Silver Wedding

SILVER WEDDING

‘Nearly seven o’clock, Brad. People will start arriving any minute’.

I looked at my wife.

‘You’re looking good.’

‘Only ‘good’? Tonight’s a special occasion. You might pull out all the stops and say ‘beautiful!’

‘You know me. Moderation in all things. Including compliments.’

She heaved a small sigh. ‘Indeed. Only moderately passionate these days. But I have to accept that we’re both getting older.’

She tucked her arm into mine.

‘But I still love you. And the silver earrings are beautiful.’ She touched them appreciatively, nails silvered to match.

We heard the click of the garden gate, the first of our guests was walking up the path towards the house. Balloons bounced in the breeze, music played softly in the background – I supposed it was stuff popular a quarter of a century ago, I didn’t remember and didn’t much care.

  ‘Happy anniversary, Brad and Polly! Congratulations on 25 years of happy marriage! A bit rare these days!’

Charlie had been best man at our wedding. A buddy at university, why, I had no idea –we had nothing in common, but I couldn’t possibly leave him out of the guest list. He was busy kissing Polly and exclaiming on all the changes in our lives since he made that dreadfully boring best man’s speech twenty-five years ago.  

  Others started to arrive, only one or two old friends, mostly new ones, neighbours, colleagues, friends of Polly. One or two hadn’t yet met both of us.

  Hands were shaken, kisses exchanged, we were soon in the thick of the greetings, hugs, embraces, laughter. I extracted myself from the embroil with relief, to deal with the drinks, all ready and waiting. Snacks in the offing.

Polly was ecstatic, sparkling like the champagne. I tried to appear so. It wasn’t long before the party was in full swing. The wide grin I had fixed on my face was getting painful. I watched Polly, it was important she didn’t suspect that anything was wrong.  I was endeavouring to extract myself from the clinging arms of Esmeralda, already tipsy, and, I suspected, ready for anything. Somebody started yelling ‘Speech! Speech!’

  I’d anticipated this, and had been trying out some ideas. But they came from the head, not the heart, and I had to make do with what was usually said at a wedding anniversary.

The cliches rolled out without much effort. Twenty-five glorious years. As beautiful as when I married her. Hasn’t changed a bit. Love her more than ever. The odd joke, one or two reminiscences. The audience laughed and smiled in the right places. I glanced at Polly – she smiled, gave me the thumbs up, bless her.

Ordeal over, I sat down with relief, and poured myself a glass of brandy. The champagne was useless, frivolous and trendy, did nothing for my restive soul. I needed something profounder. The party resumed – no sign of anyone wanting to go home yet. Esmeralda had disappeared, not alone, I guessed.

Someone started popping balloons – sounded like gunfire. No, we won’t go there – death had lost its appeal – it would hurt so many people.

We’d had two kids – one working abroad, he wasn’t able to join us, the other at university, he’d turned up five minutes ago.

‘Hi Dad! Hi Mum! This is Mariama.’ His companion turned a few heads in our direction. She was black, and just about the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes upon, at least two inches taller than our son, who melted into insignificance beside her. She bowed gracefully, and produced from behind her back a white rose which she carefully stuck into Polly’s newly dressed hair.

‘Happy happy time Felix’s Mum! You very lucky lady. Lovely house, husband still here with you. You must tell me secret!’ She roared with laughter, and proceeded to tour the room, wowing each guest with her outrageous African charm.

‘What a stunner!’ Charlie was heard to comment, with feeling.

 I wondered what she saw in poor old Felix.I didn’t normally think of him in those terms, he was a clever, good-looking lad, but was certainly eclipsed by this new star. I wondered how he coped.

Time passed, somehow or other. People started to drift off, the sober ones first, though we never found Esmeralda. The door closed for the last time tonight, behind Mariama’s graceful back. Polly and I collapsed on to the sofa together, were silent for a couple of minutes.

‘Good party,’ I said.

‘The party was fine.’

I sensed the empnasis.

‘What wasn’t?’

‘You.’

A shard of fear lodged in my heart.

‘Explain.’

 Her words came with difficulty, her eyes suspiciously bright.

‘It’s difficult. I ask myself, is Brad the person I married? Something has changed, is it him? Or is he the same man who has taken a different path? So much has stayed the same – his kindness, his support, his reliability, - his love. What’s wrong, Brad?’

I’d thought she hadn’t noticed. But you can’t play-act every day of your life without a hint that that is what you are doing. She’d spotted the symptoms, had she spotted what caused them?

I was silent for several minutes. I had put off this moment for so long. Wait till after the party, I’d told myself, don’t spoil it for her.’

‘You’re right, of course. I have thought so many times of talking to you about it all, but have felt so …’

My voice faltered.

‘So…?’

‘Ashamed. Guilty. Disloyal. Afraid.’

‘Afraid of what?’

‘Of losing you.’

That will not happen, whatever you have to tell me. I believe we love each other. Nothing can change that.

 Polly spoke the truth, but there is love …and love. I am not the person I was twenty years ago. Or perhaps I am, but didn’t know who I was in those days. Life goes by so fast when you are young, love, sex, marriage, children. it’s only when your career has peaked, kids grown up, you’ve paid off your mortgage, that you find time to think about yourself. The path I chose started to feel wrong, though there were rewards, lovely things to see along the way, which foolishly made me shut my eyes to the direction in which it was taking me. It would lead to the right place in the end, I believed.

But it has led me instead to a dark place where I am alone, disoriented, afraid, and overwhelmed.

‘Polly, I am gay.’

Another long silence. I looked at my wife. Her face was white as the rose in her hair. An eternity passed. Finally she responded.

‘I had thought of many things, but not that. We will deal with it, Brad. Not welcome news, but… not the worst it could be.’

The darkness in the wood was lightening a little. I could stop this wearisome pretence. I had to ask her the question I had been dreading.

  ‘Must we separate?’

‘I don’t think that is …inevitable, but I will have a lot of thinking to do...  There will be others to consider. The children must know, the rest of the family, friends perhaps. Our lives will have to change in many ways. But I love you Brad. I always will. I can only be happy if you are too. Separate but contented lives under the same roof?

She took my hand, as she had always done.

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