“This isn’t a cult,” McCarthy tells his brother. “It’s like a retirement community.”
“All volunteer driven,” Zephyr says cheerfully. He has new bells and beads in his beard for the occasion.
“They have amazing honey,” Mandy says. “Look at that!”
McCarthy’s dog, freshly washed, sports a garland of flower that matches the one Truman is wearing. Truman also wears a little white vest because I have standards.
The dachshund sits on McCarthy’s foot.
Rainbow blows her French horn.
“It is time.” Crocus spreads her arms, the lavender-colored, gauzy kaftan flapping in the breeze. She, too, is wearing nothing underneath.
I clutch my Stanley cup and sip it. The wine cooler I have in it is giving me warm, fuzzy feelings that numb the sunburn and the fact that McCarthy’s family’s first impression of my family is this effigy to West Coast lunacy.
“Goddess,” Crocus warbles.
I wince as the yodeling starts, along with the banging of Tibetan metal bowls.
“Is this a singing wedding?” McCarthy’s brother Hawthorne hisses.
McCarthy kicks him.
“I’m not complaining, just…”
I make a face as Rainbow joins the yodeling and stoically drink my wine cooler.
Rainbow has Zephyr and my mom clasp hands while Rainbow shakes a pinecone at them and chants in Sanskrit.
“This is some hippie bullshit.” Granny Mavis takes a swig of mead then passes it around.
“I think it’s lovely.” Mandy clasps her hands.
“Willow,” Zephyr announces, gazing at my mom, “you make me one with the universe. I turn to you like a sunflower to a moonbeam. I am blessed that in space and time, our two souls have found one another.”
“Zephyr.” My mom looks up at him adoringly. Her skin is perfect and dewy. She looks happy, taken care of. “You are the harmony to my melody, the rainwater to my garden. You are life eternal.”
Rainbow carefully laces a chain of fresh jasmine around their hands. “I join you under the goddess.”
We applaud. Hannah and Mandy sniffle as the two kiss.
Zephyr beckons me up.
“Oh no, I—”
“Come on.” He and my mom each grab my arms so we make a circle.
“Jenna, you’re our favorite person in the world. Though I’m not your birth father—”
“The fact that you didn’t use the term ‘sperm giver’ means you’re my favorite person here,” I whisper to him.
“I still hope I can be a mentor and maybe a father figure to you one day,” he says solemnly. “I’m here for you as a vessel of love if you need it.”
“Thanks, Zephyr,” I say and sincerely mean it. “You have been there for me even when I didn’t ask or think I needed it. I’m really glad your souls found each other in the great ocean of life.”
Rainbow wraps my wrist in the braided chord of flowers. “And we have now made a family.”
Zephyr and my mom give me a hug, and my mom kisses my cheek.
