Page 41 of Best Woman
Somehow, I’d forgotten that Kim and I would be walking down the aisle together.
She meets my eyes warmly, devastatingly beautiful in her burnt sienna slip dress, with her braids pouring down the open back, skin shimmering in the synagogue’s warm lights and rich tones.
I think about how she’d felt over me, under me, inside me yesterday, how close we’d been.
We wait as the couples make their way, one by one, toward the chuppah.
When we are the last pair left, she holds out her arm so I can take it and leads me down the aisle.
It’s exactly as I’d imagined: two beautiful women in gorgeous gowns surrounded by a crowd of family and friends.
This is the image I want my family to have of me.
To replace the little boy and awkward teenager of their memories and leave me forever as this: a woman, the best woman.
I’ve won. So why doesn’t victory feel like I thought it would?
Because with every step toward the bimah, I alternate between memories of last night in Kim’s bed and everything I let her assume all those weeks ago.
The righteous anger she’s deployed on my behalf toward Aiden and my mother, the judgment she’s made of my entire family.
Victory feels hollow when I’ve lied for it, when I hadn’t really needed it to begin with.
In every way that matters I have the life I want.
It isn’t always easy and has in fact often sucked, but I had said This is what I want my life to be, and I had made it happen through sheer force of will.
And everyone in this room had said, for the most part, “Cool. Got it. You do you, babe.” Why wasn’t that enough?
Kim squeezes my arm as we part, and in that moment I resolve to tell her everything tonight, after the wedding.
I can’t sleep with her again without her knowing the truth, and if I’m able to really explain things to her, maybe she’ll understand and I can salvage this thing between us that already feels like something I can’t live without.
I just have to get through the ceremony and the reception, make sure my brother has the best night of his life, and then we’ll see.
Aiden enters with my mother and father on either side of him, and I feel a massive tidal wave of love for all three of them.
It is messy and intense but undeniable. My parents are beaming with pride for their son, and a smile breaks my face open.
I laugh, just a little. My little brother is getting married.
Rachel makes her entrance, luminous and lovely, and Aiden has the nerve to cry a single, manly tear. I resist the urge to make a barfing noise. He is so whipped .
Their vows are handwritten and elaborate. Rachel, who has grown up with boats, talks about Aiden being her captain, which seems a bit misogynistic, and her North Star, which is sweet.
“You will always be the Han to my Leia,” she says. Next to me, Ben groans.
“You will always be the Phantom to my Christine,” Aiden says at the end of his vows.
“Why do you get to be Christine,” Rachel whines, but she’s smiling so wide I’m worried she’ll crack a tooth.
“Because you’re the one who likes to stand behind a mirror and watch me sleep, baby.”
“You’ve got me there,” Rachel concedes.
“You may kiss the bride,” Rabbi Hoffman says, and Aiden does.