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“I wish you all could come down with me.” I swallowed the tears that pricked at the corner of my eyes. Hastily, Penny bent down, pulling a tissue out of the front of the built-in vanity and handing it to me.
“I know, but this is how you wanted to do it, and we will respect that.” My mother touched her hand to my face, and I closed my eyes, nuzzling into the warmth.
I would’ve given anything to have them - all of them - with me. To have my father walk me down the aisle. To let my niece and nephew be the flower girl and ring bearer, running up to Mickey to hand him the simple band we’d ordered and had express shipped last week. To have our friends and family give us their blessing, in person, for our union.
But after the constant harassment from Mickey’s family - the texts, the passive aggressive social media posts - I just couldn’t stomach the idea of more shit for them to hold over my head, if my family came and his wasn’t even aware we were doing it. So we decided, together, to make it intimate. Vic would marry us. My friend Jasmine would take pictures, so we could share when we were ready. The idea made my heart hurt, but I knew, deep down, it was the right call.
I followed my mother out of the restroom, and she handed me a simple, white bouquet that matched the flower pattern on my dress. I’d picked out my clothes in just a few minutes, stopping into an off-the-rack formal store between running to see Bex for the first time in weeks and going to the courthouse to file the more complicated paperwork for obtaining a marriage license without Mickey appearing in the office.
Outside the door of the hospital room, several staff members from the floor lined the wall. In the weeks we’d been here, off and on, we’d grown close. They knew that outside of that hospital, I was the one doing what they’re doing here. Changing his briefs. Catheterizing him. Managing his medications. All of the unromantic things that come with being a caregiver.
But they also saw our movie nights, cuddled up in the hospital bed with a bag of microwave popcorn. They heard my sobs through the bathroom door when we got bad news from the latest oncology fellow to visit. They felt my silent, steely frustration when messages from Melissa or Oscar rolled in, not-so-subtly implying that I was holding him hostage when in reality, he wanted nothing more than to continue fighting, to meet the goal he’d had for the last several months - to meet his new nephew, due in the spring.
“Piper.” I turned, and at one side of the door was my father. His graying beard was trimmed short, his tan skin crinkling into a smile across his face. His eyes welled with tears as he pulled me close, whispering in Italian, “I’m so proud of you.” I let out a choked sob, trying to hold back my own tears as he pulled back, holding out his arm. “You ready?” I nodded, using the tissue in my hand to swipe at my eyes.
I laced my arm through his, my bouquet in my other hand, and we walked toward the elevators together, the line of hospital staff grinning as we go. No, this wasn’t the fairytale I’d hoped for. But the love I felt for Mickey was something real - something tangible. I knew we deserved this step in the journey we share. And as my father kissed me on the cheek and I stepped into the elevator, watching the doors slide close on his tear-stained face, I felt a bubble of happiness well up in my chest. The first one I’d felt in a long, long time.
Present Day
“Youdon’thavetotake it if you don’t want to,” Carla says after a minute. I glance up at her, and she’s giving me a small smile, likely knowing exactly where my head was at. “But I’ve never seen you take that thing off when you go out.”
“This feels…different,” I respond, twirling the ring on my finger, a set of welded gold bands with a single diamond.
“Different how?” she asks. I purse my lips, trying to find the words.
“Everyone else I’ve gone out with, slept with, since Mickey…I don’t know. They didn’t know me before, right?” I pause. “Somehow it feels more intimate, going out with Fitz.” She seems to think on that for a second before responding.
“You don’t need me to tell you what to do. But you’ve said enough times that he wouldn’t have wanted you to spend your whole life alone.” I do know that, because Mickey said it, point blank, in the days leading up to his death. In that cold hospital room, while we watched the in-room entertainment on his TV, he told me through struggling breaths to be happy. We both knew what was coming, at that point.
I stare at the rings again, and close my eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath before opening them again, looking right at my own reflection.
“This is a part of me,” I say finally, holding my hand up. “It’s a part of who I am. I’m not going to change that for Fitz. Or for anyone, really.” Carla gives me a small smile in the reflection of my mirror. “Now, you can leave or you can watch me get naked,” I add confidently, and Carla turns on her heel as I slide off my robe, nearly hitting Bex in the face with it as I toss it in the corner and miss the laundry basket by a few feet. She starts, darting out of the room after Carla.
By the time I’m sliding on my heels, my phone buzzes again.
FITZ WESTFALL
Your carriage awaits. If you have a hair scarf, I would bring it.
I smile at my screen, replying with a quickBe down momentarily, grabbing a silk scarf from my closet. Leave it to Fitz Westfall to know what a hair scarf is.
When I step out of my room, Carla lets out a low whistle from her perch on the couch. I flip her the bird.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, bitch. You look hot as hell.” Nervously, I grin and pop my heel out behind me, tiling my head back and letting my curls fall. She claps excitedly. “How do you feel?”
“Nervous?” It comes out as a question, but she nods.
“It’s ok to be nervous. But I think it will be great.” She pushes up from the couch, crossing the space between us and gripping at my arms with her hands. She’s dressed for a night in - sweatpants and a tank top - but her eyes, brown and magnetic, bore into me. “Don’t psych yourself out. Do you have everything you need?” She peers at my tiny purse slung over my shoulder. “And by everything, I mean, did you pack condoms and your meds?” I don’t even fight the eye roll. I’ve had an IUD for a while, but my better-safe-than-sorry mentality left me wanting to be sure.
“Yes, you presumptuous mother hen.” I open the bag to show her. “Look, I even packed a little face wipe so I’m not sleeping in my makeup.”
“If you do any sleeping,” she says, and then pets my head like I’m Bex. “I’ve taught you well, Padawan.”
“I’m leaving,” I reply, laughing, and she looks between me and the door.
“Is he not…” She points at the door behind me, and I shake my head.
“I’m meeting him at the car downstairs.” Carla crosses her arms. “Don’t give me that look. I know you and Alex will rip him limb from limb if he hurts me - he knows it, too. We don’t need you to remind us.” She narrows her eyes at me.
