Page 96 of Fathers of the Bride

In the last few years, I’d lost my show, lost my marriage, and had an affair with my own husband that didn’t work out. On the other hand, I had a healthy, beautiful daughter who was about to get married and, at least for the moment, a wonderful home—not to mention many little revenue streams that added up to a not-entirely-horrible income. Was I a lucky person? Or an unlucky one? And would thirteen pies change that in any way?

Andy was already there helping to take food out to the buffet. When we reached the kitchen Pudge and Lissa were there, as were Jeffery and, inexplicably, Raj. What was he doing there? Had Andy invited him? Or was it Pudge?

“Hello Miles,” Andy said, carrying a very large tray of stuffing.

“Hello Andy. Is this a good time to tell you to go get stuffed?” He looked confused, as though he wasn’t sure how to take that. Well, honestly, I wasn’t sure how I meant it. I added, “It was a joke.”

“Yeah, I got that. I just didn’t know we were joking.”

Then he walked out to the dining area and took the stuffing to the buffet. I busied myself with setting up a dessert table and did my best to ignore him for the next half hour or so. Timidly, Pudge came over to me while I was placing a meringue pie onto a stand I’d brought. She held out a piece of paper. Instantly, I knew what it was.

“No.”

“Andrew suggested I give this—”

“No.”

“Please? It’s just a small list of friends I forgot.” Lowering her voice she added, “Black friends.”

“You forgot to invite your Black friends?”

“Apparently, I’m a big old bigot.”

For a moment, I felt sorry for her, so I said, “That’s not exactly what’s going on. You’re not a bigot in the Southern sheriff let’s-go-a-lynchin’ kind of way.”

“That’s true, I’m not,” she said brightly.

“But you have been insensitive, tone deaf, inconsiderate—”

“All right, I get the point.”

“The good news is those are all things you can work on.”

Immediately, her hand sprung out with the list. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

I’d backed myself into that corner. I had to make a choice. I wanted to say no. But if I said no her Black friends wouldn’t get an invitation. Then I realized they probably wouldn’t come anyway. It was very late notice, and knowing Pudge, they were probably very aware they were her “Black friends” and would stay home.

I took the sheet of paper out of her hand. “Fine. I’ll get them out by Monday.”

“Monday! But they’re already so—” Seeing the look on my face she changed direction. “Monday would be wonderful.”

She began to walk away but then stopped. “Let me ask you something. We’re about the same age and we’re both white. How did you get so good at not being ‘tone deaf’?”

“As a gay man, I’ve been discriminated against. I know what it feels like. I could never purposely make someone feel that way.”

“Hmmmph,” she said, considering. Then, she added, “Thank you for not screaming.”

“You’re welcome.”

I decided to sneak over and address the elephant in the room. And this time by elephant, I meant Raj. I said to him, “I hope you’re not planning to Instagram this.”

“Oh my God, no! This is not my jam. My followers would be horrified if they knew I was here.”

“Your followers don’t believe in good works?”

He pursed his lips at me, and said, “You just said you didn’t want me to ’gram this.”

And, of course, he was right. I had made my point, though. Walking away, I made a mental note to write a blog on the importance of charity work.Myfollowers would be interested, I was sure.