Among his close friends he listened to expressions of delight that he and Luis were finally tying the knot, words of admiration for their relationship that he had never heard them say aloud. Perhaps there had never been an opportunity, and he wondered if that was another reason people married, to give permission for a flood of unabashed sentimentality. Even complete strangers wanted to bask in the glow of a love story they knew nothing about either because it reminded them of their own or reignited their desire for one of their own. For a few hours that upstairs room was one of the happiest places in London.
By the third hour events became blurred, with the party turning so rowdy that passers-by heard the racket from the street. Intrigued by the scenes at the first-floor windows they entered the downstairs bar to find out if this was a special night which anyone could join and because there was no guest list and no bouncer no one was turned away.
Among the crowd Danny’s theatre friends arrived, professional performers, one woman dressed in the traditional garb of a groom, in black tie and long tails with a top hat, the other a ballet dancer, a muscular man with a sprinter’s legs dressed as a virgin bride in white lace with a silkorganza veil. The third was a renowned Blackpool-based drag artist, dressed as a vicar, complete with dog collar and a bumblebee-blonde wig. Soon the mock bride and groom were freestyling on a tabletop with the drag vicar dancing on another table doing a Moulin Rouge can-can with her clergy frock before presiding over a mock wedding ceremony, holding a book which looked alarmingly like the Bible until it turned out to be a hardback copy of a Harry Potter title with the dust jacket removed. Danny turned to find Luis, hoping he was laughing, except he wasn’t. Briefly Danny worried they were mocking marriage, that they were a group fundamentally incapable of taking the institution seriously, even at an engagement party. But before he could talk to Luis, Danny was summoned up, joining the tabletop dance, resulting in a roar of appreciation. When instructed to jump he did so without the slightest worry for his safety, carried aloft before being deposited on the floor in front of the manager who was saying something about a smashed sink.
Guided to the men’s toilets Danny saw a porcelain sink had been ripped off the wall and now lay in pieces on the floor. It was so surreal, that he thought it was an elaborate practical joke, pointing out that while he had promised not to smash any glasses, he’d never promised not to smash any sinks. Luis arrived to better handle the situation, freeing Danny to return to the party where he climbed back upon the tabletop calling for silence. The room was hushed for the first time since the party began. The DJ paused the music while the guests began demanding, ‘Speech! Speech! Speech!’
Danny held up his hands and cried out with the fervour of a trade unionist, ‘Fuck the speeches!’
After that his memory was blank aside from one final fragment, outside in Soho at night, spinning round a lamppost like a man auditioning for a musical, calling out to anyone in earshot, ‘I’m getting married!’
Chapter SixteenThe Hangover
The last time Danny had been hungover was after Emma and John’s anniversary celebration and the contrast between the two parties was making his hangover worse. Emma’s wedding anniversary was well-behaved with a lavish buffet, melon-mint cocktails, a champagne bar and articulate speeches. His engagement had been commemorated with smashed sinks, broken glasses and barely an hour’s supply of finger food. Most glaringly of all he hadn’t just failed to give an emotional speech, he’d mocked the very idea of them for a cheap laugh, missing the opportunity to tell his friends how much he loved Luis or how remarkable the prospect of marriage was.
Having been sick, Danny accepted a glass of sparkling water from Luis and the two of them perched on the edge ofthe bathtub. Danny apologized. ‘I’m so sorry. I panicked. I thought no one would show up. I had this fear of telling the world that we were getting married and the world shrugging its shoulders. I don’t know why I needed it to be so crowded. Or why I kept drinking. I feel ashamed.’
Luis knew the meaning of the word shame too well: waking up in the morning and converting memories most people celebrated such as sex, joy and love, into memories they tormented themselves with. Luis was stern.
‘I know you feel bad right now, but you arranged a fun night for all of our friends and people were happy for us.’
Danny remarked, ‘I’m just so glad Emma wasn’t there.’
Luis corrected him.
‘She was there. John stayed at home with the kids, but she came. She was drinking pornstar martinis with an actual porn star.’
As Danny winced, Luis added, ‘She said it was one of the best parties she’s ever been to. You’re jealous of her parties. She’s jealous of our parties.’
Danny stood up, running his face under the tap.
‘Trust me, Luis: she’s not jealous of us.’
At hearing this, Luis’s mood changed.
‘Danny, you haven’t asked if I had a good time.’
Now Danny did feel shame.
‘Last night all I was thinking about was whether you were having a good time.’
But Luis didn’t accept this.
‘That’s not all you were thinking about.’
Luis walked out of the bathroom leaving Danny with the conclusion that he had failed the very person the party was intended to celebrate. After rinsing with mouthwash he followed him, belatedly understanding that Luis had been the responsible adult last night. In the kitchen Luis readied some coffee.
‘The problem is you don’t know what you want. You want the crazy party in Soho with strangers off the street, but then you wake up and feel ashamed because it wasn’t done the right way. Except you can’t say what the right way is. You want to put on a big show except who is the show for? It’s not for me. It’s not even for you. It’s for other people. But we never cared what other people thought.’
Danny pushed back, ‘Sure we did. We just pretended we didn’t to make it less painful.’
Luis accepted the point.
‘It was never more important than what we felt.’
Danny briefly considered questioning Luis’s assertion. What other people thought had always been of paramount important to Luis. Instead, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
‘I screwed up. I admit it. You were right. Maybe the point of an engagement party is to screw up so we get it right at the wedding.’
