Page 1 of Becoming Ben

1

Ben

My ex-wife looks radiantly happy, and I’m thrilled for her. I’m still a little confused, but not nearly as confused as I was when she sat me down four years ago and explained that we had to get a divorce. It took days of her explaining it one way and then another for me to come to terms with the idea that, as far as she was concerned, there was something vital missing in our marriage. I thought it was all fine. I had a good job that I liked well enough; she had a good job, we had a nice house, we shared hobbies, we had an awesome daughter, and we loved each other—it seemed good to me. I still don’t really know what she meant when she said that she needed passion and needed to be in love, but if she needed something else to be happy, I wanted her to have it.

Now, as I watch her walk down the aisle to her soon-to-be new husband, I can see there’s something different. She looked at me just yesterday with the same affection she always has, but now she looks at him like he’s the only person she can see. He looks at her the same way, and you can feel, even from a distance, that they can’t wait to be alone with each other. That’s what she was missing in our marriage, and I’ve come to the conclusion since our divorce that I’m just not capable of that kind of passion.

Our daughter Mandy is sitting next to me, smiling and a little teary, and I know she’s happy for her mother, too. There wasn’t really any animosity when Sherri and I parted ways, and there hasn’t been any since. Mandy rolled with the new reality pretty well, and when Sherri met Mitch and they fell in love, our family shape just adjusted. I really like Mitch. He’s strong and attractive, and he has never been less than pleasant to me. We’ve always gotten along well. As far as I’m concerned, one more person who loves my girls can only be a good thing.

Sherri’s brother Wyatt gives her hand to Mitch, and they just smile into each other’s eyes until the officiant finally clears her throat and begins. They have written their own vows, and everyone, including me, tears up a little at the heartfelt promises. I had a niggling worry that I might feel a little bitter hearing her make those promises to someone else, but that’s not the case. The carefully thought out, personal vows she’s exchanging with the man she obviously belongs with are miles away from the formally scripted lines that the twenty-year-olds we were said to each other by rote a lifetime ago.

The remainder of the ceremony goes quickly and without a hitch, then Mitch sweeps her off her feet with the closing kiss and carries her down the aisle. I’m not sure what the plan called for originally; maybe this was it, but he doesn’t miss a beat heading for Wyatt’s house and carrying her right through the door. I think it’s going to be a few minutes before they rejoin the party.

All of the guests who are able, including Mandy and I, lend a hand, and soon, the chairs are swept away, and the aisle and seating area has become a dance floor. Wyatt has really done a wonderful job of turning the lawn on the south side of the ranch house into a wedding venue. I know they’ve had several weddings here now, and it’s truly beautiful in a wonderfully rustic way. Wyatt and his husband Mark are helping carry the food for the reception out from the house kitchen, and I hurry over to help. As I get closer, I notice the same looks and touches between them that I’ve seen between Sherri and Mitch. I must be really tuned into the romance around me today. I can’t quite relate, but it does make me a little sentimental.

“Ben, thank you! I appreciate the extra hand,” Wyatt says as I grab a couple of trays in the kitchen. I’m happy to see you, but I’m a little surprised. How are you doing with everything?”

I must look as confused as I feel because he quickly elaborates, “You know, Sherri marrying someone else? I can’t imagine how that would make me feel. Not that it’s any of my business. Feel free to tell me to butt out.”

He looks over at Mark, and his eyebrows come together. “It’s just that if something happened between Mark and me, I know that I’d never recover.”

“Oh, I’m happy that she’s happy,” I reassure him cheerfully. “We’re still as good of friends as we’ve always been. In fact, nothing has really changed except the separate houses. I really like Mitch, he’s a great guy, and he sure makes her happy.”

Now it’s Wyatt and Mark’s turn to look confused, but I’m used to getting those looks when I try to explain to people that the way things have turned out between Sherri and me really is just fine as far as I’m concerned.

“Well,” Wyatt says, “We’re happy that you all have moved out here closer to us. Fort Collins means you’re only an hour or so away. Hopefully, we see a lot more of all of you now.” Wyatt’s quick acceptance of a situation he doesn’t understand is typical of the man. With the friendly reminder that he still considers me family, he drops the subject, and the three of us, along with the catering helpers, make quick work of setting the food out on the buffet tables.

Sherri and Mitch have gone for an informal wedding with a bohemian vibe that suits Sherri down to the ground. The decorations are fun and colorful, and the food is plentiful and eclectic. There’s a sound system rather than a DJ, and the tables around the edges of the dance floor all have a QR code where the guests can send the pictures they’ve taken. I’m sure there will be some great ones. Everyone looks as if they’re having a wonderful time.

When I run out of things I can help with in the kitchen, I wander in search of Mandy. I was sure she said she had a date coming, but so far, it’s just been me. I want to ask her if she’s okay or if maybe some jerk stood her up, but when I finally spot her, I see I needn’t have worried. My daughter is in the arms of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He has beautiful caramel skin, and his hair is done in short, bouncy locs. He has a wide, gorgeous smile as he hugs Mandy tightly against his broad chest, and just looking at him sends a shock of excitement through the pit of my stomach.

2

Trey

I’m late to the wedding. I suck. I didn’t mean to be late, but I couldn’t drive up last night like I meant to because of an emergency at the shelter where I volunteer, and I slept through my alarm this morning. Mandy is going to be so mad at me. She didn’t want to come to her mom’s wedding alone, and I was supposed to be her protection from the pain in the ass that is showing up to a wedding single. Never mind that I’m gay and seven years older than her. We've been friends since our first day of college. Because of my rough past, I got a late start to my higher education, and I was feeling very out of place among the 18-year-olds at freshman orientation. Then, a tiny, gorgeous ball of energy with pink hair sat down next to me and decided that we were besties. That was all it took. Mandy’s will rearranged the universe, and we’ve been best friends ever since. I’m grateful every day that we met. No one needs to know all that, though. All anyone at the wedding was supposed to know was that I was her date.

I texted Mandy already, so she knows I’m running late, which is something, I guess. Still makes me feel like an asshole. I pull into the long driveway my GPS directs me to and try to park way off to the side where I won’t be in anyone’s way. I can hear a party in full swing as I get out of my car, and I follow the sounds of a good time. Mandy spots me the second I round the corner of the house, and in short order, my arms are full of excited pixie.

“Trey! I’m so glad you’re here! I was worried that you’d get lost or something.” She talks non-stop as she throws herself at me. “My mom is so pretty, and everything came together awesome. I don’t know why I was worried about not having a date. My dad sat next to me anyway.”

Mandy had told me her dad would be there, which seemed like a recipe for disaster to me, but what do I know? Rich white people are weird.

Mandy tucks herself into my side under my arm and just keeps talking, only now she’s pointing with her free hand, seemingly unworried that people might notice her pointing at them. I’m very happy she’s not mad at me for being late, and I focus on trying to keep up with the stream of information she’s sharing.

“That’s my mom and Mitch over there, of course. Duh, the white dress is a dead giveaway. That tall guy in the black cowboy hat is my cousin Sam. There’s Hank over there. He’s like my adopted cousin, and his husband is here somewhere. He’s hard to miss. He’s like six-four, and the dress he’s wearing is gorgeous! Miss Leeanne is over there by the cake; she made all this food and the cake, too! She makes the best food. I love going to her restaurant when we come here.” Just as I’m getting ready to remind her to breathe, she says, “There’s my dad! Hi, Daddy!” and tugs me in the direction of an incredibly good-looking guy with salt-and-pepper hair and a cheerful smile on his face. He’s a couple of inches shorter than I am and a little slighter, but he looks fit and very, very good in the suit he’s wearing.

I’m halfway through doing a very thorough up and down of the newcomer when Mandy’s words sink in. Oh shit, Daddy.

I stick my hand out on autopilot and tell my glands to simmer down. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson, I’m Trey. Mandy’s very late date.”

He reaches out and takes my hand in both of his own. Not like he’s trying to crush my metacarpals, but as if he’s genuinely enjoying shaking my hand.

“Please, call me Ben,” he says. “Only old stuffy people call me Mr. Johnson. Oh shoot, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you were stuffy. I’ll just shut up now.” He still hasn’t let go of my hand. If this were any other circumstance, I would think the caressing thing he’s doing to my palm was flirting, but he seems too naive for that to be the case. And oh, yeah, Daddy.

“Alright, Ben,” I say as I gently extract my hand. “Mandy was just telling me that the wedding went great. I’m really sorry that I missed it.”

Ben turns a little red when I pull my hand away, and I keep talking to smooth over any embarrassment. I’m beginning to understand where Mandy gets her openness and lack of guile. It makes me instinctively like her father and want to protect his feelings. “I haven’t been to a wedding in a while, but I didn’t think it was the norm for exes to attend. It’s wonderful that you and Mandy’s mother are still such close friends.”

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