"The wedding is tomorrow at three," I said. "We don't have that many guests, only sixty..."
I stopped in mid-word. Something flickered on the woman's face. Had I said something wrong? Had Nate and Ruby moved on from the labyrinth to somehow destroying the church itself? I glanced behind me, but they didn't seem to be doing any more damage than before.
I turned back to her. "What's wrong?" I said. I didn't dare look at Kevin.
"This weekend?" she said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was this weekend."
"What's wrong with this weekend?" I said.
She hemmed and hawed. "It's nothing, really. I mean, so what if there are bats in the bell tower? They've been there for months. They're an important part of the island ecosystem! I don't understand what the big deal is — it's not like they can get inside the church."
"You literally have bats in your belfry?" Min said.
"Technically, rabid bats. Or rabid bat. There's only been one so far, at least that we know of."
We all instinctively glanced up at the tower to the church — and sort of recoiled. Rabid bats were a huge deal. Did this woman really not know that?
"What are they going to do, kill all the bats on the whole island?" the woman was saying. "Anyway, the bat removal guys won't be out on the island again until Monday."
"Is there another church on the island that you think would help us?" Kevin asked.
"Of course! The Unitarians for sure. They use the community church."
Kevin and I both froze, unsure how to react or exactly what to feel.
"There's just one problem," the woman said. "Since our church is closed, the Community Church is where we've moved all our activities tomorrow afternoon."
* * *
Kevin was back to looking pretty gloomy, and I didn't want him taking us all down in his own car-crash suicide, so I decided to handle the driving from that point on.
"It's going to be okay," I said. "We'll find a place. We've got plenty of time."
"Why couldn't we have the wedding on a beach somewhere?" Nate asked.
"Old people," I said. "We need bathrooms." Both Kevin and I had elderly relatives coming to the wedding. "Plus, what if it rains?"
At that, I glanced out the window to one side. Unfortunately, it did look like it was starting to cloud up.
But that's when my eyes fell upon a public park.
"Stop the car!" I said, even though I was the one driving.
* * *
"A park?" Kevin said. "You want to have our wedding in a park?"
"Well, it's not my first choice," I said, "but there are bathrooms. And there's a covered area if it rains." I looked at Kevin and smiled. "Hey, our relationship began in a picnic shelter, right? The stinky picnic gazebo?"
He sort of nodded while all six of us took it all in. The picnic shelter was surprisingly large — so big it might even fit sixty-seven guests. As for the location, it was right on the water, with a view looking down into a quiet little bay. It was actually kinda sorta spectacular.
But I didn't want to get my hopes up again just yet.
We walked deeper into the park, examining it like furniture in a showroom.
We entered the picnic shelter.
"Electrical outlets," Ruby said, pointing. "For, like, the caterer? And I bet we could buy some simple space heaters at the hardware store."
"We could get some nice decorations too," Min said.
"What if someone's already using it?" Kevin said.
"In September?" Nate said.
"Min and I can come here early and stake it out," Ruby said.
Then Min said, "There's a problem."
I stepped closer. She was pointing to a sign that said, This area is available for reservation. Parties of fifteen or more must register with the Vashon Parks Department. And it gave a phone number and an address.
I tried the phone number, but nobody was answering.
"It's a Saturday," Kevin said. "They're probably closed."
"Maybe so," I said, "but let's go stop by the office just in case."
* * *
The office of the Vashon Parks Department was in this little office park on the outskirts of the town of Vashon. It was two stories, only five businesses total — lawyers and accountants, that type of thing. There were cars in the parking lot, which I took to be a good sign, but all the blinds were down, so it didn't look like anything was open.
A woman stepped out of one of the offices on the second floor, onto a wooden deck. She was locking up.
"There!" Kevin said. "I bet that's it!" Sure enough, by this point, I could see the words painted on the window: Vashon Parks Department.
I slammed on the brakes, parking the car haphazardly in a stall, and Kevin, Min, Otto, and I ran for the stairs, meeting the woman halfway down.
"Thank God we caught you!" I said. Somehow I was out of breath, even though I'd only run about twenty feet from the car. I guess it was all the excitement of getting there in time.
She stopped on the stairs, peering down at us like a cat we'd just woken from its nap.
"We're getting married tomorrow," I said quickly, "but there's a problem with the place we rented. We desperately need a new location, so we wanted to reserve the picnic shelter at Jensen Point."
She kept staring at us. If she was still a cat, she might have started licking herself — completely indifferent. Up close, I got a better look at her now. She was younger than most of the other people we'd met on the island, in her twenties, and blond and wearing make-up, but somehow drabber than everyone else. Or maybe it was only the fact that the sun had clouded over by now.
"Or any park," Kevin said. "Anywhere at all, really."
She stared at us a second longer, licking her imaginary paws.
Then she said, "The office is closed. I just locked up."
We looked at her, then up at the office again. There couldn't have been more than ten feet between them. The set of keys that she'd used to lock the door was still dangling in her hand.
On the other hand, her knuckles were white, like she was squeezing those keys tightly.
"Well," Min said, "do you think you could maybe unlock it again for us?"
All four of us smiled oh-so-sweetly.
"Unfortunately, the office closes at noon on Saturdays," the woman said.
I couldn't help glancing down at my phone. It read 12:02 p.m.
She started down the stairs again. We had no choice but to step to one side to let her pass, not without being, like, abusive jerks.
"But..." I started to say. What about the Vashon Groove? That's what I almost said, but I couldn't figure out if it would help or hurt our cause.
She didn't stop, just sauntered for her car.
"Please!" I said. "We're desperate!"
She didn't even hesitate. She opened the door to her car and slid inside. She hadn't unlocked it with a key or a beeper or anything. I guess that was another part of living on an island: no one bothered with locks. But at least she hadn't closed the door yet.
"Well, is it okay if we use the park without a permit?" I asked. "We only have thirty guests." Yes, I was lying a bit.
If she was a cat, now I was the mouse. "Do it and you're looking at a thousand-dollar fine," she said. "And don't think they don't patrol the parks on Sundays, because they do!"
"But what about the Vashon Groove?" I blurted. At this point, what did I have to lose?
Naturally, she slammed her car door in my face.
CHAPTER SIX
Back in the car, Kevin did a pretty good imitation of the dead orca: he was saggy and lifeless, like another mound of wet towels sitting in the seat next to me.
I felt bad too, but with Kevin so down, I wanted to go on being the non-freaked-out one — the supportive boyfriend who keeps saying that everything will work out in the end.
"Maybe we could do it at my parents' house," I said. "The wedding, I mean."
"Back on the mainland?" Kevin said.
"Well, yea
h," I said, even as I was thinking: What would my mom think of that? She'd never been supportive of my being gay, and like I said about churches, who wants to hold a wedding in a place where you're sort of grudgingly tolerated? It also wasn't a very big house. Would it even fit that many people? Kevin's parents' house was even smaller.
Still, what was the alternative? Cancel the wedding? I already mentioned how the ceremony itself was kind of a formality. All we really needed was for Min to sign a piece of paper, and then we'd be married. But what about what Kevin had said the night before about how a wedding was a chance for a couple to tell their friends how much they loved each other? If we didn't have an actual ceremony, would anyone take us seriously?
Kevin didn't answer, just turned and stared out the window again.
* * *
When we got home, we all climbed out of the car and headed for the house. But while the others disappeared inside, I lingered outside with Kevin.
"What do you want to do?" I asked him.
"You mean should we cancel?" he said.
I nodded. "It's early enough that we could send out an email."
Kevin sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"
"I know, I know. Look, I really think we should make a decision."
"No, seriously." Kevin looked at me. "Smell the air."
I took a whiff, but I didn't smell anything.
I looked at Kevin quizzically. Then I let myself feel the tiniest smidgen of hope.
We entered the house. Everyone was out on the deck, clustered at the edge of it, looking down on the beach. The door to the outside was open, but I still couldn't smell any dead whale.
We joined our friends on the deck.
Yup, still no dead whale smell.
I looked back at Kevin, who looked confused, but more hopeful than ever.
Our friends were turning to us — Min, Otto, Nate, and Ruby — smiles plastered on their faces.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"It's gone," said Min.
"The whale?"
Everyone nodded, even as they smirked.
Kevin and I hurried to the edge of the deck, scanning the beach below us. There was an indention in the rocks and sand, a big one, but no orca.
"Was it the tide?" Kevin asked. It had definitely come in a bit.
But no one seemed to know.
Behind us, Vernie stepped out onto the porch. "You're back," she said. "How did it go?"
"Vernie!" I said. "What happened to the whale?"
"Whale?"
"It's gone!"
"It is? That's wonderful! I didn't see, I was in taking a nap."
Gunnar appeared next to Vernie on the deck. He was carrying a shoebox full of shelf fungus that he'd apparently collected in the woods outside the house.
"Did you know that before 1969, fungi were considered part of the plant kingdom?" he said. "Now, of course, they're considered their own kingdom, because they're completely different from plants. In a lot of ways, they're actually more like animals, absorbing their food using digestive enzymes."
I was immediately suspicious.
"Gunnar," I said, "what happened to the whale on the beach?"
He looked confused, but only for a second. "Oh, I got rid of it." He glanced at Min. "And don't worry, I did move it farther down the beach, to a place where there aren't any houses, so it wouldn't bother anyone."
"But...how?" she said.
It wasn't often that I saw Min speechless, but I couldn't really appreciate it, because I was speechless too. We all were. We'd seen the orca — we'd touched it. We'd all been convinced it was impossible to move.
Gunnar offered us an indifferent shrug. "Don't worry about it. It's all taken care of, and everything is okay. Think of it as my wedding gift to you guys. I wanted to make sure the ceremony went off okay."
With that, he turned and went inside to categorize his fungi.
* * *
I knew it was pointless to try and get Gunnar to tell us how he'd moved the whale. He acted like he was indifferent about the whole thing, but I think some part of him was enjoying our confusion. Back in school, he'd been teased and bullied a lot for being different. Since then, he'd decided to own his weirdness, and I think he'd also come to enjoy confounding people. He'd sort of made it his personal brand.
A few minutes later, I found Kevin in our bedroom sitting on the bed.
I closed the door behind me. "You okay?" I said.
"I'm sorry I freaked out back there," he said. "I actually thought we might have to cancel the wedding."
I sat down next to him. "Can I just say how glad I am that for the first time in our relationship, you're being the neurotic one? Is this like with Gunnar — your wedding gift to me?"
Kevin didn't smile. He was seriously upset about this.
I scooted closer so our hips were purposely touching. We'd turned the heat off in the bedroom when we left that morning, and now I could feel the warmth of his body.
"You didn't freak out," I said. "Or if you did, it was a good thing. It makes me happy that you're taking our wedding so seriously. But here's why I didn't freak out. The wedding itself doesn't matter. I love you, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you. And I don't need a piece of paper, or a ceremony, or anything at all to know that."
"I know. I feel the same way. But..."
"What?" He didn't answer, so I said, "Come on, tell me."
"I don't know why I want us to have an actual wedding, or why I want it to be perfect, but I do." He thought for a second. "Do you remember that story Gunnar told about my introducing myself to the class back in the seventh grade?"
I nodded.
"I was telling the truth when I said it was all an act," he said. "I was terrified."
"I bet. Joining a new school in the middle of the year? I wouldn't wish that on my enemy." I'd always hated it when adults mocked kids' problems. Years later, I still remembered exactly how difficult the seventh grade was, and whenever adults made fun of that, it always seemed to me to be yet another kind of cruelty.
"But it all worked out," I said. "No one knew you were nervous, and you went on to be the most popular kid in class."
"It didn't work out. It was a disaster."
I looked at him.
"Sure, I was popular," he said, "but only because I lied about who I was. I played sports and told jokes and flirted with all the girls, including the teachers. But I was a gay kid with a crush on Mr. Johnson, and an eye on the cute redheaded boy over by the window." This made me smile, because I had sat by the window in the seventh grade. Kevin hadn't been lying the night before when he said he noticed me. "I was terrified that someone would figure it out. I don't think I ever relaxed the whole time I was in school, not until I finally talked to you in the park that night all those years later."
I nodded again. Kevin made a good point: just because something looks perfect, that doesn't mean it is.
"Our wedding isn't the same thing," I said.
"I know. But these last few years have been so crazy. First, I break up with Colin. Then my career goes completely to shit."
I couldn't help feeling guilty about this. Kevin had broken up with Colin because of me (long story). His career had gone to shit because of me too — because I'd wanted to move to Los Angeles to pursue my dream of screenwriting.
Kevin saw on my face what I was thinking.
"None of it is your fault," he said. "I don't regret any of it, not at all. If I had to do it over again, I wouldn't change a thing."
Except for the way it ended with Colin, I thought. I knew Kevin was thinking this too. Neither of us had acted very nobly there.
"But sometimes it sort of feels like my life has spun out of my control," Kevin said, "like the things that happen aren't ever what I expect them to be. So then came this wedding, and I thought, 'Finally! Something I can control.'"
"You know they literally say that's not true about weddings, right? That you can plan them, but you can't control them. Tha
t to enjoy them, you have to sort of let them go."
"I know! All this is stupid, I know that."
"It's not stupid. It makes sense. In fact, I know exactly what you're talking about. I had an image of this weekend too."
Kevin looked at me.
"You know how I wanted our good friends here all weekend?" I said. "I guess I thought they'd come, and they'd all be these adoring little puppies, perfectly arranged for us to pet and coo over. It didn't occur to me that they all have their own lives, their own things going on, their own concerns."
And Kevin too, I thought. I hadn't expected him to be so distracted this weekend.
"But maybe it's better this way," I went on. "We're spending the weekend with real people, not fantasies. The truth is, we don't know what's going to happen. But I stand by what I said before: in the end, I think it'll all work out."
Kevin kept looking at me, but now his eyes were like windows with no curtains or blinds. I could see far enough inside to tell that he was impressed.
"Have I mentioned how much I like you?" he said.
"You have. But not lately."
"I like you."
"How much on a scale of one to ten?"
"Fifty zillion."
I considered this for a second. "I guess that'll do."
* * *
Later, Ruby found some kayaks and wetsuits — Puget Sound was too cold to swim in without a wetsuit even in summer, much less autumn. I wasn't sure where Ruby had found the equipment. Out in the garage? I didn't remember Christie saying anything about any kayaks, but if they hadn't been locked up, I had to assume they were okay to use. Ruby invited everyone back down to the beach to give them a go, which did sound fun. Plus, I wanted to check and make sure the whale hadn't somehow floated back.