“And about that—”
“Gotta go give a speech, catch ya on the flipside,” he said as he darted down the aisle toward the pulpit.
The banter felt good, it was what we needed, or both of us would be a sobbing mess. His eulogy was beautiful, tasteful, and perfect. I sat alone, crying my eyes out. One of KP’s friends, at least I assumed he was a friend, sat beside me and handed me a tissue.
“Here, Caitlyn. I’m Lucas.”
“Thanks,” I said as I wiped my eyes.
KP spoke of the great love Wenton had for everything and how he hoped we’d all find that love in our hearts. He then shared that because of that love he bore for Wenton, he would keep Wenton’s urn and not inter it into the family plot. Wenton would want to be a part of something larger than a small space in the ground. There were some sounds of gasping and surprise around the room, but generally, I think everyone attending understood.
When KP was done, a choir began to sing. I was still a complete wreck. I hoped that KP would come back, but he was talking to people who had stopped him as he walked off the stage.
“You don’t know me, but I know you,” Lucas said, “and I just wanted to say that KP loves you. I’ve never seen him love anyone in his whole life, but I know for a fact that he adores you. I just thought you might want to hear it from one of his friends.” He smiled and squeezed my hand.
A beautiful woman joined him, and he introduced her as Alicia, his girlfriend. Wow, KP had friends. In the midst of things that seemed so wrong, with the death of Wenton and the cold stares from people I hardly knew, things also felt perfectly right.
EPILOGUE
Caitlyn
After Wenton’s death. KP cried a lot. We spent our Friday and Saturday nights holding one another, fighting the demons that threatened us both.
We enjoyed the little things, like going to the lake near KP’s house and making love to each other’s bodies, minds, and spirits. We became experts in making love to each other. I began to understand what his body needed and he listened to my cues to satisfy what my body craved.
One day, a box showed up on my nightstand. It was a little box. The little box. And beside it was a calendar. There was a note: Fill in the blank.
I just stared at it.
“Well, aren’t you supposed to open it?” he said from the doorway.
I shot him a fake scowl. “I thought you were the one who was supposed to put a ring on it.”
He looked affronted. “Hey, I already did.”
It was the best proposal in the history of proposals. No tears, just laughter.
He did put the ring on it, by the way. And it was beautiful. A vintage three carat European cut I could do nothing but stare at for days.
As the weeks passed and I hadn’t filled in the blank yet, I could tell that KP was getting annoyed.
“Do you not want to marry me?” KP asked seriously one day.
“I do! I really do. I just don’t want a wedding with a crazy puffy dress and people, and pretentiousness, and…” I was about to hyperventilate just thinking about it.
“We aren’t having all of that. I’ll arrange for something really simple. All you have to do is buy a dress. Tammy’s standing by as soon as you’re ready.” He was so good at calming me down.
I chewed my bottom lip. “That’s all?”
“That’s all, just buy a dress and show up.”
“No long walk down an aisle?” I was getting a little hopeful.
“Not if you don’t want one.” He was serious.
I jumped into his arms and kissed him. “Okay, I’ll get a dress.”
Together, we circled October twenty-third, Wenton’s birthday, on the calendar.
When the day on the calendar arrived, I put on my beautiful dress, which was flowing and lovely and met KP at the lake as I said I would. He had a lovely canopy set up with tables and chairs and a spread of food. Near the lake, there were just enough chairs for Tammy, Jamal, Ricky, Rafael, Lucas, and Alicia.
I finally could breathe.
Wenton’s urn was also on the table, and a minister stood under a canopy draped with orchids. KP wore a beautiful tuxedo and smiled from ear to ear.
In a simple ceremony, our lives were officially joined.
KP joked that since he’d saved so much money on our wedding, he’d donate what he would have spent if he’d married a gold digger to the art center. They were quite grateful to receive the six-million-dollar donation in Wenton’s name. It was an annual donation that not only would be used for the center but would also help the students who were aging out of foster care get set up with college funds, just as KP’s original donation would be used.
We also created a permanent karaoke venue at the mental health facility in Wenton’s name. We made sure that we also funded the weekly events held there. Wenton’s cottage became a museum and the people working at the facility were the curators. It was opened to the public every Sunday, where people got the opportunity to learn about Wenton’s disease and many others. The patients also hosted support groups in Wenton’s cottage.
At the wedding, KP told the story of why he had chosen the lake as the place he and I would be married.
“When Wenton and I were little, his heart was already fragile. My parents were worried that he would over exert himself and get hurt, so they created a wonderland for him inside the house. He was never allowed to venture out into the world. The only place he was allowed to go, on occasion, was this lake in front of our house. That castle over there was where Wenton and I grew up. My parents are in Spain at the moment, so I took the opportunity to have our wedding here today because this is what Wenton had asked me to do the day he died.
“See, he had me on a scavenger hunt so that he could see the world. He would tell me things he wanted to experience, and I had to find them for him and send him pictures. I think he knew all along what he was doing. I think he did it on purpose. By sending me on this hunt, I found my life, and I learned to live, love and be a better man. The hunt wasn’t for Wenton, it was for me.”
When KP was done speaking we were all in tears.
We then exchanged our wedding vows and our wedding rings. I had requested a simple band, but this one was encrusted with diamonds. I scowled as he put it on my finger.
“You don’t get your way this time, Prince Slayer,” he whispered in my ear. “I want people from miles away to see this ring on your finger because then there will be no mistake, you’re taken, and I’m yours.” Then he kissed me.
The minister admonished him for jumping the gun on the kiss, but he just smiled and shrugged.
And we lived happily ever after… or at least we tried to.
We still fought and drove each other crazy. We still made love and fucked. And it was all good. All right. All perfect.
After a year, I finally had the courage to open Gran’s letter. It only had one sentence scrolled in her handwriting inside:
“See, isn’t it all so fun!”
The video that accompanied the letter was of her making silly faces, and that was it. Gran was right as always, it was all so fun.
Epilogue