The Wedding: A Family's Coming Out Story (19 page)

            Line
Andrew’s, a few of my oldest friends remained guarded in their responses. while
they offered halting congratulations, their reservations often surfaced through
one not-so-subtle phrase, a refrain I heard from so many people I could hum it
in my sleep: “Are you going to have
bridesmaids
?” After a few choruses,
it was clear that those who’d ask this vaguely derogatory question were
squeamish about the whole same-sex wedding notion, and didn’t quite understand
what we were doing, or why.

            As
for the friends we could always count on, their kindness was regularly repaid
with calls at ridiculous hours and shamelessly selfish requests. Jacqui even
commiserated with me over Howard Johnson’s tuna salad the night before she ran
the New York Marathon. She repeated loudly a concept I’d heard from Geri,
George, Debbie, and others: Why not cancel the plans in Montreal and do it in
New York? Jacqui add a more far-flung proposition: If we were drawn to Montreal
because we’d found a drop-dead location, why not ask our friends, starting with
her, if they could help us – through donation of time, money, and connections –
put together an equally special wedding in New York? We both knew there was
more to it than that, but the thought was lovely. She wanted us to know the extent
of the support that existed out there.

            George
and Geri were the rocks of support I leaned on every time the going got tough.
Ever since high school, Geri has been a font of common sense, good taste, and
self-deprecating wit. She was one of those friends many gay men and lesbians
know and love who figure out we’re gay before we do. Still, I had a brutal time
coming out to her. Actually, I didn’t have to. We were at George’s party when
she walked in on me midkiss with a friend of the host. In a way, it wasn’t an
accident that it happened under George’s roof. He was the first person to make
me feel that it was more than just OK to be gay. By just being himself, he
provided a positive example I could watch and learn from. And it didn’t hurt
that we were both typically – even
stereo
typically – gay in the
old-movie/show-tunes department. We became fast friends, and I was impressed by
his choice to be bravely, irrepressibly out and NBC, where we met in the page
program. Since the old days when we seated guests at
The Tonight Show
,
he’s been, along with Geri, the place I go to be myself. Now, with the wedding
plans under siege, it felt as if we three were one in our frustration.

            I
also called Karen often. We’d met just months before at her home in New Jersey,
but I felt closer to her, in some ways, than to anybody. Our wedding plans were
following the same trajectory, in terms of both the calendar and the karma. We
went into this with precisely the same motivation: to celebrate our
relationships. And we had the dame strength: we didn’t see ourselves, or our
loves, as intrinsically different – neither better nor worse – than anybody
else’s. One key difference emerged between our experiences. Karen’s parents,
and her father in particular, were playing the leading role in the planning of
her wedding to Robyn. And their attitude, she reported, was one of
unquestioning support. Within their extended families, they had their share of
turmoil and controversy. But when it came to the planning, her parents were
behind them 100 percent. That unquestioning support made a huge difference for
her. I could see it in her body language, in her uncreased brow. I lived
vicariously through her, watching a parallel, lighthearted universe that I
could only imagine. When I told her how justifying my love was grinding me
down, she knew whereof I spoke. During those months, Karen was a one-woman
validation machine.

            Two
weeks after the New year, Andrew and I had a weekend trip planned to Miami
Beach, where we’ve been rehearsing for our retirement for a couple of seasons.
My parents have an apartment in one of the de facto senior citizen centers for
migrating Jews. The one-room studio has sat empty for many years, since my
parents moved back to California in the mid-eighties.

            In
the first real downtime we’d had together since Andrew’s New Year’s Day phone
call with Roslyn, we sat on the beach, and Andrew catalogued a dizzying array
of physical ills. While we’re both just this side of being hypochondriacs,
Andrew had reached a new summit of somatic complaining. Usually one of us plays
a game with the other on the arrival of a new malady. “How do I feel today?”
Andrew often quizzes me. That’s my cue to guess. “You don’t feel good.” Then he
prompts me to minister to the afflicted area. If it’s a tight shoulder, he
turns and shimmies his back for a rub. If it’s a sore throat, he points to his
Adam’s apple for me to plant a kiss on it.

            This
was different. He wasn’t joking, and it seemed each piece of his body was in
revolt against the whole. From between the lines of our discussion about the
wedding, and the recent escalation in the problems within his family, I saw a
disturbing likelihood. I asked Andrew to go for a walk, so I wouldn’t have to
look at him while I shared a theory.

            “Sweetie,
I’m scared for you. You’re coming apart, and I can’t do anything about it. And
my opinion is, it’s psychosomatic. Not just some of it. All of it. Your neck,
your back, your tingling, your headaches, your stomach, your bowels, your feet,
everything. You told me when all of these started. It was in the two weeks
since your mother backed out of the wedding. In my opinion, you’re feeling
abandoned by your parents, and that’s never happened before, has it?”

            He
shook his head no.

            “It’s
like you’re in shock. You can’t comprehend they would, in effect, say-” I
reconsidered whether I needed to say the next part, but I went ahead “- that in
one basic way, they don’t accept you. You believed all this time they had. The
reality is different from what you’ve perceived since you came out to them five
years ago, and you’re having a hard time catching up with it. And that’s why I
think you’re getting so sick.”

            I
had wanted to talk, and avoid looking at Andrew as much as possible, because I
was overwhelmed with guilt. I felt responsible for his pain, as if proposal of
marriage had transformed his body into this battlefield.

ANDREW   
I’ve always hated when
Doug plays analyst, even if he’s right on the money. My somatic complaints and
preoccupations were torturing me. The only feeling I was aware of was the anger
toward my father and the shame that I felt was at the heart of his effort to
put an end to our wedding plans. The latter was supported by the aspects of the
ceremony that most troubled my father: the video and the photographer.

            “Why
do you need to spend that much money? What do you need a video for, a
photographer for?” he asked, time and again. He was always dealing with the
monetary stuff, not the feelings around it.

            Back
in December, a couple of weeks before the deposits were due, I said to him
outright, “You’re having a lot of reactions to this, and a lot of what’s
feeding your reaction is that you never dealt with the fact that I was gay. All
those feelings are coming up now, because you’re forced into dealing with it.”

            And
he tried to explain to me how he was feeling all alone, but himself, abandoned.
He was angry that we couldn’t understand what he was going through. “You and
Mommy think it’s so normal, you think there’s nothing wrong with it.” And he
trotted out his favorite line: “I’m the most conservative notary in Montreal –
I don’t want to be a pioneer.”

            So
what was it that disturbed him particularly about the idea of having a video
and the photographer? Doug and I talked about it a lot, and came up with a logical
theory: Video and photos would be a permanent record, and make this even more
than just a moment in time that could be left behind and forgotten. They would
insure the ceremony would continue to be remembered, like any other wedding.
And the mere presence of a photographer and video crew might communicate this
to guests, and suggest to them that we saw nothing so different at the core of
this experience.

            The
weekend after we returned from Florida, Doug and I had a family meeting, which
in this instance meant the two of us.

            “This
is
our
wedding. Nobody else’s,” Doug insisted. “If we want to pay for it
ourselves, we’ll handle it as we see fit.”

            “We’ll
work with everybody to try to allay with fears, but this can’t be
about
their
fears,” I said, picking up the thought. “It’s about us, and our relationship.
And as long as it’s about the money, and what my father will and won’t pay for,
it can’t be about the real issues.”

            And
Doug added, “What’s important is that your parents come because they want to,
not that they pay for it.”

            “So,
pick up the phone after I dial.”

            Doug
has always been afraid of causing any trouble with my parents, so I figured he
might back out of calling my father together, as we’d planned. And sure enough,
he backed out. “I know this is about our wedding, but isn’t it also personal,
and in a way, about issues between you and your father?”

            “Good
try, but that’s cheap psychology. You just don’t want to face up to him. And
you want me to do it by myself.”

            “I
think it would make more sense for you to do it. But if you really need me to-”

            “Never
mind. I know what I want to say.”

SHELDON,
ROSLYN, ANDREW
AND
DOUG

March-May 1996

SHELDON   
The call came from out
of the blue.

            Andrew
said to me, “Doug and I have decided we’re prepared to host this, and pay the
financial cost ourselves, because we’re looking for your emotional support,
rather than your financial support.”

            So
in effect what he was saying was, “We’re going to have it whether you like it
or not. Don’t worry whether you’re going to pay or not going to pay. But if you
see fit to come, we’ll be happier than if you don’t see fit to come.”

            It
was hurtful, especially considering that I had acknowledged in the beginning
that I was going to be there, and that there was no way I was going to be a
no-show.

            Maybe
he and Doug thought this challenge made it easier for me; in fact, it just made
me angry. Here Andrew was telling me they would pay for it. As if my concerns
were ever about the money. Instead of allowing us to discuss an alternate kind
of affair, he had cut off the communication lines on the subject.

            After
I hung up, I asked myself,
Why does he have to put me through this trial?
It’s not Abraham and Isaac, but it ranks right up there.

            It’s
a test.

            I
had been seeing Dennis for individual therapy since October. Before the New
Year, he told me he’d wanted to see Roslyn and me together, since he felt my
immediate problems regarding the wedding were really couple’s issues. Soon
after the three of us sat down together for the first time, Dennis suggested,
“Why don’t we run through the way you see the ceremony taking place. Not the
words, but who’s going to walk down the aisle, who you’re going to walk down
with, are your children going to participate…”

            Andrew
and Doug had already told us that they planned on a traditional procession,
which I was against from the outset. Like their wish to have a video, a
photographer, and a band, it seemed this would mimic a heterosexual ceremony.
Despite my objections, they were firm about this.

ROSLYN
   
Together
with Dennis and Sheldon, I attempted to visualize it all. And as I paced
through it all, step by step, I was rattled. I must have never walked through
the actual event and imagined how I’d feel along the way…
the guests are
arriving, watching them surreptitiously from some cloistered spot at the back
of the hall… the curious faces, the excitement, and the fear…
Then the
ceremony itself. As I pictured myself standing under the
chuppah
,
casting a glance on the sea of apprehensive faces, I tried to envision a
traditional ceremony…
my son, together with Doug, in front of a rabbi.
Then I skipped to the final moment.
Breaking the glass…
If it’s a Jewish
wedding, they must intend on breaking the glass…
Will they both do it? Or
just one? Which one?
And then I saw the thing I must have been avoiding
from the beginning. For surely, every wedding ends with…

           
A
kiss.

            Were
they going to actually
kiss
? My mind raced.

           
Would
Andrew stand in front of all our friends and family, and kiss another man? No…
maybe he wouldn’t want to. Maybe they’ll… Maybe…

           
Just
another irony, that in grappling with a small detail that suddenly loomed
larger than life, I’d made a breakthrough that would allow a real dialogue with
Sheldon for the first time since the engagement. He could set aside the image
I’d been projecting: the professional who isn’t fazed by anything. At last he
could see
me
.

SHELDON   
Finally,
I
thought,
I have broken through.
Once Roslyn realized she had her own
concerns, she could finally hear mine. And now we could discuss how to find a
compromise with Andrew and Doug. Something that we could live with.

ROSLYN
   
No
longer adversaries, we could talk like partners. Maybe the words I was saying
to Sheldon weren’t so very different from before. The tune was what changed.
When Sheldon said he was worried about some aspects of the ceremony, I could
relate, and he knew it. I might not agree with him on a certain point, but now
at least we were on the same team.

SHELDON   
“Though it’s true that
Andrew and Doug have a lot of heterosexual friends,” I pointed out in a session
with Roslyn and Dennis, “they also have gay friends. Are they going to be
dancing together? Will it be in a manner that might be uncomfortable for
sixty-year-olds who haven’t experienced anything like it?”

ROSLYN
   
It was
another detail I hadn’t envisioned until now. If we were going to invite all
our close friends and family, I’d have to imagine how I’d feel with them
watching every step of the way. Now that I was drawing the image of the
ceremony in my mind, I was troubled by an old expectation. My old dream came
back, my old fantasy that there would be a girl at the other end of the aisle.
I’d held on to this wish for so long, it almost seemed real. If I was ever
going to be truly at peace with the upcoming ceremony, I’d have to come to
terms with this old fantasy.

            It
was just another reminder that the pain of finding out your child is gay never
disappears completely. It dulls down, and you learn to live with it. That
doesn’t mean you don’t value your child, or that you don’t value what he or she
is doing. But it’s a reality. And ignoring it doesn’t help matters. We’ve all
been conditioned to expect something else. So it comes as a loss.

            Sheldon
raised another issue…

SHELDON   
OK, I’m stuck with
something public,
I conceded to myself.
But that doesn’t mean
we have to make a
statement.

            It
was a concern I voiced from way back, and often. I wanted assurance that this
whole affair wouldn’t become a political platform. There were going to be a
number of speeches, undoubtedly, and I didn’t want anybody to politicize the
situation, and plead that people in this situation are entitled to have
something like this.

            In
fact, there was only one concrete aspect of the ceremony Andrew and Doug had
told us about. One of Doug’s friends, Geri, was going to speak under the canopy
during the ceremony
. I understand it’s common in the United States, yet
it’s unheard-of in Montreal. Here the only people who speak under the canopy
are the clergy and the couple. So what was this friend, whom we’d never met,
going to say? I wanted to see that politics would have nothing to do with it.

            Now
that Roslyn and I were asking many of the same questions, Dennis suggested it
was time to bring in Andrew and Doug.

ANDREW   
We came in to Montreal
for four group sessions. The first time it was a two-hour session with all four
of us at once.

            Since
my father had been seeing Dennis for several months, and my mother for half
that time, out first visit was framed as if we were entering their world. I had
heard rave reviews from both parents as to Dennis’s skill and compassion as a
therapist, and anticipated the same in his dealings with Doug and me. I was
relatively calm and felt confident that whatever issues arose, Dennis would
guide us toward a reasonable, fair resolution. Doug, on the other hand, was
definitely on edge that day as we drove to the appointment to meet my parents.
In almost a frantic, frenetic way, he began to prepare both himself and me for
potentially heated debates over various details, anticipating a contentious
atmosphere. Finally I said, “Just relax! You’re driving me crazy!”

DOUG   
I went into that first meeting
with a chip on my shoulder, still angry about watching Andrew erupt in
psychosomatic illnesses. I imagined that Roslyn and Sheldon had cast these on
Andrew, like a curse.

            On
the other hand, I also knew we were taking a positive step forward, but sitting
together with a psychologist, who I presumed would be more pragmatic, and less
religiously biased in his counseling, than a rabbi. As the four of us sat down
with Dennis, we were all smiles, and you could detect the air of hope we all
breathed in together.

            So
Roslyn’s confession came as the first surprise of the session.

ROSLYN
   
I
simply told Andrew, and Doug, what I’d admitted to Sheldon and Dennis.

            “I’ve
discovered that I’m not as comfortable with certain aspects of this ceremony as
I once thought. I’m recognizing that I’ve got questions, like Sheldon does.”

DOUG   
Although she’d been calling it
a “wedding” since September, I recall Roslyn now amending her wording and
calling it a “commitment ceremony.”

ROSLYN
   
I asked
Andrew to go through the ceremony as he and Doug saw it.

ANDREW   
I resented having our
wedding ceremony scrutinized in this way for my parents’ approval. But in the
spirit of the moment, I did the best I could to outline what I envisioned the
ceremony to be.

            “It
will be just like Bonnie’s and Debbie’s processions, no different. Bonnie and
Debbie will walk down the aisle with David and Abraham. It would be cute to
have their kids walk with them, but we’ll have to wait and see what Bonnie and
Debbie decide to do. Then we’ll have close friends, Grandma-”

            Before
I could finish, my father jumped in and asked, “Why does it have to be so big?
It sounds like a typical procession. I don’t think people will respond well to
that. And what will people call them, ‘bridesmaids’?”

            Bridesmaids
again. “We’ll find something else to call them. But we really haven’t made any
final decisions about the order of events…”

DOUG   
“We’re working on it with Rabbi
Bolton. We know she’s going to sing in Hebrew…”

ANDREW   
“And we’ve asked Diane,
Maxine, and Doug’s friends Debbie and Anita to hold the
chuppah
. We’re
going to have friends come up to read the seven blessings.”

SHELDON   
“How is that going to
work?”

ANDREW   
“We haven’t figured out
the details, exactly. But we’re going to choose close friends who won’t be
under the
chuppah
to come up from the audience and read the blessings.
Rabbi Bolton will probably sing them in Hebrew first.”

DOUG   
This is progress,
I
thought.
And whatever Roslyn’s concerns are, I haven’t heard anything
insurmountable yet…

ROSLYN
   
“How
will the ceremony end?”

ANDREW   
Doug and I looked at
each other for a second, both wondering what she meant exactly. I took a stab:
“We’ll step on the glass.”

SHELDON   
This much we
anticipated. It’s the way every Jewish wedding ends. Some say crushing the
glass symbolized the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. Comedians will
tell you that when the groom breaks the glass, it’s to symbolize that’s the
last time he’s going to put his foot down.

ROSLYN
   
I hoped
that breaking the glass was the last tradition they planned on incorporating.

            “And
then what?” I prodded.

DOUG   
I wasn’t sure where this was
going, so I offered: “We’ll walk back down the aisle.”

ROSLYN
   
“Go
back a second. After you step on the glass, were you planning on what you would
do? At the point where the rabbi usually says you may kiss the bride?”

ANDREW   
Doug’s eyes locked on
mine. I asked my mother, “What do you mean?”

ROSLYN
   
“Your
father and I were wondering if you were planning on kissing. Because we’d
rather you didn’t. Believe me, I was surprised when I realized it, but the fact
is that when I mulled it over, I came to the conclusion that I’m not
comfortable with it.”