The Toast: a series of wedding speeches that led to a divorce

The Toast:

 a series of wedding speeches that led to a divorce 

“To the groom! As the best man, I’ve known Evan since we were in diapers. Well actually, he was in diapers, I was already potty-trained by three months. Doctors said it was a modern miracle. But that's neither here nor there. Ah, look at me, using these big words, who do I think I am? Eve?! Ha! Just kidding, just kidding. Eve, you're great, sweetie. For real though, Eve and Evan, you two were made for each other! The perfect match! I mean, Evan’s like this fun-loving, free-spirited, ladies’ man who always used to be down for a drink until he started dating Eve. But that's whatever, it’s not like Saturday Boys Nights were a decades-long tradition where we got smashed on beers and watched football. But yah, Evan’s this super cool, chill, ex-bachelor man, and Eve’s a stuck-up bitch. HA! Kidding again. Come on Ev, Don’t look at me like that. No, I’m not drunk! HEY—!”

“To the groom! Okay, everyone! That was best man Richard Peters. Thank you, Dick… (can someone help him off stage?) And now, I’d like to invite the maid of honour, Eve’s younger sister, Emily, to give a speech. Who is the maid of honour. Did I mention that? Emily. Maid of honour. The girl who couldn't pick a hair colour when she was fifteen, so she just dyed her entire head rainbow and everyone thought she was coming out as gay. Yah. Nevermind the fact that I’m a literal wedding planner, but noooooo. Emily’s the favourite. Emily is maid of honour. Emily got an honours degree from UofT. Emily has a steady job and her own apartment and a super hot boyfriend who magically couldn’t make it because he had to do a life-saving operation on his cancer patients. Meanwhile, I’m stuck living at dad’s bachelor pad, eating Chinese takeaway every night and watching Friends. But whatever. Emily. Maid of honour. So take it all away from me, I mean, take it away for me, Emily!”

“To the bride! Uhhh…. Right… Thanks, Erica. So umm…. Hi? Is this thing on? I mean, I guess it would be, seeing as everyone already used it. Ahem. Right... My name’s Emily, as my dear older sister Erica already said. And that you all should already know. Being either from our family, or from Evan’s. Uh. Right. Speech. I had written one, but can’t seem to find it. I think I might have left it at home? Oh shoot, did I leave my hair iron on? No. I don’t think so. I didn’t even do my hair—”

“—it shows—”

“Uh, thanks, Erica. So, anyway. To the bride. Eve, my older sister. My best friend. My rock. When you told me you wanted me to be maid of honour, I thought, why me? Don’t you like, resent me? I mean…. I basically killed mom. I’m the reason… but that’s… ahem. Anyways. Eve. You are both my mom and my sister. You basically raised me. I mean, right? It’s not like dad was around to, anyways. And Erica was so consumed by rage, despite being so young. Anyways. And I just thought, like, don’t you hate me? I would. Hate me, that is. I took everything! I took mom, I took dad, I took your happy younger sister. I took your childhood. But still, you never… you never said you resented me. I don’t know how… sorry. I need a minute—”

“It’s okay, Em... to the bride everyone! People, please raise your glasses to the bride! My daughter, the new Mrs. Evelyn Diane Rogers-Nguyen! Man, that’s gonna be weird. Not just my daughter having a different name, but that name being so… you know. When my Evie here told me that she was marrying a guy named Evan Nguyen, I thought to myself, no way this lasts. But, here we are. At my daughter’s wedding. And I’m giving a speech. Saying goodbye. To my little girl. My only daughter—”

“Dad, you actually have two other daughters—”

“Shush now, Erica. A toast to Mrs. Evelyn Diane Rogers-Nguyen. You’re still keeping the name Rogers, right, Evie? You’re shaking your head “no”… are you sure? I mean, don’t you want to keep the old ‘Rogers’ name alive? I mean, right? Evan, settle this for me won’t you, son. Can I call you son? Man, I’d always wanted a son. We thought Erica was gonna be a boy, actually. We were actually gonna name her Eric. Ah well. Then she came out without a penis, and we added an a to the name. As in Ah, another girl. You get it.”

“Wait, dad, you thought I was going to be a boy?” 

“Oh yeah. And Emily here was a complete accident. I mean, in more ways than one, am I right? If Emily wasn’t born, I wouldn’t be on my fourth divorce. Or if my dear Ellie had just gotten that abortion like I told her to. Ah, but then we wouldn't have Eve, either. Only reason Ellie married me, y'know, was because I got her pregnant with Eve. Now, don’t interrupt me, Erica. Where was I? Oh, yes. Evie, you gotta keep the Rogers name, yah? Or at least, name your kid after me right? Though, David Nguyen. It does have a bit of a ring to it, eh? Ah, if I’d taken your second step-mother's last name, I’d have been a Nguyen. Or your fourth step-mother’s last name, now that I think of it. What was her name again? Leanne? Or was that Laura? Lucy? Okay, my first wife, that was the girls’ mother. My Ellie. After that it was the girls’ babysitter. That was Lucy. For sure. Definitely. Maybe. Then there was wife number three. Candy. Gold-digging bitch, if I’m being honest. Not because she was a stripper, but because she wasn’t a good one. Y’know what I’m saying? Yeah, so anyways. Wife number four. That was your sorority sister, wasn’t it Emily? The one with the twin who I had a threesome with? Oh yes, that was Leanne and Laura. Great girls. Super flexible. Don’t remember which one I was married to…”

“It was both, at different times, Dad.” 

“Thank you, Em. Ahem. Where was I? Wife number five, now that’s still in the air…”

“Okay, thank you, Mr Rogers. Everyone, please give a big round of applause for the bride's father. I think we’re just about done with speeches. If anyone else has anything to say…?”

“I object!”

“Wait, who said that?”

“I did!”

“Oscar? What are you—I thought you had a cancer patient to operate on today?”

“I delayed it. I couldn't miss your sister getting married, Emily. Not when I could stop it!”

“Wait, what? Oscar, you’re dating my younger sister, not my older one! Also, objections were during the ceremony. This is the reception. You’re a bit late. Also, she’s getting married, dude. So, a bit late in all aspects.”

“I don’t care! Eve. Evie. My Evelyn. I only started dating Emily to get close to you. I’d hoped, no, I prayed, that the closer I got to Emily, the closer I’d get to you. Alas, I only pushed you further away. Well not anymore! I’m here, to announce that I, Oscar Wilder, am in love with you. Will you be, not Mrs. Evelyn Nguyen, but instead, Mrs. Evelyn Wilder?”

“Holy shit. Holy shit! HOLY SHIT! Oscar! You did not just propose to my older sister, the day she got married, while dating my younger sister! You piece of shit!”

“Wait, Erica! It’s not what you think!”

“Uh, I think that you’ve been dating Emily, and fucking me, all while secretly in love with Eve! You bastard!”

“I can’t believe—”

“How dare—”

“Now don’t even—”

“I never thought—”

The ceremony hall was alight with shouts, accusations being flung like rice at a wedding. Why do people throw rice at weddings? Is it because rice, as a seed, a grain, will land in the earth, take root, and grow? Or is it just to make it harder for people to clean up? Why is love so messy? Could I have loved anyone else but you? I’m not sure. I don't know if my heart could fit anyone but you. Don’t think it could hold someone else. I know I couldn't hold a different person in my arms, call them baby, tell them I love them. But can't someone love me as I am? Must I change to be loved? Or must I be loved in order to change? To be loved is to be changed. To love is to change someone else.

“We should have eloped."