"Yes, I know, but I had wanted my bagel UN-toasted."
"Well, he was just trying to help... you did call him lazy."
"Yes," Alex griped, "and now he's lazy, and incompetent, I clearly stated that my bagel should be UN-toasted."
Today, Alex would accept nothing less than perfect. If all went right, it would be a blissful day that he would always remember and hold dear to his heart. He had waited much too long for this particular day, and with the world changing, there was no time like the present. The ceremonial happenings of a wedding, his wedding to be exact, were in full swing. He mentally patted himself on the back for everything and anything that had gone into the planning. For in fact, he was the genius behind even the most minuscule of details. From the pink posies (Pat's favorite) lining the stretch of aisle toward the hand-crafted gazebo where the priest was to stand, to the thoughtful homemade cookies (a recipe which he was famous for) decadently packaged and placed at specific intervals on the guests' tables as party favors. Of course everything would be spectacular.
Alex finished half of the now cold bagel (which had hardened due to the toasting), and tossed the rest into the posh silver waste bin beside him. No matter, he was too excited to eat anyway.
"Relax, would you? Everything's going to go off without a hitch," she teased.
"Good god," Alex smiled wryly, "sometimes you still act as though we're four, and the only thing that can go wrong is Barbie having a bad hair day."
"Don't I wish it! - I think it's about that time to kick you out of here though."
"Okay well...I'll catch up with you later, at the hotel. Whatever you do Ang, don't be late! I'll have your head." He chuckled, but with a serious undertone.
Cold feet was the farthest thing from his mind as he walked, rather, skipped down the small steps leading toward his sister's modernist apartment. The apartment itself, was an eyesore for passersby, but he had saved the day (as he liked to remind his sister often) with his tasteful styling of all that lay within. He had lucked out today, scoring the parking slot right in front of the simplistic building. Just as he was placing the key into the door of his fairly new midnight blue audi, memory flushed in:
It had been a gloomy Sunday, and Alex had gone to visit his sister, Angela, as always, for brunch. He had driven up to the same exact spot he was in now, and had almost hit someone. That someone had turned out to be the love of his life. Cliche, but it worked.
Entering the classy decorated venue was a delight, appealing to his senses (just as he had envisioned). Caterers were bumbling about and his assistant Bill was fussing with the lighting. Alex walked over to see what the problem was.
"Oh, thank god, someone sane, I told them which notch would set the correct ambiance" he sighed. "They just don't get it! Who is unable to tell the difference between eggshell white and-"
"Bill, it's my wedding, and you're the one about to have an aneurysm. I'll handle this while you go get us drinks."
"If only we all had your calm, Ghandi...two Black Russians it is."
There was a slightly sweet aroma coming from the various shades of pinks and purples, blended beautifully in floral arrangements hanging off the walls and sitting atop crisp white tablecloths:
The main attractions of the evening (besides Pat) were the tables he'd set up. The ugliness that would seep into their lives, if only for a short time, was shadowed beneath crisp white linen. This was the important day of families meeting, hopefully meshing, and accepting each other. Although, both Pat and Alex knew it didn't quite take well on first glance, not because of the different colors of their skin, but because they were also, perhaps mainly, out of the norm in general. They always knew they would make it work, and they had done just that.
Boy do I look sharp, Alex thought to himself, as he finished tying the traditional bow on his on his tuxedo. With lapels at just the right length, and cuff links shiner than a newly coined penny, he stepped out of the groom's 'waiting room', knowing it was time. On his way down the plush carpeted steps in the hall, he passed an exquisite abstract painting, immediately reminding him of Pat, and all was right:
The art show itself, was just about over, and Pat and he were having a tiff about the painting he wanted to purchase. "It's hideous Dear, really, I'll gag if I have to wake to that every morning," Pat frowned. Alex laughed, for just the previous day; the decision of moving in together had been a success. Compromising, however, was still under construction.
Alex wiped the tear out of the corner of his eye, as Pat gracefully came into view. The melodious wedding song wafted sweetly from the fine string quartet and throughout the room. Friends and family smiled as Pat passed by. What a relief. It had taken some time to get to, but there they were. Together.
The priest commenced his spoken words, but all Alex could manage was a dead-on stare at the priest's face:
It showed their commitment that they could handle such ignorance from others. That day was so vivid. It was a light afternoon picnic in the park, when that foul old man (the one with the priest's features) walked toward them cursing horrible nonsense saying something along the lines of things not being the way they used to, and he hoped they had fun burning in hell. He was surely crazy, but they had left anyway, determined not to let it sour their day. Their engagement day. If anything, it had only made their love and connection stronger.
"I now pronounce you, Man and Man," the priest finished. "You may kiss your husband; and it is my honor to present to you all, Mr. and Mr. Thompson-Black."
Laughing and merriment filled the hotel till the close of the day. It signaled a new beginning for not only, Pat and Alex, but for the world's journey of acceptance with them.
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