At Borough Hall they told them they had a surprise for their big day
A wedding singer from Sweden had offered to write them a serenade
When they saw it was who they thought it was they almost dropped the cake
That David had spent the whole night to bake
The wedding singer took a good look at them and wondered who they were
He noticed the way that Christopher comforted his nervous partner
And how David reciprocated the gesture with a kiss
And he thought: the reason I sing at weddings...is this
Many photos are taken, and Nick assures the grooms repeatedly that he’ll forward his recording of the song to them.
“I wish you could join us,” the bearded groom says.
“Me too,” J replies, and it’s not a lie. “But we have to do a few more weddings for the piece.”
“A wedding singer’s job is never done, I guess! Do you live in New York now?”
J smiles. “I could never live in New York.”
It’s Nick who asks, “Why not?”
“It’s just not a place for me. Too big. Too busy. Too full of itself.”
Judge Pao does her velvet-glove routine to keep things moving. After the Abramovitz party takes one last round of selfies and leaves, Nick checks his phone for new texts from the interns and starts laughing.
“What?” J asks.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Nick says. “The next couple is namedThorandMeta.”
* * *
They don’t see J at first when they walk into the room, and J completely understands why. Meta is the first member of a wedding party today to have treated Borough Hall as if it were The Plaza, in terms of attire. At its heart her dress is a simple white, sleeveless, satin sheath. But over it is something that J can only think of as the most elaborate, dazzling fishing net he’s ever encountered. It’s woven in thicker ropes, but each rope is made of glittery filaments, which give Meta the air of frost in sunlight, even under the municipal lamps.
Thor cannot take his eyes off her. And Meta, at least at first, cannot take her eyes off her dress, trying to prevent it from sweeping too much up off the floor.
“Welcome,” Judge Pao says. Then even she can’t help but add, “That’s quite a dress.”
“Thank you,” Meta says, lifting her hem to step onto the wedding platform. It is only after she does this that she and Thor see J. He can see it happening—Meta turns, sees him, starts to turn to Nick next, but then stops as if someone inside her has stepped on the brake. She looks back at J and elbows Thor to take a look.
“I can’t believe it!” Thor says, breaking out of his Meta reverie with a grin. He leaps down and gives J a huge hug. J hugs back, because to not do so would be even more awkward than doing so.
“When they told us they had a singer, I had no idea...” Thor says. “I mean, what are the odds? This isso cool.”
Meta has not moved from her perch. Meta does not appear to think J’s presence is so cool.
“Oh fuck,” Thor says, realization dawning. “This wedding is a secret. You can’t tell anyone. Not even V. You have to promise.”
“Of course, of course,” J says.
Thor turns to Nick. “And you can’t use our names.”
“No names,” Nick says. Though he can hardly keep the curiosity off his face. Who are these people?
