It’s the Thought That Counts

Cory’s gut had been telling him something was up that day. It’s something he has been good at since he was a kid, being able to feel these things coming. He couldn’t really explain it, he just kind of knew. He had had the feeling since the moment he swung his feet out of bed that morning. The instant the soles of his feet touched the worn rug under the bed he knew it. He didn’t know what exactly, it wasn’t that sharply honed of a talent. He just knew it was something. 

Marc was on the couch in the living room down the hall. They’d tried sharing the bed a few times after a night out, but they decided mutually that they were better friends than lovers. Besides, Marc snored and Cory could not do that long term. He was up when Cory came down the hall, laying on his back scrolling on his phone. He was already stalking the social media apps of the guy whose number he got the night before. 

“Regretting not taking that offer last night?” Cory asked over his shoulder as he dug the coffee out of the cabinet. From his spot at the counter he could see the sly look on Marc’s face despite the sleep still clouding his eyes. 

“A little…” he trailed off. But Marc wasn’t the type to leave his friends stranded for a hook up. If you came together you leave together, was his motto. Besides, Marc was a masculinely good looking man and if he wanted it he could go out any other night and get it. Or afternoon. Maybe even late morning. 

Cory made them breakfast and after, while they drank their second cup of coffee, they talked over the finer points of the night before, laughing here, wincing there. It didn’t take a whole lot to make Cory’s memory a little foggy, and Marc loved reminding him of all his cringe-worthy escapades. Not that he was especially scandalous, but Cory always carried a little hangover anxiety the next morning. 

“So, when did you turn into a winker?” Marc asked over the rim of his mug, then winked himself and laughed. “It was cute…until it looked like a seizure.”

The morning went on in this manner, with Marc laughing and Cory wincing. He had almost forgotten about his sense of foreboding, chalking it up to his mild hangover. This is why he didn’t drink much anymore. He hated this feeling and was glad to feel it slipping away.

With the day getting on Marc decided to leave for a bit but promised to call later. He said call but Cory knew he meant text. And he probably wouldn’t have answered if he actually called anyway. 

“Mail’s here.” He said as he placed the bundle on the counter, one hand still on the door knob. He paused then, looking down at the corner of an expensive looking envelope with a return address he recognized at once. “Um, Cory. You might want to look at this. Or not actually. Probably more like not.” He went to grab it before Cory could have a look but wasn’t fast enough.

Cory stood, his hip leaning against the cold stone countertop, with the small envelope in his hand. The paper was the color of unpasteurized cream, and thick and textured. It felt luxurious to the touch, and the card inside was rigid underneath the sealed flap. He stared at the name of the return address, printed in a uniform script, for what felt like longer than needed. Marc still stood in the door way, the door gaping like his slack jaw. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Marc asked, aghast. “Are you serious?”

Cory tore the small envelope as neatly as his shaking hands would allow. It was what they thought it was. 

We cordially invite you and a guest to join us in the celebration of the union of Lee Smith and Robert McLaughlin

Cory didn’t need to read any more. He handed it over to Marc and made to busy himself in the kitchen. Marc held the small invitation between his fingers with a grip that bent the expensive paper. “This is in a week!” He exclaimed, hiding his own anger far less successfully than Cory. 

Marc had every reason to be angry, having been the one to keep Cory from completely falling apart. How many late nights had he sat awake in this apartment? How many of his own romantic interests did he let slip through his fingers during the last year? 

Cory came back around and took the now crushed invitation from Marc’s clenched fingers. “It’s the thought that counts.” He said. He really was trying to move on and be the better person. Lee had made his many bad decisions. Lee was the one who would have to live with all of those things. Cory was finally, finally, at a place where he understood that he didn’t have to live with those decisions as well. But his hands were shaking, and his chest felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He didn’t need to live with Lee’s bad decisions. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love him. 

He could feel Marc’s eyes burning into him, and he couldn’t meet his stare. “You’re not going to go.” He said. Cory couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement. Neither could Marc. He didn’t answer, but he finally looked up, tapping the invitation against his other palm.

“Unbelievable.” Marc said and left without another word. 

The rest of the day was shot. Cory sat for what could have been hours holding that velvety paper in this hands, looking at Lee’s name in that perfect calligraphy script. Just below it, Roberts name. Robert, who’s naked skin had been in Cory’s own bed, in his own shower. Robert, with his quintessential gay mans body, and hair, and old Hollywood good looks. Robert who must have had some personality trait that just eclipsed everything about Cory. Because why else would he have invited him into their bed? Why else would he have shared so much of what was theirs with him, so brazenly and carelessly? Why else would they have left the door unlocked and allowed Cory to find them together in the shower? Maybe they had wanted Cory to find them, maybe that was the plan all along. Maybe it was easier than coming clean on their own. Or maybe it was punishment for that glaring flaw in Cory that he still couldn’t pin point. 

Marc had helped Cory burn those sheets. And he had held his hand through the STD screening. 

And just like that, Cory was once again living with the consequences of Lee’s actions. 

The rest of the week was much the same. Cory went through the days and nights like a zombie, as long as he was left alone. But the little things, like dropping a fork at the dinner, or catching his shoe on the curb, sent him into a rage. 

When he told Marc that, yes, he was going, just to see it with his own eyes, Marc hung up the phone. He had hoped he would have been able to get him to go as his plus one. But deep down he knew that was a long shot. Besides, Marc had tried to fight him once, and he wasn’t above doing it again, even at his own wedding. So he would be going alone. The thought felt like an ocean wave.

It’s the thought that counts, he had said, holding the freshly opened envelope. What was the thought then? It was Thursday evening, less than two days to the big event. And it dawned on him to ponder this. What was the thought that counted? Why on earth would he ask me to come, he thought. What more could he possible wish to inflict? What more did I have to atone for, he went on. He was getting angry now, and defensive. 

The Friday work day came like molasses. Every second seemed to crawl through sinking muck, pulling him down into a breathless panic. Why am I even doing this to myself, he thought. Why am I even bothering to go? Of course Marc was right. intellectually speaking he knew that, but his heart was not on the same page. 

The night was worse than the day had been. He laid in bed, imagining every possible conversation that might happen, every possible fight. By the time midnight rolled around his hands were permanently clenched into fists. 

The day itself was a beautiful one. The sky was clear of all but a small smattering of fluffy wisps of white. The breeze, which came and went, carried the scent of the pine grove behind the venue. 

The venue itself was a modest wooden chapel, with a large event tent set up next to it. It made him laugh to himself that they chose an actual chapel. It made him wish Marc had come after all, so they could enjoy the spectacle together. The thought makes him suddenly aware of his growing bitterness. He doesn’t want to give this anymore room to grow, knowing full well it would take him over and a scene would surely ensue. 

Cory made sure to find a seat in the back, and away from the aisle. He was overcome with a sense of regret and anxiety at being there and wasn’t sure he wanted to be noticed. And he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t leave within the next thirty seconds, before Lee even showed face. 

It was too late. Up front and off to the left was an upright piano with a friend of Lee’s he vaguely knew beginning a classical piece. The sound was beautiful and reminded him of incense smoke the way it carried through the chapel. Everyone stood and awkwardly looked for the grooms, unsure of which door they would enter from. The minister was the only one who stood with an air of confidence, clasping a bible humbly in his hands before him. 

This was supposed to be him, he thought. They had never talked about marriage in a serious sense but this was supposed to be theirs. He gripped the pew in front of him and locked eyes on the minister to keep from crying, which wasn’t doing much good as his vision became hazy with tears. 

Lee and Robert entered from the side doors at the front of the chapel. Thank God, he thought. If Lee had caught his eye that would have been the end of it. He took a deep breath now, grateful for the emotions in him to be subsiding for the moment. Looking down at his hands against the worn smooth wood of the pew, the tailored hem of his cuff against his shirt sleeve, he wished he had never come. 

He wasn’t listening to the minister as the ceremony began. Cory was lost in his own thoughts. But he became aware that eventually the two men in the handsome tweed suits would begin their vows, professing their love for one another, and he would have to make a much more deliberate effort not to hear those proclamations. 

There was a moment of silence as someone made their way to a microphone with a piece of paper. Looking up, he recognized the woman behind the mic stand off to the left by the piano as a friend of Lee’s from college. She was teary and smiling, reading from the printed page she held in both hands. In this moment, looking up from his white knuckled hands which threatened to splinter the wood of the back of the pew, he found himself looking into Lee’s eyes over the distance of the chapel. 

His heart quickened, and he thought he saw Lee breathe in sharply. He wanted to see that. To see a spark of the old Lee, the Lee that he shared his whole life with. The Lee before the stains on the sheets that didn’t belong to him. But there was no way that Lee existed anymore and he averted his eyes as quickly as he had raised them. What was he doing? He had no business being there. 

When it was over the grooms walked up the aisle towards the double doors all the guests had come through. They were all smiles and quick handshakes and hands to the heart. He pulled it together before they passed the final row of pews in which he stood. 

He was back near the wall with a row of guests obscuring him from sight. Robert never saw him. But there was another fleeting moment in which Lee and Cory locked eyes. Lee’s eyes were different now, his brow furrowed for slightest of seconds. Cory sank under the weight of that look being pity. He shouldn’t have come. 

The guests filed out after the grooms, towards the tent. There was an announcement that there would be open bar for an hour while the grooms took pictures. Cory sighed with a deep relief that he could sneak out of there before this spiraled. An hour, he had an hour.

He should have went straight for his car, but that would have been too obvious. And he refused to be the jilted lover, off to wallow and pine. Fuck that, they owed him at least a few free drinks before he left. 

He ate the finger foods, which were quite good, better even than what he had expected, and ordered a whiskey neat and a beer. He only had an hour and didn’t want to spend it in line. The bartender let it slide this time but told him next round he could only get one at a time. He had no intention of sticking around for another round. 

He finished his whiskey quickly, but despite the food it went immediately to his face, making him feel swimmy. He drank his beer more slowly, leaning on the bar, doing his best not to interact with the people around him. They were a friendly bunch, though, and would take an interest in the guy standing so obviously by himself. It made him wonder if they knew who Lee really was? It made him wonder, do they know what cruelty he was capable of? 

He was able to keep conversation shallow enough that when his beer was finished it was no effort to slip away. He had almost made it to his car when he heard the crunch of gravel behind him. 

“Cory, wait…” he heard the familiar timber of Lee’s voice, and it stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see Lee standing there, in his nice looking tweed, the reception tent looming behind him. 

“I shouldn’t have come.” Cory said, fidgeting with his keys between his hands. 

“No, I’m glad you did.”

“Lee, why did you even invite me?” Tears threatened to rise in his eyes. 

Lee looked around to be sure they were alone and took a couple steps closer. “Look, I know things ended shitty.”

“Yeah they really did.” Cory said flatly. Maybe it was a bit of liquid courage but he was at once feeling confident enough to be in the moment. 

“I, uh, invited you without telling Robert.” He looked around again for prying eyes. “This whole thing,” he raised his hands to gestured to the day, “it got away from me. I invited you here… I invited you here in the hopes that you might stop me, that you might speak now and not hold your peace. Maybe we wouldn’t be married, but it shouldn’t have ended the way it did.” 

Like a clearing storm it dawned on him how sad this was. Not for him, but for Lee. He looked around at the carefully curated aesthetic, at the guests having a good time at the open bar, and at the man standing in front of him in the nice tweed suit. He wished Marc was here to see him in this moment, with the tears receding from his eyes. He realized in that moment that he didn’t need to live with the consequences of Lee’s actions because Lee was doing that all on his own.

Cory stepped forward and smiled wanly. “Lee, it was the thought that counts.”