Now, in front of me, in the left pews, is Emily with her girlfriend, Maya. The three of us have become close friends. I told her what I once thought about Theo and her having something last summer.
“Are you crazy?” she laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
I felt stupid then for how utterly out of control I let my imagination go, creating a whole narrative out of nothing. Maya fixes a stray hair on Emily’s head now, tucking it into place behind her ears. They had been long-distance that entire summer, and I was too blinded by my own insecurity to see it.
Two rows ahead of them are my grandfather and aunt. Elizabeth looks stiff and a little lost. She wears a powder-blue dress with a matching blazer. Her hair is impeccably coiffed in an elaborate updo. We’ve also been reconnecting this last year, and I’ve found it a pleasant shock how well we get along. She’s different from Rose, uptight in all the areas where Rose is relaxed, but she is strong in her own way. When she sees me, her lips spread into a thin pink smile.
Two people down is Theo. He looks tanner, older after his travels. His hair is cropped and his suit is a blue that matches his eyes, the color of the Hudson. For once, his suit isn’t too big on him, but his smile still is. He grins that large, toothy smile I love with the two front teeth slightly longer than the rest. I return it, almost dropping my bouquet.
My dad, James, is on the other side. His hair gelled and his expression curiously polite. We’ve been slowly reconnecting, too. It’s slow going but it’s better than nothing. Josie is beside him; Tommy’s sister, Rachel, next; and to her left, my friend Jade, her hair now streaked purple instead of pink. After we made up, she and Mark stayed a few days with us the last week of summer, once Thomas had left for his new house. When we told her about the saga with Lottie, she agreed to take a look at the manuscript. She loved it so much thatshe ended up sharing it with her boss. Now we’re discussing publication options.
At the altar, I take my spot and watch as my mom comes next. A hush falls over the room.
She looks beautiful in a white linen wedding gown. Her veil has colored flowers stitched into the gossamer. Tommy, beside me, is beaming. His daughters stand in a row, lined up expectantly. They were protective of their father at first, but over time, they have grown steadily more welcoming. I hope someday we’ll be good friends.
I know when my mom gets to the front, when she marries Tommy, it will be an end to something—a shift in our dynamic—and a beginning of something else. But I’m also starting to realize that not all change is bad. Some of it can be great, actually.
The reception is held just a few streets away at the Siasconset Casino. String lights hang from the arched, wood-paneled ceiling. On the stage is a band, and the tables are covered in white cloths and wildflowers. What seems like the entire town has shown up. In Rose’s hair is a blue brooch designed by Josie. I watch from my seat as Tommy twirls her on the dance floor and everyone claps.
“Hi, stranger,” says Theo. He takes the empty seat next to me. “Long time, no see.”
“It’s been like a month, right? Hardly a long time.”
After last summer, we decided to just stay friends for the time being. He sent me pictures of his travels, and I sent him updates on my portrait project. Theo is starting a graduate program in Boston in a few weeks. It’s easier this way. Besides, all I care about is that I get to keep him in my life in some fashion.
“True, but you’ll be seeing a lot more of me very soon,” he says.
I tear my eyes away from the dance floor to look at him straight on. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I didn’t want to tell you until everything was squared away, but I got accepted into New York University’s teaching program this summer off the wait list.”
“What?” I reach for his arm. “That’s amazing, Theo. Really.”
“So, all I’m saying is that there will be plenty of chances for us to hang out.” He smiles.
I look at his endearing freckles, a face I adore. Is it romantic love or just friendship? I’m still not sure, but I do love him, however ridiculous that may seem. Finally, we will be in the same place for an uninterrupted amount of time, and there will be plenty of opportunities to figure it out.
“Remember that story I told you about how deer came to Nantucket?” I ask him.
“What?” he says, laughing at the turn in conversation. “Yes, why?”
“I think what I like about that story so much is that the town was so fixated on the deer’s loneliness that they made this grand, romantic gesture, which ended up failing spectacularly. But I still appreciate it. I appreciate the effort, and optimism, and hope.”
Maybe romance shouldn’t matter in the face of larger, more systemic societal issues. Maybe art doesn’t either. But, as Lottie said in her letter, nevertheless it does. In the midst of so much despair, love is what we do best. Art is the best part of us.
Theo’s face looks confused, but there’s a hint of his big smile threatening to break through the surface. In his hand is his place card. He twists it around. “You know,” he says. “I forgot to mention that you got my name wrong on the invitation.”
I grab it from his hands and check again. I spent weeks putting the guest list together, handcrafting every place card. The ink is gold, and each one has hand-drawn roses on it.
“What? No, I didn’t.” I check it again: Theo Cohen. It looks perfect.
“Yeah, well, technically I go by Theo, but my real first name is Harold.” He squints at me, teasing. “Harold Cohen: HC. We have a lot to still learn about each other, I guess.”
I think back to the psychic’s prediction a year ago. “You will have two great loves,” she’d said. “One greater than the other, but both have a first name that starts with the letterH.”
When everything with Henry didn’t work out, I assumed she was wrong. Now I wonder if I just wasn’t hearing the full prediction. After all, it’s impossible to realize the moral of the story when you’re smack in the middle of living it.
“Wow,” is all I can say. “I guess you’re right.”
