I set the trees on either side of the tombstone, and then rearranged them three times. There was nothing left to do, but the words I wanted to say were stuck.
Nothing about this day was traditional, and it was possible that we'd unintentionally veered hard into anti-wedding territory. Every time there was a discussion of wedding details, "fuck tradition" was the battle cry and chorus, and that prevailed through it all.
Save for one small exception: I hadn't seen Tiel since last night.
We'd gone to Sligo's, where Ellie's band put on a last-minute performance. All it took was one Instagram post hinting at their location, and the venue was packed beyond capacity. I'd known that her band was thriving, but the turnout was overwhelming. Ellie's girlfriend, Alexandra, only chuckled at my shock and explained their European shows were selling outarenas.
The music continued late into the evening, and when the venue finally kicked us out, we made our way to the South Street Diner where Ellie and Tiel took turns sharing wedding performance horror stories.
And Tiel said my sense of humor was dark.
It started with Tiel describing a wedding where she and Ellie performed in a string quartet, but the groom came down with a case of cold feet—Ellie, Alexandra, and the six band dudes all turned pointed glares in my direction at that—and they were forced to play for two hours while the not-so-happy couple argued in the rear of the chapel.
And the stories only got worse—can't-look-away worse—from there. The hung-over best man who puked on the groom's back. The couple that wanted "Pour Some Sugar On Me" as their recessional song, and all the others who requested theStar Warstheme song. The springer spaniel ring bearer who plowed down the beachside aisle, took out the minister, and went chasing after a flock of seagulls. The groom's ex-girlfriend who crashed the ceremony to object, and was promptly heckled by the groom's family. The bride who said yes, then no, then yes again.
It was almost cathartic, dredging up the best of the worst from their "two broke band geeks" period, and laughing them away because it alleviated the pressure of this day. As non-traditional as we wanted this wedding to be, it was still awedding, and one fraught with stressors. Cobbling together an event with less than four weeks of prep time. The element of surprise. Tiel's family—or lack thereof. Turning our home into a youth hostel.
When we returned to the firehouse, pancake-drunk and exhausted, Ellie was quick to yank Tiel away from me.
"I'm minding your purity tonight," Ellie said to Tiel.
Tiel wrapped Ellie in a tight embrace, their cheeks pressed together and their eyes squeezed shut. "There's not much left to mind," Tiel said. "The prepster's taken itall."
"Get your freckled ass over here, prepster." Ellie reached for me, and then we had Tiel giggling and sandwiched between us. "This should be wrong on every level, but somehow it isn't."
"Hey!" Riley called from the stairs. He bounded down the steps in nothing more than his loose Batman pajama pants and tackled us. "I want the snuggles, too."
"Okay,nowit's wrong," Ellie murmured from somewhere under Riley's arm. "Dude. I'm in your armpit. That's not okay."
"What are you talking about?" Riley asked, tightening his hold on us. "I'm delightful."
"It's still an armpit," Ellie cried as she wiggled free. She pointed to his pajamas, and the dick peeking out of the front opening. "I knew I felt something on my leg. Put that thing away."
"Jesus, Riley," I said. "Can you keep it in your pants for a bit?"
He shuffled his bottoms back into order, and jerked his shoulder. "He's friendly. Can't blame him for wanting to say hi."
Ellie then pulled Tiel into the recently constructed rooms we'd assigned her and promised to look after the bride-to-be until the ceremony.
I'd forgotten how to sleep alone. I couldn't make sense of the bed without Tiel nestled beside me, and it felt too big, too empty. Nothing was right, and I must have resembled an anxious old dog, circling and circling in search of comfort until surrendering to inadequate fits of restlessness and dreamless sleep.
The last time I'd awoken, bolting up with a strangled grunt and blinking at our room until I remembered Tiel was in Ellie's care, I gave up on the endeavor altogether. That was when I decided to go to the cemetery.
The evergreens didn't look right, and I adjusted them again. "I've been thinking about this a lot," I started, "and I hate that you're not here, and you won't watch me marry the most amazing woman tonight. I hate that you don't know Tiel. I hate that I'm standing here, talking to grass and stone and forcing myself to believe you can hear me because Ineedyou to hear me today. I hate that you left before I was ready for you to go."
My gaze cut to the side, in the direction I worked damned hard to avoid every time I was here. It was a game that my mind played: if I didn't see it, I didn't have to think about it.
Abouthim.
Angus.
My father.
No amount of wilderness therapy could erase the mark he'd made on my life, but staring at his grave didn't send my anger into overdrive anymore. His was a basic tombstone, adorned with nothing more than his name and the years of his life, and it simplywas. It didn't stand as a monument to my misery.
I turned back to my mother. "The last thing you said to me was that I'd be all right." I swallowed the tension swelling in my chest. "And I didn't believe that until now. Not really. I didn't understand how that could be possible, but I think I've figured it out now. I think I know that I am. That I'm all right."
"The catering is hereand set up, anddelicious," Riley said around the Sharpie cap between his teeth. "I've had a bite of everything, and I approve. Okay, yes, I ate an entire tray of corndogs but they said they brought extra."
