The Night Before the Wedding

His voice broke. I hugged him tightly to me.

"Aww, don't..." Ben resisted, trying to pull away, then gave up and turned to me, wetting my shoulder as he cried. I stroked his hair and his heaving back, making ineffectual noises of sympathy.

The young man who had cruised me with such confidence in the bar was gone. I held a hurt little boy in my arms, the same way I had held my son many years ago when he fell off his bike and skinned his knee. If only Ben's problems could be fixed so easily.

After a while his weeping began to subside. I reached for a Kleenex from the box at the side of the bed. He took it, wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

"Guess I better go," he said, looking sideways at me and trying to smile. "Sort of spoiled the mood there, didn't I?"

I shook my head. "Please stay."

"You sure?"

"I want you to." I deeply regretted what I'd done. Ben was right--it was too late to stop the wedding. What had been gained by my forcing him to face his self-deception? Nothing.

Ben's sobs had stopped. He wiped the last tears from his eyes. "God, I'm tired."

I tried to smile. "Better get some rest. You have a big day coming up."

I flipped the light off, covered us and cuddled him one last time. After a few moments Ben kissed me and turned away to sleep.

"Good night, Lloyd."

"Good night." A few minutes later I heard his even breathing. I stayed wide awake, staring into the dark. Eventually I must have gone to sleep, for the next thing I knew, my eyes were opening to the gray light of dawn filtering into the small room. My mouth tasted stale and I could already feel a whopping hangover. I reached out to my side.

Ben was gone.

A wave of sadness washed over me. He hadn't even said goodbye.

The Presbyterian church where the wedding was to be held was some distance from the center of town. My heart was heavy as I drove down Whitney Avenue in the bright sunshine of a beautiful Saturday morning.

I could take the easy way out, and play my assigned part as one of the happy relatives. Ben and Kris were adults. They were capable of living their lives and dealing with their problems without my interference.

Try as I might, though, I couldn't erase the memory of Ben crying in my arms. He was incapable of saving himself. I could--if I had the courage.

The church loomed into view, a huge modern construction that looked for all the world like an oversize ski lodge. I swung into the parking lot behind it, got out, and walked into the building.

"Lloyd! Glad you made it. How was your trip?"

It was Art, with his wife Barbara. He embraced me. "So good to see you here."

"I have you to thank for that," I said into his ear. "Too bad you couldn't swing the rehearsal dinner."

He released me but kept hold of my arms, looking into my face. "I'm sorry. I did my best."

"I know. She had to find some way to exclude me, didn't she?"

Art shook his head. "Let's put all that aside for Kris's sake, okay? I saw her this morning. She looked absolutely radiant."

"There's nothing as sweet as a young woman in love, is there?" Barbara said.

I forced a smile. "Where's Katherine?"

"Downstairs somewhere, no doubt telling the wedding planner exactly what to do," Art said. "Lloyd, be nice to her, will you? This is her day, after all."

"Really? I thought it was Kris's day."

Art wasn't going to get into it with me. "She's a beautiful bride. See you afterward. We'll talk." He and Barbara moved away up the aisle of the sanctuary.

I saw a flight of stairs leading down at the back of the foyer and took them. I'd decided to try and talk to Katherine. It didn't take long for me to locate her. Her voice carried from some distance away, loud and clear.

"I thought I told you not to put the corsages on the pews until an hour before the ceremony. Now they're wilted. They look terrible."

I rounded a corner and there Katherine stood, impeccably dressed and coifed, upbraiding another woman whom I took to be the unfortunate wedding planner.

She turned. Her expression did not change. "Lloyd. You made it."

Don't faint from ecstasy, I wanted to say, but restrained myself. If I had any chance of convincing her I had to keep my cool.

"Hello, Kath. Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you."

"Lloyd, this is really not a good time."

"Kath, it's important. It's about Ben."

"Ben?" Her eyebrows rose. "What about him?"

"He--" I was losing my nerve. "It's not right. He shouldn't marry Kris."

"Really." Katherine's voice was flat, filled with a deadly calm. "And what do you know about Ben that makes you say such a thing?"

I opened my mouth to speak, then stopped. Was I going to explain to my sister exactly what had transpired between her daughter's fiancŽ and me last night? Suppose Katherine didn't think I was a pathological liar. She'd conclude that I was a seducer, if not a pedophile, instead. She might say I'd deliberately done it to get back at her somehow. She might--

I turned and walked away. Her voice resumed behind me.

"As if I needed one more crisis. Now we're late. Line up the bridesmaids, hurry..."

I went back to the sanctuary and took a seat at the end of a pew halfway up the aisle. I stared ahead of me in a miserable fog, cursing my cowardice.

Organ music began to play. People kept entering and soon the sanctuary was filled. Occasionally someone I half-remembered stopped to greet me, but I didn't do more than smile and say hello. I didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Soon the music changed, became more festive as the wedding party began to assemble. The minister entered and took his place at the altar. A group of young men filed in at the front of the sanctuary. My heart leaped as I saw Ben among his groomsmen, in his tuxedo. He looked so fine wearing formal clothes--almost as fine as he looked wearing nothing.

The mothers of the couple came up the aisle next to the strains of Pachelbel, escorted by ushers. I looked away as Katherine passed me. Then the bridesmaids filed in. Their slow and stately gait did nothing to calm my racing nerves. I felt as if I were in an out-of-control vehicle hurtling toward disaster. There was only one way left to stop it.

There was an expectant pause, then the organist struck up the Bridal March from Lohengrin. My thoughts were in such turmoil that it took me a moment to realize that everyone in the church was standing. I hastily rose to my feet, just as my niece entered the room on the arm of her father, the rich lawyer.

Even in my distraught state I noted that Kris looked beautiful in her white gown and veil, holding her bouquet close to her bosom and keeping her eyes demurely cast downward. Her face was the picture of happiness--happiness I had in my power to shatter into tiny, irreparable pieces.

As if in a dream I watched her pass by and proceed up the aisle toward her waiting groom and the minister who would, in a very few minutes, join them in holy matrimony.

Ben's eyes were full on his bride-to-be as she released her father's arm and joined him at the altar. There was love there, whatever his inner struggles. The two of them faced the minister, who announced to the assembly, "We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Kristine Fontaineau and Benjamin Woodson."

The clergyman said how solemn an occasion this was, and how matrimony was not a state to be entered into lightly, words I had heard before at weddings but that I had never comprehended the meaning of as clearly as I did today. My pulse pounded in my ears so loudly I was sure people near me could hear it. I rubbed sweaty palms against my pant legs.

Then I heard the words I had anticipated and dreaded.

"If there be anyone who knows of a reason why this couple should not be married, let him--or her--speak now or forever hold their peace."

I'm sure in the dozens, perhaps hundreds of marriage ceremonies he had performed this amiable-looking man had never had anyone respond to the question. He paused but a second after he said it, then launched into the familiar refrain: "Benjamin, do you take Kristine to be your lawful wedded wife..."

"Wait." It was my voice that said the word, loudly enough so that the minister broke off, startled. Ben and Kris turned. The bride flung her veil aside. Her face emerged, eyes and mouth round with surprise. Ben's eyes met mine at that moment and grew a little bit wider.

I looked down, then around, and found that I had somehow risen to my feet in the midst of the seated guests. My hand was raised, like an overachieving pupil in an elementary school classroom.

I heard a low murmur of voices ripple around the room. Heads swiveled around in front of me to see who was causing the ruckus.

My face felt hot and I knew it was scarlet with embarrassment. I wanted to shrink back down into my seat, deny having spoken. Yet somehow my legs would not bend, and I remained standing.

The minister's face was now darkening with annoyance. "What do you mean by this, sir?" he asked.

I tried to speak. "You said--" but my words were drowned out by the buzz of voices now rising from the entire church. Desperation gave me strength. "I know of a reason why this couple should not be married," This time my voice carried strong and clear.

Absolute, shocked silence fell for just a moment, then the hubbub resumed twice as loudly. Individual voices reached my ear.

"Uncle Lloyd!" Kris wailed.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jerry Fontaineau was rising to his feet.

"Lloyd!" Katherine was next to him, her face twisted with anger. "Why are you doing this?"

I glanced at them briefly, and at my brother Art seated near them, silent, shaking his head. Then I turned to one person at the altar who had not yet spoken. I raised my hand again and turned slowly, with as much dignity as I could muster. I heard people shushing each other so they could hear what I had to say.

"May I have your name, please," the minister said, striving to keep his authority.

"Kothman. Lloyd Kothman. I'm the bride's uncle."

I looked at Ben, who stared back unflinching at me. His eyes sparkled, and the fair skin on his cheeks I had so admired last night was tinged with a rosy flush. He looked handsomer than ever.

"And your reason, Mr. Kothman?"

"I believe the groom can tell you better than I can," I said. I gestured to him. The ball was in his court. Ben could deny me and that would be the end of it. The wedding would go on and I would no doubt be escorted out of the church, in handcuffs if Kath and Jerry had anything to say about it.

The minister turned to Ben. "Mr. Woodson?"

I saw Ben close his eyes. His chest heaved once or twice as he struggled within himself. There was no sound in the church as the entire assembly waited to hear what he would say. I realized that I was holding my breath.

The groom's eyes opened. When he spoke his voice did not falter.

"He's right."

I expelled my breath in a long sigh. Gasps and exclamations rose from around the room. Ben extended his hand toward Kris, appeal in his face, but she shrank away, shaking her head. She bit her lip and looked close to tears. He then strode several steps down the aisle until he was only a few feet away from me.

"I want to apologize to everybody here. My family, Kris's family, and most of all, Kris, my fiancee. I'm so sorry. Sorrier than you can know."

He looked down for a moment, then raised his head again, determination in the set of his jaw.

"You see, I do love Kristine. But, if I married her, I wouldn't be able to love her as a husband should. I've known this for a long time even though I've tried to hide it and deny it."

"Ben, please! Not now."

An attractive older woman in the front pew was now standing, reaching out toward Ben. She had the same dark eyes and strong face. Ben turned toward her, his expression softening.

"Mother, you've always known, haven't you? Even though we've never talked about it. You've always known that I'm gay."

The last word in his sentence sent a fresh ripple through nearby listeners. Ben's mother crumpled slowly back into the pew, burying her head in the shoulder of the man sitting by her, presumably Ben's father, who stared silently at his son, his face ashen.

Ben turned one last time toward Kristine. The bride had turned away into the arms of her maid of honor. Her shoulders shook with silent weeping.

"Kris, I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe someday you'll forgive me."

He began to walk down the aisle toward the back of the church. Ben reached me and stopped, looking me full in the face. I looked back, not knowing what to say.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were, Lloyd?"

I hung my head in shame.

"Ben, I'm sorry--"

"It's okay." I looked up. He was smiling slightly. "You were right, anyway. Thanks."

He kissed me on the lips and hugged me, hard. The murmur of voices around us turned into a roar, distinctly menacing in tone. My astonished happiness at having his arms around me once more was mixed with dismay. I had no one but myself to blame, though. I had, without meaning to, outed Ben. Why shouldn't he out me?

Ben released me, and without a word, continued down the aisle and out the back of the church. I watched him go, wondering if I would ever see him again. My thoughts were abruptly shattered by a shrill female voice in my ear.

"Lloyd Kothman, how could you do this to us?" I turned. Katherine and Jerry were standing there, fury in their faces. Behind them were Art and Barbara. My heart ached at their obvious dismay.

"You planned this, didn't you? You did this on purpose. Seduced Ben and ruined Kris's life."

"We'll have you arrested," Jerry said, his face brick red. "Corrupting the morals of a minor."

I didn't reply to any of their tirade, which went on for what seemed an eternity, but was probably only a minute. At last they momentarily ran out of invective and I thought of something to say.

"I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen." Not great but the best I could do. At least I didn't hurry as I began to walk away from them, down the aisle. At that moment, the organist, apparently with some confused thought of lightening the situation, launched into the recessional, a jaunty classical tune. So it was that the Fontaineau-Woodson wedding crashed and burned to the theme from "Masterpiece Theater," and I got some exit music.

As I pushed open one of the heavy front doors of the church the organ was still playing, and I heard the minister frantically shouting for people to calm down. I stepped outside and the door swung shut behind me. I was alone outside in the sudden calm of a bright sunny afternoon, cars rushing by on Whitney Avenue, a child riding a bicycle down the sidewalk. There was no sign of Ben.

The mood inside had definitely turned ugly. A lynch mob could pour out the doors at any moment, intent on my blood. I ran to the parking lot in back of the church, got in my car, and got the hell out of there.

I don't remember much about the rest of that day. I drove out of town without any idea where I was going, into the Connecticut countryside. I looked at scenery and stopped at roadside stores on winding state routes to get gas and something to drink. Despite my efforts not to think about the ruined wedding, the events of the morning replayed themselves over and over in my mind.

My clumsy attempt to stop Ben from marrying Kris had caused a disaster of epic proportions. Even though it hadn't been my intention, I had cornered him into outing himself, in front of his family, friends and God. Once Ben had time to think it over he would hate me.

The more I thought about what had happened the more depressed I became. I had done it because, deep down, I wanted Ben for myself. As if I had any real chance. As if I didn't have a life and a devoted partner already. How deluded could a person be?

It was well after dark when I returned to the city and the Holiday Inn. I avoided the lobby, just as Ben and I had the night before. I had no idea where any of the wedding party was, or what they were doing, but I didn't want to run into any of them, especially not my sister or my brother-in-law.

When I got to my room, the message light was blinking on the room phone. Art had called. I dialed his room at once before I lost my nerve. He answered right away. When he heard who it was he sighed heavily.

"What the hell happened this morning, Lloyd?"

I told him an edited version of how I had met Kris's intended, heard his story and decided to act. When I finished there was a silence before my brother spoke. When he did, he sounded sad rather than angry, which made me feel worse.

"I'm not saying you weren't right. But couldn't you have found some other way to do it? Talked to Kath?"

I snorted. "I tried. As if she would have believed anything I said. Kath barely speaks to me."

"Well, she's sure as hell not speaking to you now. I can't believe I'm saying this about my own family, but I'd steer clear of her. She and Jerry are out for blood."

"They won't have me to kick around for long. I'm checking out first thing in the morning, Art. I'm sorry we didn't get to visit more. Thanks again for getting me invited to the wedding. Guess you're sorry now, huh?"

I kept my tone light, but inside I was shaking.

"You said it, I didn't."

"I guess I deserved that," I said as calmly as I could, though I felt as though he had just driven a stake through my heart.

"I don't understand, Lloyd. What were you doing picking up someone in a gay bar, anyway? I thought you were happy with Charlie."

He had me there. Suddenly I felt very tired and sad. I blinked back the tears that suddenly had risen to my eyes. "Good night, Art. Sorry I'm such a screw-up."

I hung up the phone, lay back on my bed and cried a little. The brother I had always looked up to was ashamed of me and I felt utterly alone in the world. He had also reminded me that I would have to tell Charlie what I had done--there was no way I could hide something like this from him.

Gradually I calmed down, and began to feel sleepy. I was just about to go get ready for bed when someone knocked on my door.

I went to it and peered through the peephole. The next instant I flung the door open. I was just about to throw my arms around Ben Woodson when I remembered that he had every reason to hate me. So instead I stood and said, "Hello, Ben," in my most casual tone. It was hell.

He looked puzzled. "Can I come in?"

I nodded. I shut the door behind him and we stood facing each other.

"So," I said, "How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Considering the kind of day it's been." He was wearing jeans, a rugby shirt and sneakers. It was the first time I'd seen him in casual clothes. They made him look younger than ever. My arms ached to hold him but still I dared not make a move.

"I guess it has been kind of strange, hasn't it?"

He gave a faint, derisive snort. "Kind of." He fidgeted, then burst out, "The hell with it," and embraced me. I hugged him back, weak with relief and joy.

"Why're you acting so weird, Lloyd?" he said against my chest.

"I thought you hated me. You'd have every right to."

His smile flashed as he drew back and punched me, gently, on the chin. "There, you're punished. You know how I feel? Relieved. Like a great big fucking weight is off my shoulders."

He sat on the bed. I sat next to him and draped an arm over his shoulder. "I spent a lot of the day walking on Whitney Avenue. I must have walked to Cheshire and back. Wore out those dress shoes, I can tell you that. My feet are killing me."

His face grew serious. "I had my cell, so I stopped and called Kris's room. She was crying, of course. By the end we were both crying. She didn't hang up on me, though. She still wants to work it out."

He shook his head. "She's a wonderful girl, Lloyd. I never really knew it until today. Know what I mean?"