Until Tomorrow

“I don’t know much about weddings, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how they work.” Lucas looked at them, and back at you. Again. Back at them, then back to you.

“What, Lucas? What am I supposed to do, fight her?” You whisper back, impatiently. 

Clearly, Lucas was not seeing this under the same light as you. That was his mom too! Yet here he was with you, hiding behind a thick shrub somewhere off the side of the garden, making jokes as you are both witnessing your mother locking lips with your fiance.

“Guess he wants to be a bachelor one last time before he becomes your husband”, you hear him say with a catty tone in his voice. 

You stare. This wasn’t just another night out at the swingers’ bar where you can just step in and save your man from his heavy petting session with a stranger. That was easy. Take your partner to the bar, let him play, and when your blood has boiled enough, you trash the guy he’s making out with. Easy, because they never put up a tough fight. Then again, standing at 6’3”, you’re quite a mile past the bell curve distribution. For you, removing someone from the bar’s booth was like flicking a tic-tac into the alley. 

You always hated being in an open relationship because it wasn’t a two-way street. While Jay wanted adventure, you just wanted him. At least he was honest, and at least your dignity remained intact - it was better to know who he was with at the bar than to have him sneaking around behind your back. Whatever, you would think, as you cleaned up the mess. There was an engagement ring on your finger and one on his, and this meant that at the end of the day, you both belonged to each other....for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health....that’s what you sign up for in a marriage. 

But this right here? It was almost unfathomable. 

Jay’s hand lightly caressed your mothers’ jaw. He leaned forward, placing his other hand on her neck, pulling her body closer to his. Not once did their lips break their seal. 

A crackle sounded overhead. Jay opened his eyes and pulled back to look up at the speakers. 

You hear your wedding planners’ voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, twenty minutes.”

“Mm. Twenty minutes.” Jay stood up and took her hand. 

“Maybe we should get in our places. Where are you sitting? Let me walk you there.” 

Your mother smiles and grabs his arm as he helps her up. You watched as they walk from the bench they sat on.

“Who’s gonna tell ‘em?” 

Lucas is still crouched down next to you, hiding his smile as he speaks. He was such a dog for drama. 

Even if it was his family’s drama. 

Ugh. 

“Twenty minutes.”, you repeat back to him. 

You don’t know what else to say. What were your options, 20 minutes before you walk down the aisle? Were you supposed to cause a scene? Curse Jay and storm out of the wedding? The wedding and the honeymoon, that you spent the past 14 months meticulously planning. 

“Get up. You’ll wrinkle your suit. It won’t look good in the photos”, Lucas tries to say matter-of-factly.

You snap back from your whirlwind of thoughts to unhinge yourself from this uncomfortable squat. Lucas helps dust you off and then places his hands firmly on your shoulders. 

He looks you in the eye. “Jay’s never met mom before. He didn’t know. And maybe he never has to find out. And look, Mom won’t remember this. Just wait till tomorrow.”

You both share a heavy sigh. He’s right. 

This was the silver lining of your mother’s disease. 

You moved to California with Jay two years ago, but mom will still wake up tomorrow and wonder why it’s taking you so long to come back home from the grocery store. Dad passed away from lung cancer last December, but she will insist on making him his favorite chicken soup and will ask Lucas to drive her to the hospital so she can see him again. 

Your mother won’t remember this wedding. Fat chance. She won’t remember being flown into your California wine-country wedding from her place in Tampa, Florida. She will forget that you teared up when you finally saw her again after you left Florida 2 years ago. She won’t remember seeing you in your tux and telling you how handsome you look.

“Whose wedding is this, Honey? I don’t remember getting the invite” is what she wondered out loud when Lucas guided her in earlier.

You’ll be lucky if she even recognizes your face tomorrow when you see her again. Sometimes she does, and sometimes she doesn’t. 

What makes a person a person?

Some will go on about the beauty of the body. It’s the freckles on your cheek; the birthmark behind your left leg, your olive skin tone, and the flecks of gold in your green eyes. How your hair grows in waves but your brother's is straight. How you have your mother’s nose and your father’s structured jawline. 

The rest say that it’s all about the mind. You persist in this world as the same person you were last week because you have memories that chain you to your past. This is how a person can still grow and go through changes without sacrificing their identity. You are the same person as the carefree 9-year old who chased girls on the playground. You are the same person as the terrified 16-year-old who came out to Lucas about your first boyfriend. And unfortunately, you are the same person as the heavy-hearted 20-year-old son of a forgetful mother who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s’ that day at the doctor’s office. 

Lucas reels you in for a hug.

“Come on. 15 minutes. They’ll be wondering where you’re at.” 

You wish you could believe that our body was the only essential thing to a person’s identity.

Then you wouldn’t have to keep wrestling with the idea that your mother was long gone before she's even dead.