Love Lies

72. Fern

I glide up the aisle and it is all so breathtakingly beautiful. The pews are packed with faces I recognize and even one or two people I know. As I get closer to the altar I smile and nod to neighbours, friends and family. My family have turned up, after all. I wonder whether they have accepted and approve of my decision to marry Scott or have just decided to support me because that’s what family do – and besides, they all like a good party. I have no time to decide, as in a few short steps I’m face to face with Scott.

He looks wonderful. He’s wearing a tailor-made Versace suit; it’s a deep aubergine colour with a lime green lining. I’m not sure whether I knew this and had forgotten or whether I’ve ever shown much interest in what Scott was going to wear today. This man, this beautiful and complicated man, is about to become my husband and I’m so lucky. I really am. Ask Amanda Amberd.

Saadi stands up to do a reading. I’m surprised – it was supposed to be my sister, Fiona, who was going to do the first reading; she must have stage fright. I know she’s here. She’s sitting a few rows back in a pew to the left; I heard her crying when I walked down the aisle. Scott chose the reading and it’s been kept a secret from me. I did insist that it wasn’t Corinthians chapter 13. It’s not that I have anything against that reading, it’s just that I’ve heard it one hundred times and know it so well I no Why Marriage?

She coughs and looks my way. ‘Why Marriage, author unknown. Why Marriage? Because to the depths of me, I long to love one person, with all my heart, my soul, my mind, my body.’ Saadi glances at her notes; she clearly hasn’t been given much notice about doing the reading – I bet she’s irritated. She’s a professional; I know she’d have wanted to read this fluently and without prompts. She coughs and then carries on.

‘Why Marriage? Because I need a forever friend to trust with the intimacies of me, who won’t hold them against me, who loves me when I’m unlikeable.’ The words are shockingly poignant. I prick up my ears. Scott chose this reading. Scott wants this from me. He’s talking to me. ‘Who sees the small child in me, and who looks for the divine potential of me.’

I do, I do. I glance at Scott and we lock eyes. His green, sparkling, soul-slicing eyes are drilling into mine. I care for him, so much.

‘Because marriage means opportunity to grow in love, in friendship. Because marriage is a discipline to be added to a list of achievements.’

Even if he’d written these words himself they could not have been more appropriate and moving. The aching disappointment that he did not write the Wedding Album songs for me is some way salved. He does care. So much.

‘I promise myself to take full responsibility for my spiritual, .’ That part is a bit new age-y for my tastes, but it’s still good. ‘Why Marriage? Because I take half of the responsibility for my marriage. Together we create our marriage because with this understanding the possibilities are limitless.’

Saadi sighs with relief at getting through the speech and then quickly returns to her seat. I play the words over and over in my head. ‘I take half of the responsibility for my marriage. Together we create our marriage.’

Two of the little bridesmaids start to whisper and giggle. I don’t know who the culprits are – maybe my nieces. Scott flashes an indulgent grin in their direction; even so, Saadi’s third assistant leaps up and whisks them out of the service. I bet she’s gutted to miss out on the ceremony.

The vicar is talking about how sure he is that Scott and I will have a marvellous day today, supported by all our guests. A prayer is said. A hymn sung. I float above all this. Breathing in the heavy scent of lilies and lavender, catching the odd, muffled ‘oh’ or ‘ah’ from the congregation, feeling the weight of my bouquet and my friends’ concerned glances.

I take half of the responsibility for my marriage.

The vicar calmly intones on and on. He talks about the peace Scott and I have found in one another, but it doesn’t resonate. Scott is offering me many things – peace isn’t one of them. The vicar talks about hope and about life’s quests – that makes more sense. I’m going to need buckets full of hope, and quest is another word for hunt, expedition or mission, isn’t it? He goes on and on and on until –

‘If any one of these people here present today knows of any reason why these two may not be joined in lawful matrimony, may they speak now or forever hold their peace.’

And I stop breathing.

I wait. I wait and I wait. I wait for my brain to make the connection as to exactly what it is I am waiting for. What? Am I waiting for the nail-biting moment to pass so that we can carry on and seal the deal? Or, truly, am I waiting for an interruption? Suddenly my head is full of sizzling messages that somehow won’t compute; instead they scream mindlessly, causing greater confusion in my spaghetti-like mind.

I know.

I know what I want but I can hardly bear to acknowledge it – to feel it, even. I take half the responsibility for my marriage.

I know. I want my mum to stand up and tell them she never saw me living the kind of life where you can’t find the loo door and you have to clap your hands to turn on the taps.

I know. I want Ben to stand up and tell them he loves Scott and that maybe Scott’s gay and the wedding shouldn’t go ahead. I look for Ben. He’s nowhere to be seen. Where are you, Ben? I need you.

I know. Above all, what I want, what I really, dearly want is for Adam to stand up and tell them – tell me – that he loves me and that the wedding can’t possibly go ahead. Is Adam even here? I couldn’t see him among the bobbing heads as I walked down the aisle. I turn a fraction and try to sneak a glance at the congregation out of the corner

No one stands up for me. I look around and everybody looks beautiful. Everybody looks buffed and gleaming, and preened and pampered, if not a little uncomfortable.

Mark coughs; he wants the vicar to carry on but the vicar’s noticed I’m crying and we’re not talking a quiet little tear sailing gently down my cheek. An elegant single tear is expected from a bride, almost de rigueur for a Hollywood bride – quite fetching – but I’m sobbing. I’m sobbing hard and heavy tears are starting somewhere deep in my gut and exploding out over the vicar and through the congregation. I’m sobbing because this isn’t my dream. I am not living the dream. At least not the one

I turn to Scott. And what does Scott want? Scott longs to love one person, with all his heart, his soul, his mind, his body. That’s what was said in the reading. He wants this despite the odds, despite his pleas that he can’t control himself, that he has intimacy issues and that infidelity is part of his makeup. Secretly, he wants one person. I’m not that person. Ben thinks he might be.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mutter. I do love him even when he’s unlikeable, I do see the small child in him, just like the reading asked. But the love I feel is all about friendship. And while he’s my only offer on the table and he’s a very good offer, he’s not the offer I want. He’s not the one. I have to take responsibility in and out of a marriage. I manage to squeak again, ‘Sorry.’

Then I turn and run. I do the whole Cinderella thing, except I don’t even leave a shoe. I dash from that church and I just keep running.