Chapter 15

BEFORE I knew it, the day of the wedding had rolled around. I had assured Ben and Alison that I would be attending with Jay, and my brothers had sent me texts on my phone, telling me I was doing the right thing.

It didn’t feel like the right thing.

It would be the first time I would face my parents and it could go horribly wrong. I tried to pin Mum down to an evening before the wedding, where she could pop over and meet Jay, so at least she would be prepared and forewarned, but Mum was busy all week with last minute stuff and couldn’t make it.

Although reluctant to attend the buck’s night, Jay was all revved up for the wedding. Our declaration of love for each other had somehow changed his mind, and he was ready to confront the world at my side, instead of hiding and waiting for a better time.

Of course, my idea of getting ready for a wedding was completely different from Jay’s. I was planning to give myself an hour to shower, shave, dress, and put a comb through my hair, before leaving for the nearby park where the lucky couple would make their vows. Jay was mortified at the thought.

I sighed at the changes I would now have to weather in order to love and cherish Jay. Things like being picked up at 9:00 a.m. Saturday morning by Daisy and her plastic sunflower aerial, and being whisked over to Jay’s house for a morning of pampering before the wedding. What the hell was pampering? It sounded like something you did to a poodle.

As I waited for Daisy to appear, I smiled at the bright blue sky that promised perfect weather for my brother’s wedding. Right on time, she came trundling down the road, and I waved. Jay pulled up, and I opened the door.

“Are you looking for some fun, babe?” I teased, rotating my hips around in a circle in a parody of being sexy.

“Always. Hop in.” Jay’s masculine voice with the hint of fem hit me in the solar plexus.

“What do you have in mind, sugar?”

Jay laughed and glanced in the rearview mirror. “If you hurry up and get in before this car rams my poor Daisy, I will promise to suck your eyeballs through your dick.”

Bam! Just like that I was hard. “Shit, Jay,” I complained as I threw my bag and suit cover in the back seat. “Don’t say things like that in public. Total embarrassment how easily you turn me on!”

The bastard just laughed at me.

At his house, he subjected me to a mixture of pleasure and torture—and not the good kind of torture. Not the please, please, please do that again so I can come in your mouth type of torture. And not the oh, yes, lick me there please kind of pleasure. No sirree! Jay’s torture involved tweezers and plucking and sitting very still so I didn’t crack the body clay he’d just dumped on my chest. This was followed by—to my surprise—pleasure in foot spas, massages, smelly creams, and hair gel. He even gave me a haircut!

We spent the whole morning together, laughing, while Jay tried all his potions and lotions on me. I made him come outside for a while with me and we cleaned and polished Daisy to the best of our ability. After lunch Jay buffed and cleaned my fingernails, although I drew the line at any sort of polish on them. But I got in the groove and managed to do a pretty good job on his toenails, if I do say so myself.

The bastard just laughed at me.

Finally it was time to get dressed. I brought out my charcoal suit—worn a total of three times in its four-year history—and every time was a wedding. I’d splashed out on a brand new shirt, and Jay wholeheartedly loved it. It was gray with black-and-white squiggly lines over it, worn without a tie since the wedding was a casual garden event.

Jay went with a black suit and tie, and combined it with a mesmerizing sea green shirt that rippled and changed color with the angle of light. He went once again with the sparkly green eyeliner and even used eye shadow. I pushed his giant panda to the floor and sat down on the white wicker chair in his dressing room to watch him apply his makeup and do his hair.

Man, it was arousing!

The bastard just laughed at me.

I’d sent Ben a couple of texts throughout the morning—usual pre-wedding stuff like, It’s not too late. You can still pull out if you want. And, I can pay for a flight to Timbuktu for you if you need it. Then, Don’t do it, bro! Women destroy your life. Run for the hills!

The groomsmen were getting ready at Mum and Dad’s house, as Alison and the girls had taken over Ben’s abode, so I checked in with Cameron. Does Dad know I am bringing Jay to the wedding? I don’t want any heart attacks before the vows are said.

I chewed my newly manicured nails (and received a stinging slap for it!) while I waited for Cam’s reply. When it finally arrived, I didn’t know if it was good news or bad news.

M&D both know. Mum is excited to meet Jay. Dad has promised to be on his best behavior.

There was nothing more I could do, so twenty minutes before the appointed hour for the bride to arrive, Jay reverse-parked Daisy in a bay near the exit of the carpark (for a quick getaway—just in case!) and together we walked the fifty meters or so through the park to where the marriage celebrant waited in front of two-dozen white chairs and an assortment of flowers in large, decorative pots.

The park was beautifully situated, high on a hill overlooking Yangebup Lake. I always laughed when people called it a lake because in my mind it is actually a swamp—brown water, dead trees, and snakes equals swamp, doesn’t it? But the brown water didn’t look bad from this distance, and a flock of white pelicans had actually decided to take a nap in the middle, so it was quite picturesque. On the other side of the park, the tall spire of the local Catholic church gave elegance to the proceedings, and otherwise, the green grass was surrounded by Australian native bush. I noted that the winter rains had allowed the native paper daisies to bloom, and the beautiful carpet of pink-and-white flowers they made was the crowning glory of the site.

I deliberately didn’t hold Jay’s hand as we crossed the park. He smiled at me in his understanding way. There were times and places for everything. Today was about making a statement, but not causing waves. If Aunt Rose didn’t twig to what we were to each other, then she could stay nicely in her bubble—it wasn’t necessary to ram it down her throat. Thank goodness Dale and Candice were already there, or else I might’ve panicked. I made a beeline for them.

“Hi, guys!” I said chirpily. “You look beautiful, Candice.” I hadn’t forgotten my manners, and besides, she really did. I may be gay, but I wasn’t blind. I kissed her gently on the cheek and stuck out my hand for Dale. He shook it and turned to Jay.

“Hi, Jay. Nice to see you again. Come and meet my wife, Candice. Candice, this is Jay.” Candice smiled broadly and latched on to his hand.

“Jay! How nice to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you from Liam. I’ve just been dying to get to know you.”

I was embarrassed but pleased with her response. “Candy! You’ve known about him for two whole weeks.”

She shook her head at me and laughed. “No. You think you’re so coy, Liam. I’ve actually known about him for about two months. Remember the night you spoke longingly about a guy with bleached hair, pink shirts, and makeup. Well, that couldn’t possibly be anyone else apart from this handsome man in front of me.”

I think I turned bright red because they all laughed at my discomfiture. Jay saved me, however, by asking to have a peek at the sleeping baby in the pram, and like all proud parents, Candice’s attention was diverted.

We wandered over to the gathering crowd and I greeted the aunts, uncles, and cousins I knew, then turned and introduced Jay as simply, “This is my friend, Jay.” It went over smoothly.

John arrived with—surprise!—Jackie, who looked rather normal—shock and horror!—in a simple yellow frock. It helped me relax a little, knowing that Jay had at least someone who would extremely, verbally stand up for him should all shit hit the fan. I then left Jay with Candice while Dale and I helped Grandma and Grandad Turner find a seat at the front and convinced Aunty Lil that yes, she should have a seat, and that at eighty-eight she had a right to kick some young thing off a chair.

Suddenly I looked up and there was Dad.

We stared at each other for what seemed to be a heck of a lot longer than the three seconds it actually was. It was in those three seconds that I remembered something that I should’ve remembered a lot earlier. Dad loved me. He’d loved me through anger, pain, and disappointment in the past, why did I suddenly think that he wouldn’t love me now?

It was Dad who was the first person ever to hold me—beaming proudly at the camera as the nurse snapped a picture to commemorate the moment for all time. It was Dad who had been angry at me when he found out who’d thrown the cricket ball through the kitchen window—but he still loved me. He still loved me even when he’d had to attend the school after I’d been caught cheating on my Year 8 geography test. He still loved me, and even helped me, when Mum had found out I’d stolen those baseball cards from the shop when I was ten, and I’d had to do the dishes by myself for a whole month as punishment.

I’d disappointed him in life, too. He was disappointed that I chose Accounting at university, not Engineering like him. But he still loved me and had forgiven me. I’d disappointed him over and over again by not being able to have enough courage to drive a car. And he’d forgiven me.

I’d deliberately chosen to go for another football team, rather than his beloved Eagles, and he’d…. Well, okay. Maybe he’d never forgiven me on that one but there has to be a line drawn somewhere, and backing a different football team was just going too far.

But deciding to be gay, even when I didn’t really have a choice in the matter? That was way before that line. Maybe it was something that Dad couldn’t quite stand up and boast to his mates about at the pub, but it wasn’t something that was going to stop him from loving or caring about me.

“Dad….” I started forward to him, and he met me in the middle and wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a tight embrace.

“Liam.” It was all he said. But I understood. Sometimes there just weren’t enough words in the English language. He thumped me twice on the back and pulled away. “Come now, don’t go putting creases in my bloody shirt before the photos can be taken. Your mother has been on my case all afternoon about stains, and creases, and whatnot.”

I smoothed his shirt down, and patted him teasingly on the small gut he was developing. “Looking good, Dad. Pity about the belly.”

Dad responded as usual. “Oi! I’ll have you know that I have been working very diligently on this beer gut for thirty years now. I have constantly lifted pints and middies nearly every weekend to get this here. No bad words about it.”

I smiled and turned to Mum. “Hey, Mum. Watch out, there! You are not supposed to be outshining the bride.”

“Oh, go on with you!” Mum blushed and tittered, trying to casually look around but not managing it. “Where is this young man of yours?”

I took her arm and turned her around. “Over there, Mum. Holding your grandson.”

“Oh.” Mum practically gushed and melted on sight. Someone who would goo and gah at her beloved grandchild was a winner. We made our way over.

“Jay? These are my parents, William and Connie Turner. Mum, Dad, this is Jamie Bell.”

Maybe it was fate. Who knows? But with his arms wrapped around the baby, Jay wasn’t able to shake hands. So he simply looked up and smiled, giving a little wiggle of his fingers from where they cradled the baby. “Hello. Pleased to meet you both.”

And that was it. Dad didn’t have to decide whether he could shake hands with the poofter boyfriend of his fourth son, and I wasn’t humiliated because my father wouldn’t touch the man I loved. Mum hardly cared about the makeup as she was too busy gushing at the sight of a man with her darling grandbaby, and Dad didn’t have to do anything other than pretend to smile in Jay’s direction.

And, as there were fifty people waiting to greet them, neither of them got a chance to say something stupid before they had gotten over their shock. Friends and relatives called them away, and before long the groomsmen had arrived, bringing the slightly nervous white-faced groom. The clocked ticked down to the appointed hour of 3:00 p.m., and we all gathered, shooting expectant looks to the road, waiting for the bride.

Finally, she arrived in a bright-white stretch limousine, its hood decked out in the required white bridal ribbons. We took our places in front of the celebrant, on the right side of the length of red carpet, and stood quietly. Jay was at my side, and with the crowd’s tight confines around us, I groped for his hand, and squeezed it tightly. He turned to me, smiling his understanding, and giving me little squeezes back.

Ben breathed deeply and watched exultantly as his bride made her way down to him, clutching the arm of her father and following the perfectly turned out pink bridesmaids. And fifteen minutes later they were joined in holy matrimony. The day was perfect. The bride was stunning. The ceremony was idyllic.

We stepped forward to offer our congratulations and Alison met Jay for the first time. She gave him a huge hug, and whispered that she was happy that he was making me happy. He blushed adorably and told her she was the most gorgeous bride he had ever seen. I was thrilled.

Immediately after the ceremony, we took the required photos overlooking the lake, and Jay took his place proudly at my side in each of the “family” shots.

Alison insisted on photos of each of the couples in attendance, so Jay and I, along with my brothers and their wives, gathered around the photographer, smiling and laughing with each other as we waited for our turn. The photographer was infinitely talented and managed to capture everyone in unique and beautiful poses: Mum and Dad stood stiffly in their new clothes; Dale and Candice stood together holding their son with linked hands; Anita was caught giving Cameron a loving kiss on his cheek; and John and Jackie smiled together at the camera with their heads bent toward each other. Finally it was our turn. I tried to refuse, but Alison insisted, and Jay pulled me over to the posing spot.

And there we were immortalized on film, and it turned out to be my favorite photo of all time—blown up and proudly hung in the living room of our apartment for everyone to see. Jay had pulled me into position, and wrapped his arm around my waist. When the man I loved was so close to me, what else could I do but put my arm around his shoulders in response? Then Jay had looked up at me and said, “I love you, Liam.”

I had looked down at him and said, “I love you, too.”

He’d smiled at me with devotion and I had responded with a look of complete adoration. And the photographer had snapped the picture, capturing that instant—two men gazing at each other, utterly in love. Jay loving me, and me… loving Jay.