Saturday morning comes far too soon for my liking. I'm out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off, and in the shower before Specs can even open his eyes. We both agreed that we would just take our tuxedos to the gallery with us and get dressed there so neither of us would see the other beforehand, so I pull on jeans and a T-shirt and get to work on taming my hair.
There's a knock on the bathroom door. "Dutchy, I have to take a shower."
I open it and smile at him. "Feel free to get naked and wet in my presence."
Specs rolls his eyes and strips down, hopping into the shower. "You left me hot water. I'm impressed."
"Consider it a wedding gift." I grin and finish up my hair. "Hey, are you hungry?"
"Um, sure."
"What do you want for breakfast?"
He opens the shower curtain a little, shampoo lathered in his hair. "What?"
"What do you want for breakfast?" I run a comb through my hair one last time and inspect my face. I don't need to shave, and this is a good thing. The way my hands are shaking I just might kill myself.
"Whatever you're having's fine."
"So, ham steak and bacon it is." I grin and Specs flings water at me. "I'll just go make whatever we've got."
I head into the kitchen, humming.
Despite my nerves, today is going to be a good day. I can tell.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
We get to the gallery at about ten minutes after ten, and the decorators are waiting outside impatiently. We let them in and they wrap things up, and the florist comes right on time to set up the flowers.
I have to say, the gallery has never looked better.
I stand at the front of it while Specs is getting dressed, just looking. There are flowers everywhere, red and white silk draped over the chairs. There's a red runner going up the aisle, and the lights have been changed to softer whites and pinkish bulbs. It's beautiful.
The Weinbergs arrive around two, and my parents follow just a few minutes afterward. Mr. and Mrs. Weinberg head into the back with Specs, and my parents follow me to another room to help me with my tuxedo.
"Johannes," my mother says, holding up my jacket for me, "you look so handsome. Definitely fit for a wedding."
I grin as she kisses me on the cheek, and slide a look at my father. He doesn't think I can see him, so he's looking on with a smile of what I think is actually pride.
My mother smooths the sleeves and straightens my tie, then steps back to look at me. "I think you're ready." She smiles and strokes my hair, tears glistening in her eyes. "I can't believe you're getting married." She wipes her eyes with a handkerchief and shakes her head. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry."
"Aww, Mom." I wrap my arms around her and lay my cheek on top of her head. "It's not like I'm leaving you or anything. It's not even like a wedding wedding."
"Sure it is," my father says, clearing his throat. "I mean, it is to you, anyway, isn't it?"
I smile at him and nod. "Yeah."
"And don't think this gets you out of giving me grandchildren," my mom chimes in. "I still want one, at the very least." I laugh and hug her again.
My father looks at his watch and nods. "Well, son, are you ready to get out there?"
I clear my throat and nod, taking my mother's arm and heading out the door.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The room is packed. I see the tops of the heads of my friends from high school, and several of the artists Specs and I have befriended over the past few years, but above all of them, I see Specs, standing up front and grinning at me.
My mother smiles and kisses my cheek as I walk her to her seat, and I grin as I step forward to make my promises.
