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Cassie
I’d found it. Frankie had sent the wedding footage from city hall so long ago, and I’d downloaded it, thinking that someday when it was all over I’d remix a sample of the hilarious orange-shirted officiant for a song. That part when he said, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Pagan, I got ’em all.
I sat on my bed. After Fleetwood Friday, everything had felt like a dream: signing a contract, loading Toby’s drums into a U-Haul trailer that we’d pull with my car until we could afford a tour van, calling the lead singer of Dr. Dog to introduce ourselves.
I had thought about calling Luke upward of twenty million times after we had met up yesterday. But I didn’t know what I wanted to say. Part of me was still mad that with the hearing and the feelings I was wrestling with, I had forgotten to be more angry at him. There’d been no guarantee that my mom was okay except his word, and the fact that so far, no one had messed with her. I guess I had to trust him.
And part of me was still sitting across from him, seeing how he tried not to be disappointed that I couldn’t make the Purple Heart ceremony. And it wasn’t just guilt. I wanted to be there. But when he had said it would be just a small thing, with family, I probably wasn’t included in that anymore. His sweet nephew, his funny brother and tough-as-nails sister-in-law, his father, whose wall was thick, but once you were in, you were in. I liked them. I wanted to see them, to say sorry for the trouble. To tell his father, especially, that his son was a good man. A brave man.
But of course I couldn’t call Luke and tell him this.
People in the social media age don’t just call people and tell them their feelings. Instead, they look at photos and videos of them, and convince themselves of how they should feel, right? Sure. I didn’t have any photos of Luke, but I had the video of our city hall wedding.
I pressed Play.
Frankie had forgotten to press Record at first, I remembered that now. He didn’t catch the part with the prayers. We’d had to start again.
The officiant looking pointedly at the camera, opening the Bible, pretending he was doing this for the first time.
As you embark on this marriage, God grant you both the serenity to accept the things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Can’t disagree with that, I had said.
A shot of our hands, Luke squeezing. Me trying not to laugh.
Every shot of the ceremony was weaved with my memories of what would come after it.
Do you, Cassie, take Luke to be your partner for life? Do you promise to walk by his side forever, and to love, help, and encourage him in all he does?
Goddamn, that was good!Luke had exclaimed when I played it for him over Skype, one of the first displays of enthusiasm I’d ever seen out of him. She will leave in the middle of a sentence, FYI, he’d told Yarvis, and I thought he was making fun of me. But no: I was just saying, honey. He was accepting me. Accepting that my work came first. Never trying to swallow me.
Me opening my mouth to say I do, but being interrupted. Luke glancing sideways.
Do you promise to take time to talk with him, to listen to him, and to care for him?
The image of his back as he entered Mom’s house, cane lifted, ready to protect us. Holding the glucose pack to my lips, letting my head fall on his shoulder. His slumped form as I washed his back in the bath, surrendering. He’d always remembered to thank me. Every time.
Will you share his laughter, and his tears, as his partner, lover, and best friend?
The feeling of his tears falling onto my head as we sat on the couch, into my hair, before we kissed. The feeling of safety. The feeling of making him laugh, even when we were sitting stiff on my futon, discussing the possibility of being convicted of a crime. Our crime.
I do, I had said.
I do, Luke had said.
By the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife.
The thick second of staring at each other in the eyes.
Go on and kiss her, son!
I’d kissed him. I thought it was just his lips that I’d liked.
Ow!I yelled. Fuck!
I laughed out loud on the hotel bed, watching my enraged face try to yank my hair out of his buttons.
What happened?
Luke laying a hand on my head.
We’d come so far since then. So much had happened. And we had come out with scars, with strength.
I rewound the footage to the beginning.
... the serenity to accept the things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
The courage to change the things I could. We still had a couple of hours before we needed to hit the road to Galveston.
I found my keys.
