Page 10 of The Sixth Wedding
Coop pours glasses of some obscure Riesling that he was tickled to find (Fray has water) and they all go out to the porch that faces the ocean.
Cooper raises his glass. “To Mallory,” he says.
Jake has trouble swallowing. It’s a clear evening, warm and summery. Jake watches the waves curl and crash and he feels that Mallory is here somewhere, but where? In the golden sand, in the soft quality of the light? Jake is sure she would want them to be swimming—they’re notthatold, after all, and it’s notthatcold. Jake sets his glass down, heads inside to change into his suit, and then goes charging past everyone down the slope of the beach and into the water.
Cooper joins Jake a few minutes later and the two men bob in the waves as they gaze up at Fray and Leland, who are deep in conversation on the porch.
“I just remembered that Mallory told me those two used to have a thing,” Jake says. “‘A thing that refused to die,’ she called it.”
“That was back in high school,” Coop says. “It’s dead, believe me. Long dead.”
“Thanks for inviting me here, man,” Jake says. “I know you didn’t like what your sister and I had going on…”
“You loved her,” Coop says. “That’s all that matters to me. I’m the last person who gets to comment on what kind of relationship is right and what kind is wrong.”
“The minute I realized I’d fallen in love with her, I was right here,” Jake says. “It was maybe year three or four, it was in the morning, and I was swimming when your sister got home from her run. She came out to the porch to stretch and she didn’t see me, so I could appreciate her without her knowing it. And I remember thinking,I love that girl.”
“She had a light inside her,” Coop says. “A funny, innocent light. A good person light.”
“I should have left Ursula and married her,” Jake says. “There were dozens of times I wanted to do it, but I was afraid. I was afraid of life without Ursula, I was afraid your sister would turn me down, and I think we were both afraid that once we were officially together, our love would seem regular, and like regular love, it would die.”
“Remember that one year Mal and I met you at PJ’s at Christmastime and the two of you were dancing by the jukebox? I should have figured out what was going on with you two back then.”
“You should’ve,” Jake says. “But you were too busy chatting up Stacey.”
Coop splashes him. “I’ve got first shower.”
Right before dinner, Jake gets an idea. He searches through the cabinets until he finds a mason jar and then he goes out the back door and snips the last remaining hydrangea blossom off the bush and puts it on the harvest table as a centerpiece.
Now it feels like Mallory is there.
They all sit at the narrow table, which is lit only by votive candles. Jake recalls the year Mallory decided to use tapers and one fell while Jake and Mallory were in the bedroom fooling around and the cottage nearly burned down, and one of the firemen who showed up was Mallory’s ex-boyfriend, JD.
After he finishes his second glass of wine, he considers telling this story, but it feels too precious to share.
Leland says, “Let’s go around the table and say which of Coop’s wives was our favorite. My favorite was Tish.”
Cooper laughs. He really is a good sport, Jake thinks. “Tish was my least favorite,” Coop says. “She was in love with someone else when she married me—her ‘family friend,’ Fred from San Francisco. They’ve been happily married for over twenty years and have a business flipping houses in Nob Hill. Their daughter goes to Stanford.”
“My favorite was Valentina,” Fray says. “She was a sweet woman.”
“Sweet,” Coop says. “But using me to escape an arranged marriage.”
“Did she go back to Ecuador?” Jake asks.
“Oh, yes,” Cooper says. “I’m not sure if she ended up with Pablo. That was the guy her parents wanted her to marry. I haven’t heard from her in nearly twenty-five years.” He stabs a piece of steak with his fork. “It seems surreal that I could have stood at the altar at Roland Park Presbyterian and taken alifelong vowto stay with someone and then that person and I split a few months later and I never see or hear from her again.”
Leland digs into her twice-baked potato. “I hate to say this but I can’t even remember who wife number four was. Did I meet her?”
“Tamela,” Coop says. “Poli sci professor at Georgetown. She had three teenagers that took up a lot of her time and energy. One was gender transitioning. Her first husband was killed in a highway crash, the kids were devastated, and they resented me. We eloped in Antigua. That was romantic, but then it was back to reality, and reality was challenging.”
“How long did that one last?” Jake asks. He can’t remember much about Tamela either. Hedoesremember Coop eloping, because Ursula had been relieved to be spared another wedding, and Jake had felt robbed of a chance to see Mallory.
“Two and a half years,” Cooper says. “The irony is that I’m still in touch with the kids. They love me now.”
“Amy was nice,” Jake says. He met Amy at a Johns Hopkins alumni event in DC. She had kind brown eyes and a way of tilting her head to let you know she was really listening to you.
“That was the problem,” Coop says. “Amy was nice, sweet, accommodating, eager to please. There was no mystery, no intrigue, no edge.”
