Chapter 14

Lee

Vicki was on terminal hospice. That always cast a pall over Wellhaven’s nursing staff. Yeah, we were aware, going into geriatric nursing, that we were going to lose most of our patients. It never got easy, though, even with a patient like Vicki who’d been pretty much out of it and unable to communicate for months and who didn’t have a loving family grieving at her bedside to be supported.

Normally, I tried to do the as much of the care myself as I could and rotate the nursing staff, giving her main caregivers more time with the younger rehab patients and the easiest residents. This time, I had an added morale boost for my staff. We were planning a wedding.

Harvey had recovered well from his urinary infection and once he’d regained his sharpness, he’d embraced the idea enthusiastically. Owen pretty much wanted whatever Harvey wanted, and Kashira was running with the whole celebration as a party for Wellhaven. So we had folks putting up rainbow streamers, which— Look out!— sometimes meant grabbing the arm of a wobbly senior trying to reach a little too far while clutching a walker.

“That’s plenty high enough, Mr. Vincent,” I said, letting go of the man’s elbow.

“Rainbows,” he told me with a grin. “Wouldn’t see that in my day.” He tried to cop a feel on my ass.

I stepped out of range, pretending not to notice. “You’re doing a great job.”

We had a team of three residents and a nurse out in the gardens filling flower vases. The landscapers wouldn’t be thrilled, but I hadn’t seen Carol so animated in years, so nothing was going to rain on that parade. Let her gather flowers to her heart’s content.

Lavonda in the kitchen had insisted she would bake the cake, which turned into cakes to meet the dietary restrictions of our diverse residents. The diabetic one topped with unsweetened whipped cream was going to be a treat for some folks who didn’t get that kind of dessert often. Griffin and Harvey had gone online to order three of the most extravagant groom-and-groom toppers they could find, and the delivery had arrived that morning, just in time.

Jonas and a few others grumbled loudly about “turning the place queer” but we ignored them and added more banners.

Leaving the scene of bustling activity, I made my way down to Vicki’s room. Noreen looked up from taking vitals as I came in.

“How’s she doing?” I murmured.

Noreen tipped her hand back and forth. “She’ll make it through the wedding, seems to be resting comfortably.”

I went over to the bed, lifted Vicki’s limp hand off the covers, and squeezed gently, noting the blue tinge of her nail beds despite six liters of oxygen flowing. There was room to go higher, so I turned her tank to eight and waited for her to pink up a little. Her fingers lay flaccid in mine. I wasn’t sure how much she might still be hearing, but I took a minute, leaning close to her ear. “I’m sorry you’ll miss the wedding, Vicki. You’d have enjoyed it.”

When she’d first come to us after her massive stroke, she’d still been able to communicate and enjoyed bright colors and music. At least she was feeling no pain now. “You might hear the music,” I told her. “We’ll leave your door open. Griffin Marsh playing the wedding march ought to be something. Plus some guitar selections he refused to tell me about. Harvey’s a bad influence.”

I was joking, mostly. The shine in Harvey’s eyes and the gusto with which he’d plunged into the wedding prep had been worth any blowback we might get. More than once, I’d met Owen’s gaze as Griffin and Harvey had their heads together, and we’d smiled at each other in satisfaction. No regrets.

“Another hour and a bit,” I told Vicki. “Noreen will be here with you.” She’d offered to stay so I could attend without worrying or being called away. A couple of the aides who were a bit scandalized by the idea we were holding a gay wedding had volunteered to watch the other patients who weren’t coming to the lobby for the main event.

Work didn’t hold off for weddings though, so I hurried to my office to squeeze in a call with the pharmacy about a compounded medication they claimed didn’t exist this month, even though we’d ordered it every month for the last year. Once we figured out it was a change of supplier issue, I still had time to get all the paperwork completed for Anna’s transfer to the hospital tomorrow. She’d be spending four days or so there after her surgery, and I made sure they had all of her complex medical history in a readable format. Sonny was going in too on Friday, just a brief trip for an MRI, but I double checked we’d booked medical transport with all the support he needed.

A knock on the doorframe made me look up. Griffin stood there in a tux and he took my breath away. Just plain, Holy shit, look at that man!

He raised an eyebrow. “Coming to the wedding in scrubs?”

I peered down at myself, then glanced at the clock on the screen. “No. Crap! Give me five minutes?”

“You probably have ten. Bringing all the residents in is taking longer than we thought.”

“I should’ve been there to help.”

“Trust your people. They’re doing fine. Just a little slow.”

“How about you?” I got up and went to him, setting a hand on his chest below a white rose he’d tucked into his buttonhole. “Nervous about public speaking?” The officiant site he’d signed up with had a lot of sample services and speeches on it, and he’d spent an evening paging through them, reading out a few good lines here and there while I watched a ball game on his TV.

“Nah, that’s pretty much my bread and butter. At least this time, I don’t have to make it rhyme or set it to music.”

“Hah. When you put it like that, yeah, you’ll rock it.” I touched his cheek, letting my fingertips drift along his cheekbone above the neatly cropped beard.

Griffin leaned in as if to kiss me, then stopped and said, “You were getting changed.”

“Oops. Yeah, I was.” I moved back. “The sight of you in that tux scrambled my brains.”

He grinned. “You like?”

“Wear it home tonight and I’ll show you just how much. I’ll peel it off you bit by bit.”

“Crap. Don’t give me a stiffie when I have to stand up in front of women who could be my grandmothers.” Griffin gestured me to the door. “Come on, get dressed. Ten minutes.”

I didn’t have a tux, never having been a Grammy nominee. My good suit jacket was tight across my chest and I chose breathing over closing the lowest button. Still, checking in the small mirror of the staff bathroom, I figured I’d do. I ran a comb through my hair, though nothing ever really tamed those carrot-colored curls, and tidied up my beard as well. Swapped my ortho shoes for leather lace-ups, washed my hands, and headed for the hum of voices coming from the main room.

The place had been transformed in the past hour. Enough vases of flowers lined the walls to make me plan to be elsewhere when the garden crew arrived on Monday to see the devastation we’d left. Every resident who wanted to attend was there, creating a traffic jam of armchairs, wheelchairs, and a few beds. Several men in suits and a couple of older women whom I didn’t recognize had to be Owen and Harvey’s friends from the outside.

Griffin dodged through the crowd and came up to me. “You clean up pretty fine yourself.”

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Nope. Well, yeah, maybe. We’re bringing Harvey up front in his chair but he said he’d be damned if he’d get married in a wheelchair. So we set up those two wingbacks for the men of the hour, kind of like thrones.” He pointed at a pair of chairs angled toward each other, draped in royal red fabric. Familiar royal red.

“Are those the Christmas tablecloths?”

“Kashira’s idea,” Griffin said. “Anyhow, can you transfer Harvey from his wheelchair to that one without it being a big thing?”

“Sure.” One advantage of being big and strong was that, while I tried to be smart about my back and used lifts and assists, I could pick someone up for a horizontal transfer if I wanted to.

“Thanks.” Griffin looked around. “Oh, good, there’s Prescott’s bed in place. Let’s get going. If you go stand by the chair on the right, it’s party time.”

I followed Griffin to the end of the room and took my place by one of the thrones. Griffin pulled out the piano bench and sat. “Time to get this show on the road,” he said, not shouting but with enough volume that the conversations quieted. He set his fingers on the keyboard and played the opening notes of Mendelssohn’s classic march. The room went silent other than Mary over by the windows exclaiming, “I know this song. I know it.” Anita put an arm around her and she quieted.

Watching Griffin play piano in that tux was a treat, but I turned when I heard the residents stir.

Owen and Harvey wore matching suits, a couple of decades out of date and no longer perfectly fitted, but classy with slim lines. Owen had a new cane, black with a silver handle, in place of his walker, and Harvey had chosen to wear a white diaphanous cape that floated around his wheelchair. Two of the younger aides walked them down the aisle, one pushing Harvey, the other arm in arm with Owen. When they reached the chairs, Owen turned and lowered himself onto one crimson seat.

I went to Harvey. “Can I give you a boost?”

“Please.”

With the aide maneuvering the wheelchair, I scooped Harvey up and eased him into the throne beside Owen, taking time to make sure he was sitting with enough support. The aide bent past me to arrange the white cape in a drape and swirl at Harvey’s feet. Then we stepped back. The two men reached toward each other, holding hands as Griffin brought the music to a swirling conclusion.

He stood and moved behind the two men, standing in the gap between their chairs as he glanced around the room.

“Dearly beloved,” he said. “I wasn’t going to start this ceremony that way but then I thought, why not? That’s a tradition that goes a long way back, the words rooted in a right Owen and Harvey never thought they’d have. It resonates with us, doesn’t it? How many weddings have we seen, been in, that began that way? Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two men in marriage.

“Owen and Harvey met in 1976. For those of you whose math is no better than mine, that was forty-eight years ago. Things were different then. In over half the states in the union, two gay men could be arrested for what they did in the privacy of their own bedroom. But the heart wants what it wants. These two men saw each other and their hearts knew they had found their other half, the person who would be their rock when they needed one, their wings when there was a chance to fly.

“Owen would tell you they had fights, and Harvey would tell you Owen snores, but from that first meeting they never looked back. Forty-eight years. For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer. The eighties came along and loving a gay man in that era was like having a loaded gun pressed to your heart, but they made it through, together, grieving loss after loss along the way. Then the nineties, the turn of the century, more spins of the globe, aging and changes.

“In 2009, the first decade of a new century, Iowa joined an elite few states that said, ‘Love is love, let them have equality.’ Harvey and Owen saw friends jump at the chance to marry at last. They went to weddings of friends and relations. But between them, rings and vows seemed superfluous. They’d weathered so many storms, cried and laughed together, celebrated so many lifetime wins. What would a marriage certificate add?

“But here, in this year of yet more changes, two men with forty-eight years of love found out their relationship doesn’t mean enough to be allowed to live together without the official seal of approval. So why became why not ? And that’s how we have this wedding before you now, celebrating Harvey and Owen.

“In a world that doesn’t always value love the way it should, they’re a shining example. Here are two people who said, ‘I choose this man, now and forever,’ and made it stick without the piece of paper, without the rules, for almost half a century. They’re going to say vows to each other now, and exchange rings. I’m going to pronounce them married. But really, that marriage was made forty-eight years ago, already shining and unbreakable, polished and forged into ever purer gold over time. All I am doing is making tangible a bond that has endured almost as long as I’ve been alive.

“Harvey, Owen, are you ready to exchange your vows?”

The two men had been gazing at each other while Griffin spoke. Now Harvey said, “Born ready.”

Owen chuckled. “I wasn’t robbing the cradle by that much.”

“You weren’t robbing the cradle at all.”

Owen shook his head, still smiling. “In 1976, I was at a party in a friend’s house. It was a mixed crowd, although queer-friendly, and I saw this gorgeous young man on the other side of the room. I figured he was straight, because that was how my luck had been running. And if not, he was way out of my league. I was pushing forty—”

“Not pushing that close,” Harvey murmured.

“Who’s telling this story? I was a dozen years older and quite a bit more battered and bent.”

“Battered made you interesting. And we were both bent.”

“Thank God, yeah.” Owen raised their clasped hands and kissed Harvey’s knuckles. “I was going to go home and stew in self-pity, but when I turned to go, there you were. You said, ‘Hey. Don’t be mad if I got it wrong, but do you want to dance?’ I couldn’t dance worth a damn, but the only possible answer was yes. I looked into your eyes and my fate was sealed. I love you, Harvey Williamson, and I’m still saying yes. Whatever you need, whatever you want, yes. Marriage, cake toppers, enough rainbows to drown a unicorn? Yes. I want to dance this dance with you forever. How about you?”

“I was at that party,” Harvey said. “I looked across the room and saw this guy who ticked all my boxes. He looked smart and confident and secure, and so fu— freaking hot. I told my best friend I wished I had the nerve to go talk to him. Robbie said, ‘Take your shot. Yeah, you might miss, but then again, you might win.’” Harvey raised their clasped hands. “This one’s for you, Robbie. Because I won so big. Forty-eight years and going for more. I finished that first dance with aching toes, because you’re right, you were a crappy dancer. But I also finished knowing I’d met someone very special.

“We’ve had our ups and downs, but from the moment you took my hand, I never wanted to let go. I still don’t. So it’s a yes from me too. Let’s ride this ride as far as it’ll take us, together.”

For a long moment of silence, Owen and Harvey looked into each other’s eyes.

Griffin cleared his throat. “Do you have the rings?”

Owen glanced at him. “We do.”

“You may exchange those now.”

They unclasped hands. Owen dug into his pocket and pulled out a wedding band. Harvey’s left hand lay limp in his lap. Owen raised it tenderly and threaded the ring on Harvey’s fourth finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Harvey had more trouble getting the ring out of his pocket. Owen had to lend a hand to help guide the gold circle around his ring finger. Once the band was seated on Owen’s hand, Harvey said, “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Griffin straightened. “With the power vested in me by the state of Iowa, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss.”

Harvey reached his good hand toward Owen, his fingers trembling. Owen scooted forward in his chair, caught Harvey’s hand, and leaned over so their lips could meet, brush, press softly. Neither man closed their eyes. Owen raised Harvey’s hand against his own cheek and turned to kiss his palm. Then their mouths came together again in a long slow communion.

When they separated, the volume of the applause startled me. I’d been lost in that moment. I want that. Someone who meant that much to me in our twilight years. Someone who would make me smile the way Harvey was smiling now. I looked up and my gaze found Griffin’s.

Something wistful in his expression made me hold the stare. He blinked as our eyes met and locked on each other while the applause peaked and ebbed. Then he rubbed his face and turned away.

When the clapping and cheers had ended, Griffin reached over and picked up his guitar. “And now the happy couple is going to promenade out into the garden for some peace and quiet while the wonderful kitchen staff get the wedding lunch set up. Harvey had a few requests for post wedding music.” Griffin plucked a string, then dove into the guitar solo for “Wipeout,” playing the hell out of it.

Owen threw his head back and laughed. “Of course he did.” He turned to me. “Can you help us get on the road to see the flowers?”

“Sure thing. Congratulations!” I helped Owen to his feet, then beckoned an aide over to give him an arm, and another to steady the wheelchair while I transferred Harvey. Together, we arranged his white cape across his lap, tucked away from the wheels.

A man of perhaps fifty, whom I didn’t recognize, holding a camera, came over. “Hey, Harv, you want some photos outside, too?”

“Sure. Let’s do it right. Thanks.”

“Friend of the couple?” I asked him.

“Longtime, yeah.” He shifted his camera to stretch out his hand. “You must be Lee. Thanks for making this possible”

I shook hands but gestured at the staff who were busy moving residents to the dining room and to extra tables set up along the hall for folks who usually ate upstairs. “Big group effort.”

Owen patted my shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

I arranged for the aide to push Harvey back down the “aisle” alongside Owen and out the garden door, slow progress despite Griffin’s pounding rock beat since everyone wanted to congratulate them. In the dining room, three cakes had been set out on a side table. Ten or fifteen minutes from now, they’d cut one, feed each other a piece.

But a different duty called me.

Noreen looked up when I entered Vicki’s room and murmured, “Did it go well?”

“Beautiful. And very them. Sorry you missed it.”

She waved a hand. “I’m sure someone took video.”

“Go get yourself some cake now. I’ll sit with Vicki.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She rose from the chair and patted Vicki’s limp hand. “I’m heading out for a bit, honey. Lee’s here to sit with you.”

And that right there was a reason I would do anything I could to keep Noreen on staff. She gave even a woman who hadn’t communicated in months the most personal, compassionate care she could.

I bent over Vicki to do a quick assessment, then sat in Noreen’s chair. The sounds of the party filtered down the hall, but in here, the soft hum of the suction pump and Vicki’s wet breathing filled the quiet space. For optimal care, she should’ve been in a hospital, but she had— wisely in my opinion— set up a health care directive that included no advanced measures. This quiet room, without the bustle of a high-tech ER and a bunch of interventions, was how I’d choose to go in her position.

Her throat rattled louder and I got up and suctioned her trach tube. Her color improved and her breathing settled again. No other reaction.

“Hey, there.”

I turned to see Griffin in the doorway, guitar still in hand.

“Hey.” I kept my voice soft. “Great wedding.”

“The guys did most of it themselves. I said a few words and played some music.”

He’d done more than that, but I just asked, “How’s Harvey holding up?”

A soft smile crossed Griffin’s lips. “Totally flying. Like, in his element. I left them debating which cake to try first.”

“I hope someone saves me a piece.”

“Me too.” He came in and sat on the straight-backed chair in the corner. “I always figured I could take or leave weddings, but I’m glad they got that chance. Can Vicki hear us?”

“Maybe?” According to folks who’d been close to death, hearing seemed to be the thing that stuck around longest.

Griffin said quietly, “Sorry you missed the wedding, Vicki. I could play you a little of the music, if you like?”

“Sure,” I suggested, ignoring the warm glow in my chest. “Might be nice.”

Griffin set the guitar on his knee. Sweet, simple notes of the wedding march fell from his fingers. In that quiet space, they covered the whirring pump and her faint gasps with melody. When the song was done, he segued into “The Edge of Glory.” I knew Harvey hadn’t picked that one, but I bet Vicki would’ve liked it.

He broke off playing, and I turned to see an aide peering in at us. “Hi? I was supposed to sit with her at noon if she was stable?”

“Right.” Vicki was progressing slowly. Nothing would likely happen today. “Thanks. Watch her color and the O2 readings. Call Noreen if you have concerns. We’ll get out of your hair.” I stood, said goodbye to Vicki, and Griffin followed me out into the hall.

“You’re not supposed to be working today, right?” he asked.

“No. I just wanted a moment. It won’t be long now.”

“Did you know Vicki? Before, I mean.”

“Not before she came here.” My feet took me down the corridor to the atrium door, and I held it for Griffin to follow me into the garden. The weather had cooperated with a lovely fall day, sunshine filtering through the changing leaves of the maple. I headed for a bench by the back fence.

Griffin sat beside me, cradling the guitar. “Must be hard, watching your patients go.”

“Yeah, some days more than others. It just feels like… everyone leaves, right? I mean, if I didn’t want to lose people, I should’ve gone into some other field, like pediatrics. But throughout my life, first grandma and then Dad and then Alice was sick and Mom had no time for anyone else and then…”

I cut myself off, but Griffin said, “And then me?”

The words “Don’t flatter yourself” hovered on my tongue, but I’d hopefully left that kind of defensiveness behind. “Yeah, then you, and then we lost Alice for real and Mom kind of checked out. I love my work here, but sometimes it adds up. And well-meaning people look at my patients and say, ‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ right? Sometimes that’s true, but people said that about Alice well before her quality of life got horrible, and fuck that shit.”

Griffin held an arm wide, and I took the invitation to scoot closer, leaning into his chest. He was smaller than me, but he felt solid, like I could trust him to hold me. Snuggling might be questionable at work, but I was off duty and we were pretty well screened by the lilacs.

“I didn’t know your dad died,” Griffin said. “I thought your folks were divorced.”

“They were. Are. When Alice was nine and had her first round with migraines, dear Dad decided having a family was harshing his flow or something. He ditched us and headed on a world tour to study the art of Africa and Asia. He’s still over there somewhere. When she got her diagnosis, he eventually responded with sympathy, but he didn’t come home. He pointed out that improving his art would mean more money, eventually.”

“Did he at least send money?”

I laughed humorlessly. “He sent a ceramic piece he’d made titled Inspiring Alice all the way from Singapore. Shipping must’ve cost a bunch. Mom ‘accidentally’ dropped it. Alice was in the hospital that week. We threw away the pieces.”

Griffin’s arm tightened around my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“We should’ve sold it. His stuff is worth a few bucks. But fucking ‘Inspiring’ when she was puking her guts up, and Mom was splitting her time between her job and the hospital and had permanent dark circles under her eyes? I’d have taken a bat to it.”

“And then I deserted you for the tour and my artistic career. Ouch.”

“Technically, you dropped me before the smashed ceramics. But after Dad left, so yeah.” I clenched my teeth against the remembered hurt. Not going back there. “Like I said, I understood. It’s not like you left your kids behind. The two of us weren’t anything real.”

“We were, and could’ve been more.” I felt Griffin’s chest rise and fall. “There were no great answers back then.”

I tilted my head to kiss his throat. “So we’ll move forward instead.”

“It’s a plan.”

I heard some shouting from the direction of the door, but no screaming, and no sounds of panic. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of our residents were getting overwhelmed with the excitement and the sugar, even if it was a happy occasion. I thought about getting up to go help, but I trusted my staff and it was my day off. So instead, I stayed put, nuzzled deeper into Griffin’s neck with his stubble rasping my forehead in a comforting way, and let the world turn without me for a while.