can try.
Julia had been home when J finally got to her apartment from JFK, and after he put his things down, she made them some tea, and they sat in the kitchen and caught up. V was the first thing he talked about, and he kept talking for about fifteen minutes. Was he any different from a teenager as he did this?
He waited until it was late at night, which was a mistake because his body thought it was even later at night than the clocks showed. Or maybe it wasn’t a mistake at all, because he was so tired that his actions felt like they had all the consequence of a dream. After so much build-up, after so many times deciding not to text to her, it ended up being so easy to just pick up his phone, click on her name, and knock a few letters into the shape of words.
I’ve made it to New York,he wrote.I wanted to let you know the plane didn’t crash.
Five minutes later, her reply:
I’m glad. Aren’t you tired?
Yes,he typed.But happy to be here. “Here” being Julia’s apartment. Not the Ace Hotel.
OK. Thank you for that information.
Is this a bad time?
Is 12:34 a.m. ever a good time?
Were you sleeping?
