The Wedding: A Family's Coming Out Story (27 page)

            Sheldon’s
foot tapped unconsciously, with alarming rapidity, but that was as bad as it
got.

ROSLYN
   
Actually,
we both thought all the stories we heard that night were wonderful. Louie spoke
movingly; other friends told anecdotes as well. Sheldon and I got to see Andrew
and Doug through new sets of eyes, through their friends. That night was one
more step up the ladder on the way to the top.

ANDREW   
It was a good warm-up
for Saturday night’s out-of-towners’ party, when the house was jammed with over
seventy guests. And once again, we were late. This time it was Doug’s doing.
Whatever. No one seemed to mind, except my father, of course. The evening was
in full swing as we made our way from room to room. There was a hum of
excitement in the house like I’d never felt, though we’d had plenty of parties
over the years. And it wasn’t just because I was one of the guests of honor.
Well, I’m sure that was a big part of it, but there was a buzz in the air, as
if someone had piped in extra oxygen. Everything felt brighter, clearer, moving
in a vivid swirl of color and light. We kissed and hugged everybody we could
get our hands on. It was a kick getting to see all of our friends spiffed up.
Everywhere you could hear the sounds of eating, drinking, laughing. The weather
was ideal, and most of us were trying to squeeze into our backyard. Doug and I were
standing on the grass when Dian asked if anyone was home next door. I told her
they had gone away until Sunday, and I went inside for a minute. When I stepped
back out, Diane, Doug, and a dozen friends had set up camp in our neighbor’s
backyard, commandeering their lawn chairs, tables, and deck. Fitting,
considering the whole wedding had started with the same philosophy behind that
maneuver:
Work with what you’ve got; ad if you haven’t got it, appropriate
it
.

DOUG   
I sat on the neighbor’s porch
with our friends, drinking in the night. Terry was sitting next to me, and I
put my arm around her and whispered in her ear, “When you go, you go all the
way.” She laughed, since she’d heard that line before. As far as I knew, until
a year ago Terry wasn’t just heterosexual, she’d dated practically every man I
ever introduced her to. Back in the old days when we were inseparable, I
practically felt guilty that I wasn’t straight, so I could be another notch in
her garter. Now, well over ten years later, and in her first lesbian
relationship, she nabs Lauren. Terry’s great-looking, don’t get me wrong, but
Lauren is a
babe
, with legs for days.

            “First
time out of the gate, Terry, really, I’m impressed.” I raised a glass. “To you
and Lauren.” “To you and Andrew.” She tipped hers right back at me. Her late
arrival in the land of Sappho was just one more in a series of lessons I’ve
long been hearing about the fluid nature of sexuality in many women. A few of
those who attended our wedding had crossed from dating men to women, or the
other way around. Others crossed one way, then back the other. These friends
helped me see that women are often less caught up in superficial differences
than men. they weren’t looking for blondes, or bodybuilders. Or even men,
necessarily. Or women. That’s not to say they don’t appreciate beauty. One more
look at Lauren reminded me of that.

            My
sister Lynn approached me, concern furrowing her brow. “Michelle thinks you’ve
forgotten her birthday.” Since I’d been at the party, I hadn’t thought about
it. But we’d already arranged with Roslyn to have a birthday cake decorated
that I would present later on. “She said, Uncle Doug hasn’t even wished me a
happy birthday!” Ouch. I wanted the cake to be a surprise, but I certainly
could have said “happy birthday” without tipping her off.

            I
picked up Andrew on the way to the Merlings’ patio door, and told him I wanted
to get everybody inside. We passed Roslyn’s sister, Helen. With their hair done
alike, they could pass for twins. Her husband, Andrew’s uncle Gary, sat
sullenly on the edge of the patio, wearing a disapproval scowl. I shot Andrew a
look, and he said, “Forget about it. What can you do?”

SHELDON   
My friend Nookie, who’d
ridden this whole roller coaster with me, giving me advice all along the way,
had agreed to say the traditional prayer over the bread, which follows soon
after the ceremony. He offered to prepare a few words to say over the blessing.
It’s a job that usually goes to the family patriarch, but I knew Uncle Rudolph
wouldn’t be coming. Then, that Friday, Nookie called me at the office and said,
“Would you mind? I want to call Rudolph and tell him I’m representing you.”
“Sure,” I said, “why not?” Later he called me back and said, “I called him, and
everything’s great.”

            Now
it was Sunday morning, and just a couple hours until I’d put on my tuxedo.
Bonnie, her husband, David, and our granddaughters were in from Toronto, and
staying with us. David’s a sporty kind of guy, and I like to beat up young
kids, so we went to play tennis in the park a couple of blocks away. Roslyn was
out at the hairdresser when we got home. The housekeeper gave me a frantic
message. “URGENT – call Miriam Friedman.” Why would my cousin make a call like
that today?
God, someone’s sick. Or worse.

            “Sheldon,
you’ll never guess who called me this morning.”

            “Is
everybody OK. Is everybody coming?”

            “Uncle
Rudolph called. He can’t live with himself. He has to come. By himself. I’ll
pick him up. I had to call you, because he’s ashamed to call you himself. He
wants to know, can you fit him in?”

            “What
do you mean? Of course! I’ll call him. You’ll take him to Eaton’s?”

            “Yeah,
I’ll take him.”

ANDREW   
Noon on Sunday, the crew
was at our door.

           
Ready
or not, here I come out. On the streets of Montreal.

            We
all drove to a park at the base of Mount Royal, and there wasn’t any dipping of
toes into the water – we jumped right in. I guess it’s like the fear of the
unknown that my father was feeling about the ceremony. I’d built this up in my
head, and now that we were actually doing it, now that I was holding Doug’s
hand walking up the street to the park, now that we were embracing, now that I
was kissing him under the trees with still camera snapping and video camera
circling us, now that our lips touched in the open air, the fear evaporated.

DOUG   
We sprinted all around town
shooting still and video in silly vignettes. We played on the railroad tracks,
hid in the bushes with our heads sticking up, popped out from behind grand
columns of the Old City. It felt like we were making our own little
Hard
Day’s Night
, minus the music and the adoring fans. It was lots of fun. And
I was thrilled with how comfortable we both were in the mushy shots.

ANDREW   
We stopped for a shot
wherever the mood struck us. Driving through downtown, we spotted two Italian
sailors in skintight navy outfits right out of a New York City ballet ad. We
pulled over and got a “Hey, sailor” picture with all of us in the shot. Back at
the hotel, after two hours of action, we stumbled through the lobby, ready to
take a break, when I saw the pièce de résistance. A bride who’d gotten married
earlier was sitting with her husband, and her gown was draped over a chair. I
asked if we could borrow it, and David, our photographer, snapped a handful of
choice poses. In the best one, I’m holding the dress just under my neck, the
frilly lace tickling my chin, and Doug is standing right next to me, holding
the veil behind both our heads like a medieval halo framing us together in a
drag tableau.

DOUG   
If
Turning Point
were on
a more conservative network instead of ABC, this shot would have been the
publicity photo…
Fags in drag getting married: How to keep your family safe!
We Distort, You Decide
. And even though I trust and admire the gang at
Turning
Point
, I made Enrique turn off the video camera for the wedding gown
shtick.
This one’s for the photo album only, thank you.

ANDREW   
Back up in the room, we
relaxed in the Jacuzzi bubble bath as planned, for a precious fifteen minutes
of privacy and quiet. The crew came over just before we got out, so we could
get a couple silly snapshots, and from then on, as far as we knew, the cameras
were running. George came over to do the best-man-type duties, like helping us
into our tuxes and hosing Doug down as he obsessed over our tardiness.

DOUG   
Well, guess what. We were half
an hour late. Supposed to arrive for group photos at 4:00 PM, we didn’t get
there until 4:30. And the wedding was scheduled for 5:30.

ANDREW   
What he’s not telling
you is that everyone else was late too. Whatever. We took as many pictures as
we could. It was a flurry of direction: stand here, scoot over, move in, step
back, where’s Grandma, smile, turn, do it all over again. And throughout all
the groupings, my auntie Helen, my mother’s sister, was coming over to Doug,
tugging on his jacket. “It keeps doing this…” And she’d gesture like the lapels
were floating away from him. Doug would tug it down. By the time we took the
next photo, auntie Helen would step back in and they did the whole dance over
again. Doug was getting frustrated, so I whispered, “Never mind, she’s always
been fussy.”

            When
the time came for the full family photo, David Sternfeld gathered everybody,
all my aunts, uncles and cousins, and rather than “cheese,” he said he’d call
out, “One-two-three-
yes!
” As we all stood ready to smile, he called it
out for real: “OK, everybody, get ready, one-two-three-” And just as the rest
of us zestfully countered back one enormous “YES!” my uncle Gary called out a
resounding “NO.”

            Well,
he made his point. His disapproval was hardly news. So we made a point of
ignoring it.

            After
a few more chaotic group pictures, Doug went off to practice with Diane for
their song.

DOUG   
It was all happening too fast.
We went through the song a couple of times, and Diane sounded good. I was
unaccountably nervous. I’d only been playing “Your Song” since I was
twelve
.
Just as we were about to sign the
ketubah
, Roslyn stopped by with the
news that Andrew’s uncle Rudolph would be coming after all, and what’s more,
he’d be sitting at the head table. Heck, I’d never met him, and all I knew was
that he’d said Andrew was a shame on the family. I bristled at the notion he’d
sit on the dais with us, but I knew instinctively to drop it.
This is the
way it’s going to be, and even if I could change it, what would be the point?
So now he wants to sit alongside us?

            Next
we moved into a large storage room where we were set up to sign the
ketubah
.
Geri adjusted the boutonniere in my lapel. Then more pictures as we signed.
People whizzed around me. It was like one of those nighttime picture postcards
taken on a long exposure. You know, the ones with the head and taillights from
cars drawing garish streaks of light across the road. For a minute I was as
lead-footed as a monument in the middle of one of those photos, with
everything, everyone, every moment, skidding by, just out of reach. Dizzy, I
sat down and listened to the hum of activity coming from the next room. The
click of high heels and just-shined shoes on the tile traced a path from the
hall to the chairs where they’d sit and watch…

            Our
Wedding.

            I
stood up, and before I knew it, the string quartet was playing the theme from
Out
of Africa
, which was the cue for the procession to begin. I gave Andrew a
kiss, then stood between Lynn and Michelle, and gripped their hands.

ROSLYN
   
I said
to Sheldon, are you nervous?

            “No,
not really,” he told me.

            I
didn’t believe him. “
I
am,” I said.

            “I’m
not,” he countered. “Really. I just want the ceremony to be over.”

            The
music was playing. And as I watched out family, our daughters, their children,
my mother, and Mitchell all take their turns down the aisle, passing all our
family, our friends, I had a strange sensation.

            Defiance.
Laced with a twinge of pride.
We’ve done it,
I thought.
In spite of
all your petty cruelties, the thoughtless snubs. And I’m so proud. Proud of
myself. Proud of my son. Proud of my husband. And proud of my family that we
would do this. So many of you out here tonight said, “This shouldn’t be.” And here
it is. Whether you like it or not.

            And
it felt great.