Page 77 of Everything We Thought Was True
A half hour later, the officiant announced that the ceremony would begin. “All of Me,” by John Legend—my dad and Oliver’s song—played while they walked over to join the officiant at the wedding arch. She instructed us to make a semicircle around my dad and Oliver. I looked at the intimate group of people here to celebrate with them. Anthony, Donna, Christopher, and Ella were present, of course. Henry had come without a date, claiming he wanted to fully focus on my dad’s big day and not have to babysit a plus-one who didn’t know anyone else. My dad and Oliver’s close friends in the LA area, some straight, some gay, were all happy to be included, as well as a few of my father’s work colleagues who had become like family to him over the years. What a far cry from years before when we’d had to hide who he was and worried about him getting fired.
Dad and Oliver held hands, stared into each other’s eyes as the officiant spoke about the two of them, her words made more meaningful by the insider info I had provided. When she mentioned the hobbies my dad and Oliver enjoyed, some of their favorite songs, and a few funny anecdotes, Kevin squeezed my hand and smiled at me. I squeezed back, glancing at him sideways and trying not to get too emotional.
No such luck. A tear slipped down my cheek, and as I wiped it away, I noticed others also shedding happy tears. What a triumphant day—a chance for my dad to declarehis love for Oliver publicly, a man who I felt was a good match for him after so many failed relationships. I thought of how he and my mom had failed at marriage, but it hadn’t exactly been a failed relationship.
We’d reached the ring-exchange part of the ceremony. I loved the rings they chose—a modern two-tone band with silver edging and an inlay of black in the center. My dad took Oliver’s left hand, repeating after the officiant, “With this ring I pledge my love to you,” with a quiver in his voice.
Oliver reached over with his right hand and rubbed my dad’s shoulder. My dad nodded, signaling that he could hold it together. He placed the ring on Oliver’s finger and then brought Oliver’s hand up to his lips and kissed it.
“Not yet, Frank. No kissing until I say so,” the officiant said.
We all laughed, and my dad looked like a kid who’d been able to sneak a cookie from the jar before dinner.
“Now we’ll perform the ribbon ceremony,” the officiant announced. “Frank and Oliver will pass around a ribbon, and each person will hold it and share a wish for the grooms and then pass the ribbon on to the next person. That way, all the friends and family members here will have a hand in shaping who the grooms will become as a married couple.”
I’d never seen this tradition. I leaned in closer, curious to hear what kind of sentiment each person would share. They ranged from humorous—“I wish for you a private chef because neither of you is a good cook!”—to heartfelt, “May your love shine as brightly as the sun.”
My dad’s face grew more expressive and emotional with each passing of the ribbon. He reminded me of a peacock, feathers splayed in their glory. He seemed to expand, buoyed by the words of love and support directed at him and Oliver.
When the ribbon reached me, I said, “I hope you always have laughter to accompany you and love to guide you. And that you continue to choose each other every day.”
My dad wiped a tear and blew me a kiss. I caught it and placed it in my heart.
The ribbon arrived at the end of the circle of guests. The officiant looked around expectantly and then turned to my dad and Oliver. “I now present to you the married couple, Frank and Oliver.” We all started clapping. The officiant’s voice broke through the applause. “And now you may kiss your groom!” My dad and Oliver kissed and embraced, holding each other for a long time, while we clapped and cheered—the sounds of our revelry blending with the crash of the ocean waves to create a symphony of celebration.
After the ceremony, the photographer gathered us for a group photo. At first, everyone acted as expected, grinning at the camera. But then Oliver and my dad struck various poses, and others started doing the same. It became a goofy ham-it-up fest, with people sticking out their tongues and making jazz hands.
The staff then directed the group to the reception on the patio. My dad and Oliver stayed behind so the photographer could take photos of just the two of them. I grabbed my phone from my purse and snapped a picture of them silhouetted against the sea, kissing.
The dinner reception had a romantic setting with twinkling lights, a bubbling fountain, grapevines on a pergola, and terra-cotta pots framing the patio. Once my dad and Oliver joined us, Anthony kicked off the toasts to the happy couple. I’d asked him to go first, thinking it was appropriate, given that he was the oldest. Plus, I knew it would buy me some time and allay my nerves.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Frank’s son, Anthony, although I think you all know that,” he said, looking around at the expectant faces. “I’m not one to make long, fancy speeches, so I’ll keep this brief. We’re here to celebrate my father and Oliver’s special day, one I know my dad has fought for a long time. It’s been a journey for him to get here, and I’m glad he’s arrived. And with someone as great as Oliver.” Anthony raised his glass and looked pointedly at my dad and Oliver. “So let’s raise our glasses to Frank and Oliver and toast their arrival at their destination. Cheers.”
Guests repeated “Cheers” throughout the room and took sips of prosecco. My dad and Oliver beamed as Anthony walked over and hugged them.
And then it was my turn.Yikes.I’d planned to keep my toast short, also, thinking about what I was going to say that morning as I was getting dressed.
I stood up and began. “Thank you for coming to help us celebrate my dad and Oliver’s big day. I’m Lena—Frank’s daughter, unofficial wedding planner, and sort of best man.” That got a few laughs. I smiled. “I know it means the world to them you’re here. They wanted to be surrounded by people who love and support them, and that means all of you. Please join me in toasting the grooms. Love is love,” I said, ending with the popular refrain of same-sex-marriage proponents. I raised my glass and took a hearty sip of prosecco.
I sat down, glad to have that behind me. Then I heard someone else tapping a glass. Henry stood.
Well, well. Is he going to give a toast?As I was ruminating about whether that was appropriate, he began talking.No stopping him now.
“Hey, folks. I’m Henry. You could say I’m a best man too.” He snickered. “Let’s face it. A man can never have too many best men! I’m Frank’s longtime friend—someone who’s been on this journey with him since way back when. I can’t tell you how much joy it gives me to see Frank marry Oliver, his partner, lover, andfriend.” My dad and Oliver wore big smiles and held hands. “I wouldn’t have missed this day for anything. Frank, here’s to you, buddy. I love ya. Cheers!”
Everyone raised their glasses one last time and drank to the newlyweds.
The evening flew by with dinner and dancing. After the servers cleared the main course, Ella sat down next to me. “They’re so cute, aren’t they?” she cooed, eyes glowing.
I loved seeing how much it thrilled my niece to be a part of this celebration. I looked around, trying to locate the happy couple, and spotted them standing hand in hand, talking to friends at a nearby table.
“Yup, they really are,” I agreed, laughing to myself that a fifteen-year-old was using the termcuteto describe a couple decades older than she was.
“I can’t wait for the wedding cake. It looks so good. Did you see it?” she asked.
I looked over at the corner of the patio where the wedding cake sat, looking resplendent with fresh flowers on top. “Yes, I even tasted it.”
Her eyes widened. “You snuck a piece?”
