Chapter 35: The Wedding
The chapel chosen for the wedding was small, much like our inner circle as compared to the grander weddings people would have.
Lee, Dee, Ally, and Catalina, along with half of the metropolis precinct were gathered and talking amongst themselves while the pianist entertained the crowd with his profound talents. Mark was standing at the podium in a three-piece navy-blue suit (I snuck a peek) talking to the priest while Dad was posted outside the double doors, ready to walk me down the aisle; in the meantime, Carmine and his son, Cody, were likely talking it up about the police work these days.
I sat in a different room with Angelina. Leaving my makeup and hair in the hands of a meticulous freelance photographer who excelled in making weddings memorable for both bride and groom was a good idea. However, my nerves weren't very accommodating.
She precariously went over my makeup with an extra fluffy foundation blender before taking out a mascara wand, dipping it into its coordinated formula. She looked noticeably calmer, all pretty in her peach-colored gown that fell to her ankles, while I restlessly fidgeted, sitting in my wedding dress.
"Stop moving," She instructed for the tenth time.
"I can't help it."
"Well, try. Otherwise, you're going to make me mess up." She lowered the wand, saying gently, "Just don't move so much."
"If I stop moving around, I'm going to start jabbering. I have a very expressive face when I talk. So, if you don't want me to ruin whatever art theme you've got going on here, Picasso, it's in our mutual interest that I don't stop moving."
"Look, I don't care if you move your hands, but stop bouncing your leg and moving your head."
"It's just we've been at this for over an hour! We got here before the guests did—How are we not done yet?"
Angelina softly laughed, "Mark did try to warn me that you'd get impatient, but perfection takes time, you know. It can't be scheduled."
"It has to be scheduled. Somehow. How else do people get things done? How do people manage that time without staying on schedule?"
"Well, time is an illusion for most people."
"Not for me," I debated. "Can I at least get a preview—"
She grabbed my shoulders as I'd attempted to look at the floor-length mirror behind me, shifting me towards her for the umpteenth time, saying strongly, "I said don't look."
"Not even a peek?"
"I only want you to see the final result."
"I can still act surprised—"
"—Not good enough. And I said, 'don't move your face'."
"Technically, I only moved my body."
"Your face is part of your body."
"Technically—"
"—Just be patient, Alex." Angelina soothed, smiling. "We're almost done."
"But—"
"Do you want to look like a raccoon on your wedding day?" Her stern tone disarmed me. "Because I can make that happen."
She held up the mascara wand threateningly. Considering the alternative, I submitted, taking a deep breath before exhaling until I didn't have any more air in my stomach, doing my best to calm down.
"You know, I'm probably just going to sweat it off anyway."
"You underestimate me." Angelina held up the bottle indicatively. "I thought ahead: it's water and sweat proof. Now, let's try this again. Look up at the ceiling. Try not to blink. We're gonna do this eye—Don't blink! Just a few more seconds…Okay. Good job…annnnd, now the other one…Excellent! Okay. Good to go."
"Thank god. Can I look now?"
"Yes. Now, you can look."
I turned in my chair, peering at the mirror. I recognized my reflection for who she was, but it was like the high-definition version of myself.
Light, glittery purple eyeshadow made my green eyes pop, coupled with winged black eyeliner; whatever mascara Angelina used seemed to extend and curl my lashes to such a degree that was dramatic and yet seamlessly natural. My hair was pinned up in a way that the royals would approve, decorated with diamond-like pins threaded throughout.
Angelina stood beside me, grinning ear-to-ear at our reflections: "They say 'the bride is always beautiful'. But you're just drop-dead gorgeous. Granted, I only did half the work."
I glanced at her pointedly, "Are you sure you don't want to get paid for this?"
"Hush!" She giggled, smacking my arm. "Trust me." She kissed the top of my head. "I'm glad to be a part of it."
The double doors that led to the priest opened slightly with my father peeking through them, his small smile widening when he saw me. He held a cane in one hand, looking dapper in his tuxedo as he closed the double doors behind him, smiling at the pair of us.
Angelina kissed the top of my shoulder and said comfortingly, "Don't be nervous. You look stunning" before opening the door just enough to slink through them without the wedding guests being able to see us. The doors closed as Dad looked me over.
"She's right, you know." He agreed, taking my veil from the end table nearest to the mirror and placing it on my head, lowering the tulle curtain over my face; I saw through it, seeing him slightly wince in pain.
"Are you okay?" I asked with concern.
"I'm fine, sweetie."
"If it hurts you to walk—"
"It's just a bit of a flare up—it'll pass."
"Are you sure? You don't have to—"
"The world could be ending, and I could get my legs chewed off by a rabid dog, but nothing would stop me from walking my baby girl down the aisle on her wedding day," Dad declared, although he winced again as he said it.
I glanced at the double doors. I was starting to regret the decision of wearing heels as the idea of tripping down the aisle would be great for a hilarious story, but it meant certain death by humiliation.
I looked back to see Dad's sentimental expression suddenly sadden.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's just that…Well, I feel like there's something I should be telling you right now but I'm not sure what that is. Your mother would have known."
"You don't have to say anything. I'm just glad you're here."
"As am I. Seeing you in your wedding dress, smiling as you are now…" He said happily, putting his arms around me.
"I guess that day finally came."
"What day?" He asked curiously.
"When I finally made you proud of me." I said quietly.
"What are you talking about? I've always been proud of you."
I shrugged, only half-convinced. Most of my childhood, I spent being a disappointment to his name and badge. Most of my adulthood seemed spent doing the same thing, if not trying to separate myself from my juvenile counterpart.
"There were days when I was disappointed in your actions, but I've always been proud of you," Dad said gently. "Frankly, I feel like you have set such high expectations for yourself, you presume that they're the same set by everyone else. I've only ever wanted you to be happy. Truly happy."
This mascara was sweat and water-proof—I sure hoped it was tear-proof too as they started welling up in my eyes.
Dad hugged me close to him. "No matter what you've done or what you do, I'll always be proud to call you my daughter. I love you, Lexi. Never forget that."
"I love you too, Daddy."
He handed me the bouquet of deep blue morning glories. Just as he did, the pianist started playing the traditional Canon D hymn, signaling that it was time for me to walk down the aisle.
My heart suddenly skipped a beat as I saw myself walking down the aisle, tripping over my heels, making a spectacle out of myself. Quickly, I stepped out of them, kicking them to the side, feeling the nervous energy suddenly hit me—How could I possibly want to savor this moment and run for the hills at the same time?
It was the attention, I figured. I'd always said I preferred to eek around in the shadows than stand in the spotlight. All that attention was going to be on me.
When the double doors opened, I glimpsed the entire room, seeing everyone's head turn in my direction. Why were there so many people? There looked to be more people than I remembered inviting!
Was I going to faint—is that what was starting to happen!
Thank god for this sweat proof mascara—I might just die here, but at least I'll look good.
"He's waiting for you." Dad coaxed.
I glanced in the direction he nodded.
I saw Mark at the podium, hands formally clasped in front of him, patiently waiting. He met my eyes from across the aisle; as if he understood exactly what was going on in my panicky brain, he smiled knowingly.
A sudden wave of comfort washed over me right then even though my heart still beat wildly in its cage.
Dad held his cane in one hand, poking out his opposite elbow for me to take. With resolve and renewed determination, I took his arm and we started down the aisle, walking past the pews.
Catalina, Lee, and Dee sat at one bench, waving at me excitedly.
Ally sat next to Cody and Carmine, who seemed to have made a new friend in Tapp and Sing.
Kerry sat next to Rigg and Tracy, who leaned over to her husband, whispering, "Isn't she just beautiful!"
Matthews and his wife sat together in one pew, smiling simultaneously while their son, Daniel, looked increasingly bored (not that I could blame him) when I passed their bench.
Angelina sat at the front with her friends, Denise, and Marie. It was as though she couldn't stop smiling even if she wanted to; her eyes tearing up like mine had been a few minutes ago.
Once we stood at the podium, Dad leaned in and kissed my cheek before heading off to sit next to Angelina who smirked when she realized I was barefoot while Mark grinned in good humor.
"You're a lot shorter without the heels." He whispered, waiting for the hymn to end—I had to give the pianist credit; he was committed to his craft.
"Well, if it rains first, you'll be the first to know, won't you?" I said quietly. "I just didn't want to take the chance of tripping."
"Probably for the best." He subtly nodded in Kathy's direction, adding, "She's tripped twice over the rug. Seems like a lawsuit waiting to happen."
"I know a few sleazy civil suit lawyers if you want to try for one. If you want to go on a cruise for the honeymoon, this seems like a fitting opportunity to snag a paycheck."
The priest cleared his throat. Mark and I glanced at the priest expectantly before he kidded, "If we split it three ways, I'll bear witness."
I snickered, "Looks like we have God on our side."
"Let us pray." Mark joked.
The pianist finally finished the hymn and turned in his seat, watching the ceremony play out as the priest looked between us with renewed humor and greeted everyone, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, we're here today because Alexis and Mark have said to one another 'Honey, I love you so much, we've gotta get the government involved!'"
Titters came from the crowd.
He continued magnanimously, "The bride and groom have asked that this be a relatively short ceremony—thank God for that, huh? So, we'll get the hitching part out of the way, so all of you can get to the reception." (A wide array of applause at that aspect.) "So, let's get this underway, shall we?"
While the priest spoke, Mark never looked anywhere else but at me. There was a subtle sentimentality in the way he held my hands, the way he gazed at me as if trying to savor this moment, scribing it down to the last detail. I smiled back at him and mouthed, 'I love you.' He returned it, smiling back at me.
The priest said wittily, "Marriage isn't easy. People say that, don't they? 'Marriage isn't easy'. 'Marriage takes work'. To some people, marriage is a job, even a chore. Sure, it takes a lot of work. It takes a lot of compromise. But you know, at the end of the day, when you're married, you have someone to come home to. Someone who's promised to love you no matter how pissed off you get, or no matter what the world decides to drop on your head this week or the next."
Dad bowed his head solemnly as if reconciling that his cancer was one of those things the world dropped on my head, but I sent him a reassuring smile. After all, it wasn't his fault.
The priest smiled and addressed Mark and me specifically, saying, "After a while, you realize that you have a language you two share that's all your own, a certain love language. You have someone who understands you in a way no one else does and that's someone worth marrying, don't you think?"
"Absolutely!" I said enthusiastically.
The priest grinned, winking at Mark as he said comedically, "I knew she'd agree with me. That's why I said it. She's really agreeable, isn't she?"
Mark said truthfully, "When she wants to be."
I shrugged. "You're not wrong."
He inclined his head in my direction as if proving his point.
The crowd tittered again.
"I can see why you two got together." The priest chortled. "Alrighty, let's check a few legal boxes now, shall we? Mark Hoffman, do you take Alexis Mayville to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and comfort her for better or worse, in sickness and health, and reap all tax benefits for as long as you both shall live?"
Matthews' and Rigg's giggles were louder than the others.
Mark cracked a grin. "I do."
"Excellent." He turned to me. "Alexis Mayville, do you take Mark Hoffman to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and comfort him for better or worse, in sickness and health, and reap all tax benefits for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
"Excellent." The priest lowered his Bible and said merrily, "Do either of you wish to tack on anything else—remember, this is a legally binding contract, so if you have something to add, now is the time to do it."
I couldn't stop smiling at Mark as I promised, "Hell or Highwater. I'm with you."
He returned softly, "Everywhere and anywhere, baby."
The priest glanced between us and said knowingly, "There's that 'inside language' I was talking about." He addressed the room: "Who has the rings?"
Angelina popped up from her seat as if waiting for the cue like a glowing, peach-colored dandelion. She handed each of us the other's ring respectively before sitting back down next to Dad, who looked like he was going to become a puddle of happy tears before the wedding ended.
For the first time since the ceremony began, the priest sounded serious as he said, "By giving each other this ring, you vow to love and behold them, to cherish and protect them, and to stay loyal and true 'til death do you part. As Richard Needham once said, 'you don't marry one person; you marry three: the person you think they are, the person they are, and the person they are going to become as a result of being married to you'." After a pause, he clicked his tongue and added humorously, "If you swear to uphold the vows taken here and now, you may do what Beyonce advised and 'put a ring on it'."
Neither of us hesitated to slip the rings on.
"By the power vested in me," the priest said loudly, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
Mark lifted the veil over my head and kissed me as if he'd been thinking of doing it since I'd started walking down the aisle—which, honestly, so had I!
When the kiss naturally broke, the priest congratulated, "Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to present to you: Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman!"
The entire room stood up in an uproar of applause, yelling, and loud whistling. Most of the whistling and yelling came from the officers and detectives alike while Catalina, Lee, Dee, and Ally provided a lot of the groundbreaking applause.
"Alright, everyone!" I shouted, gathering their attention. "That's the formal portion done—everyone, head to Frank's for the reception!"
One-by-one, the guests came up to congratulate Mark and me individually before they left to their cars. Angelina stayed behind, hugging, and talking to her brother while Dad explained that he was getting tired and he'd be heading back to the house to take his pain medication, followed by a nap.
He hugged me around the shoulders before he moved over to Mark, shaking his hand. "Congratulations. You take care of her now, you got it?"
"Of course."
"And you, young lady." He turned to Angelina. "Would you mind escorting me back to the car? I'd sure love to get to know you."
"Dad!" I scolded.
Dad chuckled, "I'm just kidding!"
No harm done since Angelina was giggling, taking his arm, and offering to walk him to his car anyway, since she was parked right behind him. As they walked out of the church, I turned to Mark who was watching me with that oh-so-familiar glint in his eyes.
"Don't even think about it."
"Think about what?" He said innocently.
"You know what. This is a church."
"I'm aware."
"So don't you even think about it."
He held up his hands in faux defense. "I don't even know what you're talking about."
"I know that look."
He smiled mischievously as he looked me up and down. "Can you really blame me?"
I looked him over in his flattering three-piece suit and said shamelessly, "Can't say I do. Even if I was comfortable fucking in a church, we don't have time. I'm sure as hell not going to a dive bar in my wedding dress."
"We can go home, change, and head over there," He said helpfully.
"Sounds like a logical plan to me."
Kathy let out a small scream, pulling our attention in her direction as Matthews had come up from behind the door, scaring her. She tried to wallop him with her purse, which he effectively dodged, he and their son laughing as she ran after both for good measure.
Mark came up from behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he said affectionately, "I love you."
I turned in his arms, smiling up at him. "You're saying that because you want to drive, aren't you?"
He grinned secretively at me before he headed outside to the car. The priest looked after him, turning to me.
"How long have you been together?" He asked.
"A little over half a year, why?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Really? I thought it was longer than that."
"Yeah. It feels like it." I agreed. "Some people think we're moving too fast."
The priest said serenely, "God doesn't judge and neither do I. The heart knows what it wants before the mind does."
I looked at him pointedly. "Did you smoke a joint before the ceremony?"
He snorted, "Of course not. Why do you ask?"
"You're just really easy going for a priest. Most of you are really solemn and critical."
"I'm a man of God. Not a man lacking in a sense of humor." He nudged me in the arm with his elbow.
"Point taken. Thanks for everything."
"Anytime. It's always fun to have a bride who doesn't take herself too seriously for a change. You'd be surprised how often they criticize me for having 'too much fun'—seems like the last person the groom would want to marry. In your situation, I think the detective got lucky." He bowed his head to me respectfully. "Alas, time waits for no one as I have a baptism scheduled in an hour. I hope you two have a wonderful life together."
"Sounds fun. Thank you for everything, again. Have a good night, Father."
"You as well, Mrs. Hoffman."