Saturday, December 20th, 2003

St. Michael Roman Catholic Church

12:23 PM

Olivia Benson

"I can't breathe."

I remember those words being said to me, over and over again, as we sat in the back of the black stretch limousine en route to St. Michael's. The sky outside had opened while we slept last night, and the bustling New York streets were covered in a glistening blanket of snow.

Despite all that happened last night and this morning — the good and the bad — the five of us managed to stay on schedule. After sneaking out of Elliot Stabler's hotel room, I ran straight into Amanda's and unloaded on her. We spent the better half of the 7 o'clock hour crying our eyes out to one another. I dumped everything on her lap: from how hard my breakup with Cassidy had really been to the doctors telling me I couldn't have children and to making out with Elliot. She, in turn, told me everything that she had been battling internally over the past few days; the doubts and insecurities she was feeling regarding her impending nuptials. The same feelings clouded her judgment and drove her to drink half a tequila bottle at the bar last night. Though she loved Carisi more than life itself, how could she be so sure that it would last? Both of them had watched their parents' marriages crumble before their very eyes. How certain was she that they wouldn't make those same mistakes — that they wouldn't do the same thing to their kids one day?

I told her she was crazy. The two were more in love than I'd ever seen anyone be.

She told me to live like I was auditioning for my funeral. She told me that it was okay to be happy. It was okay to move on. Okay, to want to take time to find me.

And she told me that if what the doctors told me was true, and I really couldn't have children, she would make sure that she and Carisi blessed me with many nieces and nephews.

We both told each other how proud we were of the other, proud of the women we had become and would continue to become.

We ended the conversation by saying I love you; a phrase that had come so naturally regarding the other. And then, we said that we wouldn't mope around any longer. We popped open a bottle of champagne and a carton of orange juice, and turned the volume up a little too loud on Shania Twain's Man! I Felt Like a Woman and danced around her hotel room without a care.

Amanda Rollins will always be my best friend. No matter the path that we decided to go down, we would be joined at the hip for the rest of our lives.

I was in awe as she sat beside me in the limousine. We'd been passing a bottle of Martini & Rossi champagne around since we pulled away from the front of the hotel, blasting Fleetwood Mac's Rumours album as loud as the driver would let us as we ebbed and flowed through Manhattan traffic. I can't listen to Second Hand News without reflecting on that day. The opening beat still sends chills down my spine and brings me back to one of the happiest days of my life. I take a swig of champagne and pass it to Amanda as she declines. The tremble in her hands intensifies the closer we get to the church. I place my hand on her shoulder for comfort as she clutches onto the handle of her bouquet. I remember all that she and I have been through as we stop at a red light, muffled sounds of taxi cab horns, and tourist conversations taking place off in the distance. Though Amanda was two years younger than me, we'd done a lot of growing up together.

I'll never forget the dresses that either of us wore that day. You hear the stories of how some brides pick out the most God-awful dresses for their bridesmaids to wear. Amanda, however, wasn't like most brides and let us choose whatever dress we wanted, as long as it was available in emerald green, wasn't strapless, and was long enough to make the front of our heels visible. The dress that I had chosen was a long, emerald green chiffon number; the sleeves fell off of my shoulders, and the neckline formed a heart shape around my chest. I'd paired it effortlessly with a pair of nude pumps and accenting jewelry, one of those pieces being a beautiful gold Tiffany bracelet that Amanda had gifted me earlier that morning.

I can't accept this, Rollins. It's too much.

Olivia, I wouldn't be getting married today if not for you. I want you to have it. You can pass it down to your daughter one day.

What if I have more than one? I don't know why I chose to ask that question in the way I did — maybe it was the universe sending me some sign.

Then, well, I guess you're shit out of luck. Could you imagine 3 Olivia Benson's walking this Earth?

We'll all be shit out of luck, then.

I was with Amanda when she picked out her wedding dress. We'd snuck up to Kleinfeld Bridal on one of our rare off days and spent hours combing through the racks for the perfect gown. It only took her 15 to find the one. The dress was stunning; very her, in every way that a dress could mirror the person wearing it. The gown was designed by Christian Dior and consisted of a lace, strapless top that flowed into a three-layer tulle skirt. Her sandy blonde hair was done in an elegant updo, with wisps falling to frame her face. She's kept her makeup natural, minus the fake lashes that she said felt like how she would imagine a butterfly wing feeling if it landed on her eyelid. Her diamond dangle earrings were a wedding gift from Carisi that Elliot had snuck in, along with a note and a beautiful flower arrangement earlier that morning. At the same time, I was being poked and prodded in the makeup chair. We'd exchanged a simple greeting before he retreated to his room, Amanda's gift for Carisi in tow. Rollins had commented after about how she could sense the sexual tension between us in the air, and the other bridesmaids had chimed in to agree.

As Don't Stop begins to fill the limo around us, our singing becomes louder, and the champagne bottle is polished off. I remember the feeling I had that moment as the words in the chorus rang out from the speakers.

Why not think about the times to come

And not about the things that you've done

If your life was bad to you

Just think what tomorrow will do

Most people say that music can cure you; can change you. I don't know what it was about that song then, but for the first time in nearly a month, I didn't feel so sorry for myself anymore. I didn't feel so much like my life was a joke. I felt free. I felt like everything would be okay because, for once, I was choosing to be happy. Friendship, a glimmer of hope, and the promise of a beautiful future silenced the unkind voice in my head that refused to retreat.

I was going to be okay. Not tomorrow, not three weeks from now. Today. Today I was going to be okay.

Live your life like you're auditioning for your funeral.

I've carried that quote around with me for the past 20 years.

"Liv, I can't do this. I'm going to pass out."

I'd been so caught up in my little world that I didn't notice we'd approached the front of the church. The driver silences the music as we ready ourselves to depart the limousine. Bella instructs him to drive around to the back entrance, per the insistence of the church wedding coordinator. It gave Amanda a few moments to cool off. Her face had turned white, and her forehead was beginning to sweat. From the window, Enzo and Austin, two of Carisi's cousins, pass out programs to guests and parishioners alike. The line to get in was wrapped down the uneven marble staircase, spilling onto the sidewalk. The majority of Amanda's family lived in Georgia and were unable to attend the wedding today. The guests mainly consisted of Carisi's immediate and extended family and their individual and mutual friends, former Marine buddies, and fellow officers from precincts across New York's five boroughs.

"You can do this. Everything is going to be okay. You've waited almost two years for this moment."

"Yeah, and now that it's here, I feel like my chest is closing. Do you see all of those people?! I'm going to mess up!" she exclaims. "I, I didn't practice my vows or my responses last night, and you heard Father Anthony during rehearsal. If I don't say everything verbatim, he won't marry us!"

I shake my head. "Rollins, that is not going to happen. You will walk out of that church with Dominick Carisi on your arm, come Hell or high water."

Amanda reaches into the built-in cooler beside her and digs through the ice until she finds a mini bottle of Prosecco. She bites the top off and proceeds to chug the contents. I know she has a million things on her mind right now: was the reception venue decorated? Did the cake arrive on time? Did all of the guys have their boutonnières pinned on correctly? Will the DJ remember we changed our first dance song at the last minute?

Did Carisi bother to show up?

I know that's what she's thinking about after his botched attempt at making it to rehearsal on time last night. She won't dare to say that's what she's thinking; I know her better sometimes than she knows herself.

Plus, I was a detective. I could smell fear from a mile away.

For her sanity, I couldn't wait for today to be over.

Once we reach the church's back entrance, Lydia shuffles us inside the bridal suite hastily. While setting down our personal belongings, she informs us that we only have about 15 minutes left until we are set to begin. "Did you want me to get your father and bring him down?"

"That won't be necessary," Amanda replies, taking a seat on one of the paisley couches pushed against the back wall of the suite. "He's not coming."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Lydia responds, hanging her head. "If you don't mind me asking, who will walk you down the aisle then?" She stuffs her black clipboard under her arm, giving Amanda the look. The look of pity that she damn well didn't deserve. Her father was an awful man. It was better for all involved that he wasn't in attendance.

She straightens her posture and puffs her chest out a bit. "I'm walking myself down," she smiles, standing firm in her decision that she had made months ago.

"I love it," Lydia responds, clapping her hands together. "It's so… 21st century."

"Sure," Amanda smiles, laughing a bit to herself. It was the only way she could stop from crying. What little girl has never dreamed of her father walking her down the aisle, giving her away to the man that she loved? Even if that man was a piece of shit.

"Before I forget," Lydia says, her voice trailing off as she approaches the conference table in the middle of the room. "A box came for you before you got here." Lydia removes the gold-wrapped box from the oblong wooden table and hands it to Amanda. "I'll be down to get you girls in about…" she looks at her watch, "12 minutes."

As Lydia makes her way up the stairs, Amanda begins to unwrap the package thrust into her lap. She's careful not to destroy the cardboard box under the wrapping paper and carefully rips the tape using her nail. Once the top is removed, she carefully picks up the card placed delicately on top of the tissue paper. Skimming it over, she brings her hand to her face, too stunned to finish reading. "It's from Carisi's mom."

"Do you want me to grab the photographers?"

"No," she says, skimming the card once more. "I just want to enjoy this moment with all of you before that circus starts again."

I peer over her shoulder and give the card a once over. I can feel a lump in my throat begin to form, and I try my best to ward away any sign of oncoming sobs by looking up at the light from the ceiling fan hanging over our heads. Amanda passes the card in my direction, and with her blessing, she asks me to read it aloud. Her doing so would have ruined her makeup.

I clear my throat as I begin to read aloud, "Dear Amanda,"

Dear Amanda,

I wanted to take this moment to say welcome to the family. It has been a blessing to watch the love between you and my Dominick grow over these past few years. We have never seen him as happy as he is with you by his side. You have changed him for the better, and I do not doubt that you two are soulmates in every lifetime, including this one.

This veil has been passed down in our family, beginning with my grandmother, Anastasia, back in 1931. This was the same veil when I married Sonny's father nearly 30 years ago. And today, this rightfully belongs to you. I hope that it brings you better luck than it brought us.

I love you, Amanda, and I am so excited to be able to call you my daughter-in-law finally.

We are all so blessed to have you in our lives.

With much love,

Serafina Carisi

"There's a comb attached to it," Bella explains, her thick voice filling the dense air. "Would you like me to help you place it?"

"Yes, please." Amanda looked on with admiration at the woman that would soon be her sister-in-law. Rollins takes the veil out of the package and studies it carefully. She runs her fingers over the course pattern and the impeccable stitching, breathing in the scent of the other women that wore it before her, picturing them in her mind.

"I know it doesn't match your lace exactly," she says as Amanda passes the veil to her. She stands and crouches to Bella's height.

"It doesn't matter," Rollins replies. "It's stunning… the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. I can't thank your mom enough."

After tugging a few times at her hair, Bella steps away to admire the back of her head. "How does that feel? Is it snug? I have bobby pins in my purse if you need some."

"No," Amanda replies, the smile on her face growing wide, exposing her dimples. "It feels good. Thank you."

Though, yes, the lace was not an exact match, it complimented the dress well. It was several feet long and pooled into a half-moon once it touched the floor. It was stunning. She was stunning.

If I kept standing here, I was going to cry.

To pass the time, the five of us exchanged light pleasantries, touched up our makeup, fluffed her dress several times, and offered many words of encouragement. Before we knew it, a chorus of footsteps had begun to echo down the steps. Expecting it to be Lydia, we readied ourselves to take the long walk up the steps — bouquets in one hand, tissues in the other, dropping both as we attempted to reach for our lipstick tubes.

"Amanda, you look beautiful."

I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Thanks, Cap," she says, looking at him with a goofy grin plastered on her face.

"Lydia sent me down to gather all of you. Are you ready?"

"I think so." She exhaled the breath that she had been holding in sharply.

"Lydia also told me that your father was unable to make it. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she shrugs.

"If you'll have me…." Cragen begins, his voice growing hoarse. "I'd like to do the honor of walking you down the aisle."

Damnit, Cragen. Here come the tears.

"I…" she says, caught off-guard by his question. "I'd be honored."

He sticks out his arm as she intertwines hers within. "Let's go get you married then, shall we?"

The walk up the stairs was one of the shortest yet most extended walks I'd ever taken. As we reach the narthex, we see the groomsmen — Bella's husband, Tommy Sullivan, one of Carisi's cousins named Angelo, and fellow squad member Fin Tutuola standing in a single file line, awaiting the girls' arrival. Serafina and Carisi's grandmother, Antoinette, had already been seated in the front pew on the right-hand side. As the wedding party processional music, St. Anthony Chorale comes to life from the organ in the choir loft, the bridesmaids and groomsmen lock arms and begin their walk down the aisle.

Once Fin and Theresa bow at the top of the altar, they split apart and take their seats in their designated pews. Lydia gives me the cue to begin to make my way down the aisle. I take a deep breath, look back at Amanda and give her and Cragen a thumbs up and start my walk to the front of the altar—bouquet at your belly button. Walk slower. Don't forget to smile! I focus as several guests in the pews ogle in my direction. Once I've reached the halfway point, I can see Carisi and Elliot standing next to one another. Their hands are positioned in the middle of their stomach, and the right is on top of the left. Both men wear matching tuxes; the only difference is their tie color. Both have the same smiles radiating from their face, stretching ear to ear. Damn, he looks good. That tuxedo suits him well. And his eyes… they look so blue, especially in the illuminating sunshine peaking through the stain-glassed windows.

As I take my place at the altar directly across from Elliott, I turn my body to face the vestibule. I watch a handful of Carisi's nephews successfully make their way down the aisle, with Mia following closely behind, scattering white rose petals in her tracks.

Once the wedding party processional music silences, the church doors shut, creating a loud thud heard amongst the congregation. Canon in D begins to fill the church as the doors open to reveal Amanda and Captain Cragen. The guests and parishioners stand up from their pews and watch on as Carisi falls apart a few feet away from me. Elliot places his hand on the top of his back, comforting him. I can see him trying his best to hold back the tears that have filled his eyes, and inaudibly the word wow escapes his lips.

"Who gives this woman to be married today?" Father Anthony asks as Carisi sidesteps to join him in the middle of the top step of the altar.

As if on cue, Nick Amaro, John Munch, Fin Tutuola, and Don Cragen bellow a loud "we do," which receives a handful of laughs from the congregation members.

Cragen and Amanda exchange a small hug and kiss on the cheek, and as he places her hand in Carisi's, he says, "you better take care of her."

"I will. I promise." Cragen retreats to his seat in the first row and joins the congregation members in standing.

The formalities of a Catholic wedding soon begin after that and flow effortlessly; the sign of the cross, the opening prayer, readings by both Amaro and Cragen, the response hymns, and the homily.

In it, he spoke of partnership and about how being in marriage was a lot like being partners in the NYPD. He spoke highly of Amanda and Carisi, wishing them many blessings for a beautiful future together.

Upon completion, Father Anthony asks the wedding party to join Carisi and Rollins on the altar as they state their intentions before God and the congregation. As we settle into our places, I fluff Amanda's dress and sweep her veil down the front altar steps. Father Anthony steps in front of them and states, "my dear friends, you have come together in this Church so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of the Church's minister and this community. Christ abundantly blesses this love. He has already consecrated you in baptism, and now he enriches and strengthens you so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity. And so, in the presence of God, I ask you to state your intentions. Amanda and Dominick, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

Without hesitation in either of their voices, they both respond with, "we have."

That afternoon, after years of planning each detail down to the very second, Amanda Rollins walked out of the church with Dominick Carisi on her arm.