The clerk smiled and said, “Carrie and Ray, in so much as you have agreed to live together in matrimony, and have promised your love in front of these witnesses, by the power invested in me by the State of New York, I declare you to be husband and wife.”
I couldn’t stop crying! But then she said, “You may kiss the bride,” and Ray swept forward, his arms around me, and our lips touched, a perfect connection between us. I felt as light and as beautiful as I’d ever felt in my life. Everything in the room narrowed down to a tiny circle, a tiny protective circle, where the two of us were safe and warm and protected together.
They’re coming (Ray)
As Dylan placed the ring on Alex’s finger, I couldn’t help but glance past them to Carrie, who stood just opposite me in the Maid of Honor’s spot. Neither of us was wearing our rings, but she gave me a secret smile, and I knew what she was thinking. She’d been right, of course. Despite all my worries, I knew we’d made the right decision.
I couldn’t help but wish, however, that I’d been able to give her this kind of ceremony. Saint Paul’s Chapel at Columbia University is a hundred and five year old pile of northern Italian Renaissance brick and masonry, absolutely beautiful. The chapel was packed with hundreds of people: mostly Alex and Carrie’s family, but also Dylan’s mother and some of his other relatives, as well as dozens of their friends. Alex had six bridesmaids: her five sisters, and her roommate Kelly, with Carrie as the maid of honor. I stood beside Dylan, along with Corporal Reynolds and three of Dylan’s friends from Columbia.
Alex was radiant. She was a beautiful girl, large green eyes framed by long brown hair, and she had a smile that lit up the room. But in truth, my eyes kept returning to the woman who had made my life matter. Something about Carrie just stole the show from everyone around her.
The priest continued on. And on. And on. This was a Catholic ceremony. I’d never attended one before, and so it was an eye opener for me. But finally, the priest said the magic words. “You may kiss the bride.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Dylan had shown up at our room at ten o’clock last night. On our wedding night, the nit. Because he had needed help. Dylan’s memory had been spotty ever since his injury. When he showed up at our hotel room door, his face was drenched in sweat.
“I know this is a bad time,” he had said. “But, I need help.”
“Get in here, bonehead,” I said.
And then he explained it. Catholic ceremony or not, Alex and Dylan had written their own vows to each other. And Dylan was terrified that he was going to forget them when it counted the most.
When he explained the problem, Carrie’s eyes watered a little, and she caught my eye. Alex never missed an opportunity to tell the story of how he had proposed, and even though I’m not the most sentimental of guys, there was something just incredibly touching about it.
“Okay,” she said. “You can do this. Do you have it with you?”
He nodded and pulled out a couple of index cards from his back pocket. Carrie bit her lip, a smile on her face.
“Okay,” she said. “Come here.”
She stood facing him and said, “We’re going to practice this standing up, since you’ll be standing when you say it tomorrow. Pretend I’m Alex.”
He nodded, and then said, “I’m going to try it without the notes first.”
She nodded, and I left them to it, ducking outside on the balcony, where I found Crank smoking a cigarette and casually fingering his guitar. I still couldn’t get used to the reality of having Crank Wilson as a brother-in-law, but that didn’t stop me from bumming a cigarette from him.
Anyway, the practice worked. Dylan performed flawlessly, and now the priest told them to face the congregation and said: “Now I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Dylan Paris.”
Everyone in the pews started clapping, and that was my cue. I gave the order, “Post” and started marching down the center aisle, sword slapping at my side. From the pews, several other soldiers got out of their seats and followed me out. Including Sergeant Hicks. The others were veterans who attended Columbia, who Dylan had met through the veterans outreach program there.
Outside I arranged them on the steps, just past the portico, in two lines facing each other, then took my position. Sergeant Hicks was opposite me, immaculate in his dress blues, his blonde hair cropped to less than an eighth of an inch. I kept my eyes off of him. His betrayal was palpable. But the invitations had long since been mailed when we found out he’d pointed the finger at me, and for whatever reason, he and his wife made the trip to the wedding.
Unfortunately, we were also met outside by a phalanx of reporters, some of them here to catch photos of Crank and Julia, who were more or less constantly hounded by the paparazzi, and some of them here, unfortunately, to harass me, Hicks and Reynolds. A few of them shouted questions and shot photos, but they couldn’t get closer to us than the curb, thanks to the line of off-duty police officers keeping them at bay.
I heard the recessional music from inside, and a long black limousine was waiting at the curb. Alex and Dylan would be going down the aisle now, and then into hiding while the people in the pews came out. As the first people came out, I turned my head slightly to the right and called the words, “Attention!”
All eight of us came rigidly to the position of attention, in two rows of four facing each other, and the crowd flowed by us, gathering at the foot of the stairs to the chapel. And then Carrie came out, and leaned close to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was at the position of attention and couldn’t move. Helpless. But I winked at her. “They’re coming,” she said.
I let her get clear, and then called out, “Present ... arms!” just as Dylan and Alex appeared in the doorway.
Both rows of soldiers drew their sabers, and we held them in an arch. Alex’s eyes went round. This part of the ceremony was Dylan’s idea, and my implementation. She hadn’t known about it, which is a miracle, because I swear that girl had everything about this wedding planned down to the last detail.
They walked underneath the arch of swords, Dylan’s arm around her waist, and got in the limo and off they went. As I called out the order to sheath the sabers, Hicks gave me a dark, angry look.
It ain’t right (Carrie)
Moving the wedding guests from the chapel at Columbia all the way to The Surrey Hotel was a huge exercise in logistics. Alexandra enlisted Julia for this task, given that Julia’s day-to-day work involved moving dozens of people and tons of equipment all over the globe when Morbid Obesity was on tour. So after Alexandra and Dylan rode off in their limo, the rest of us lined up to board the eight tour buses lined up along Amsterdam Avenue. The wedding party boarded first. It was a little awkward; Ray and I sat in the first row of seats, and my mother and father sat facing us. Dad gave me a curt nod and was inexcusably rude to Ray, simply looking away. I felt Ray stiffen beside me, so I wrapped my right hand around his left arm and leaned in close to him.
My mother was still dabbing her eyes. She said, “I know I never approved of that boy Dylan, but I was wrong. That was a beautiful ceremony.”
I swallowed and said, “It was.” This was a side of Mom I wasn’t used to at all. My mom? Sentimental and teary-eyed at one of her daughter’s weddings? Hardly.
Tactful as always, she said, “Have you heard any news about the trial?”
I sucked in a breath, and Ray said, “My attorney is still holding out hope they won’t move forward with it, Mrs. Thompson.”
She nodded. “When will you know?”
He coughed and said, “The investigating officer will forward his recommendations next week. They’re waiting... ”
He frowned, his eyes darting to the two other soldiers in the back of the bus, and shook his head. “They’re having some trouble, because the Afghan authorities haven’t agreed to allowing our forensics guys to look for ballistic evidence.”
My mother looked confused, so I clarified. “Mom, Ray reported the crime but the soldier who actually did it made a counter accusation
against him. They want to exhume the body and see if they can match the bullets to one of the rifles.”
Mother patted her chest, and said, “Oh, dear.”
Father just kept a sour expression on his face, but it began to shift into anger at the next words my mother spoke. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this, Ray. I can see that ... Carrie is very happy with you.”
She dabbed at her eyes again, and I stared in frank shock, and felt my eyes water. Did she just say that? My mother?
Dad, though, leaned forward and said, “Perhaps we can find a more suitable topic for discussion. I find this entire subject distressful on the day my daughter got married.”
Julia, who was sitting directly behind Dad, leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. His mouth twitched at whatever it was, and he looked away from us.
The rest of the ride, twenty-seven very long blocks into midtown, went by in silence. Ray and I sat, holding hands. He looked out the window, and I occasionally looked over to my parents. My mother looked confused and divided, as if she didn’t know whether to support Dad or me. And my father never looked in our direction at all. And the longer that ride went on, the sadder I was. Because I wanted to tell my family that I was married, and have them be happy. I wasn’t sure about my mother’s reaction, but by all signs, my father wasn’t going to take it well at all. I could deal with that. It was my life to live, my choice to make, even if it was a mistake, which it wasn’t. But I’d be a liar if I said that my father’s support didn’t mean something to me. I’d always been closer to him than Mother. I’d always felt like he and I understood each other more.
So the fact that he wouldn’t even look at me? It just about broke my heart.
The moment the bus came to a stop, Ray and I got to our feet. I wanted off that bus right then, and I could tell he was ready to bite someone’s head off. The bus driver opened the doors, and our feet hit the pavement. Still hand in hand, we walked toward the entrance of the hotel, and only when we’d gone about twenty feet or so did we realize that a crush of photographers and reporters were racing toward us.
“Sergeant Sherman! Do you have any news about the investigation?”
“Ray! Tell us who really pulled the trigger?”
“Miss Thompson! How is your family reacting to you dating an accused war criminal?”
In a rush of blue taffeta and curly brown hair, Julia pushed her way in front of us. “That’s enough,” she shouted. “This is a family gathering, and we have no comments. Back off!” She was backed up by Crank, who flanked us on the other side. The reporters gave him room. It had been a decade, but he’d never lived down the reputation he’d gotten from punching a photographer in his twenties.
So, we made it inside, and the security guards at the entrance of the hotel kept the reporters outside.
Ray and I were the very first to walk into the reception, but within minutes the room started to fill, as the buses dumped off fifty guests at a time. The ballroom of the hotel was spread with seating for four hundred around the periphery, with a large space for a dance floor in the center. The tables were heavily decorated, but what caught my eye the moment I walked in stopped me in my tracks.
I pointed, and Ray said, “That rocks.” Above the head table where Alexandra and Dylan would sit was a huge screen, showing a slide show of their romance, from the day they met in Tel Aviv. A photo of them at sixteen, standing in the Mediterranean Sea together, arms around each other. The two of them, in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. A wonderful shot of Dylan with crazy long hair, Alexandra curled up against him. And then more photos. Alexandra with her roommate Kelly, and then one of Ray, Dylan and another soldier, standing together in their combat uniforms, a snowfield behind them. Ray had his arm casually thrown across Dylan’s shoulders, and the other soldier had a big, friendly grin.
Ray caught his breath when that photo went up. “That was Roberts,” he said. “Right before Christmas 2011.”
“I’m surprised Dylan included that one,” I said.
“Maybe he’s ... adjusting a little better.”
“I think so. He looks so much better than he did last fall,” I replied.
“You never get completely over it.”
I squeezed his hand and said quietly, “That’s okay, you know? It’s just one more thing I love about you.”
A quirky smile appeared on his face, and he pulled me into an embrace. “Be prepared then, wife, cause I’m about to plant a big kiss right on you.”
I felt myself flush and met his eyes. “You know, I’ve always been a sucker for a man in uniform?”
“Really?” he said, and then just barely nipped at my lower lip.
“Well ... no, I never thought about it before I met you. But if I wasn’t before, I am now. You look ... positively edible.”
“That warrants another kiss,” he said and leaned in, and this time, it was no nip.
We were still standing there, lips locked together, when I heard a familiar voice call, “Carrie!”
I pulled away, just slightly, feeling the heat in my cheeks and neck. And then I laughed out loud and said, “Oh, my God, Sean!” I grabbed Ray’s hand and pulled him across the room, and then I was grabbed in a huge hug.
After a moment, we separated, and I said, “Ray, this is Sean Wilson, Crank’s brother. We’ve been friends for a very long time. Sean, it’s so good to see you!”
Sean reached out and awkwardly took the hand of a ravishing looking redhead with pale blue eyes. She had a sprinkle of freckles across both cheeks and her nose, and looked absolutely adorable. Sean’s eyes focused on my forehead, just slightly above my eyes, as he said, “Carrie, may I present my wife Heidi? Heidi, this is Carrie, and ... you said your name was Ray?”
I reached out and shook Heidi’s hand, absolutely intrigued by the woman who ended up marrying Sean. She did the same eye thing he did, looking anywhere but directly at me. It didn’t put me off. I’d known Sean a lot of years, and I knew quite well that crowds were hard on people with Asperger’s. But then she said, her voice quite loud, “Sean, is this the woman you said you lost your virginity with?”
Several people in the crowd around us turned our way, eyes wide.
Ray coughed, loudly, and Sean said, “Heidi, you said you wouldn’t say that!”
I felt the flush in my skin run all the way up my neck and cheeks. “Well,” I said, “that’s, um … awkward.”
“It’s okay,” Sean said in a loud voice. “Heidi has no filter.”
“That’s not true,” Heidi said. “And she’s a grown woman, Sean, she’s got nothing to be ashamed of.”
I grinned, trying to force my way past the embarrassing flush on my cheeks. “That’s true,” I said.
“So, um, Sean,” Ray said, a twinkle in his eye. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot in common.”
Oh. My. God! He was making fun of me! I slapped Ray on the shoulder, and not softly.
He just smirked. “It’s really nice to meet both of you. Carrie’s told me a lot about you, Sean, though maybe not everything.”
I gave Ray a withering look. I’m sure he had a past too, though we’d never really discussed it. He was mine now and that was all that mattered. A waiter came by, and Ray grabbed us drinks. We continued chatting with Sean and Heidi, until the lights dimmed, then came back up and dimmed again three times.
“That’s our signal,” I said. I reached out and took Heidi’s hand. “Really great to meet you, Heidi. We’re on the east coast now. I’d love to come visit you two sometime. Or if you wanted to visit DC?”
She said, “I’d love to see Washington.”
Sean and I hugged, and just to spite Ray I gave him a big wet smooch on the cheek. Then Ray and I walked up to the head table.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?” he asked.
“You’re such an asshole,” I said, but I said it lightly.
“Oh, good. You had me worried there for a second.”
“It’s not like you don’t
have any past girlfriends.”
He chuckled. “Relax, Carrie. I actually thought it was kind of funny. I’m assuming we’re not going to have, like, a bunch of past lovers popping up at the reception, are we?”
I took his arm, wrapped my left hand around it, and then punched it with the right.
“Ow!” he said and then we both burst into laughter. He pulled me close and said, “Just for the record. The thought of anyone else touching you, even in the past tense, makes me want to completely fucking freak. But it’s the past, I get it.”
And then he kissed me again, and it was okay.
So, we all sat down for the reception. Dylan and Alexandra sat in the center of a long table. I sat between Dylan and my father, which was difficult. On the other side, Ray was in between Alexandra and my mother. As the meal was being served, I leaned close to my father and said, “I’m not going to say anything else about it after this, so there’s no need to defend yourself. But your behavior toward Ray was inexcusable. I doubt you’ll do it now, but one of these days, I expect an apology from you.”
And then I turned away from him. Let him deal with Julia, who was on his other side. I turned to Dylan and said, “I just want you to know, you guys pulled off the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe except for one,” he replied, teasing.
“Right,” I said with a wink. “But that one’s a secret for now,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to take away from Alexandra’s day.”
He just smiled. A little while later, it was time for the toasts. Ray gave the first one, then me, then our parents. Dinner was finished, and the toasts were continuing, when Julia stood up and called, “It’s time for the first dance! Dylan and Alexandra, the dance floor is yours!”
The partiers were all pretty drunk at this point, so there was a lot of clapping, but Alexandra stood and held a hand in the air. “Wait!” she called. Then she grabbed the microphone.
“I need to propose a toast first,” she said. I leaned in my seat, watching her. She was radiant in that dress, and she looked as happy as I’ve ever seen her. As she started to speak, she rested a hand on Dylan’s shoulder, and my eyes darted to Ray. He met my eyes and gave me a smile.
The Last Hour Page 35
