White lies.

Part 14

Epilogue. Chapter 14. Kim.

You are beautiful at your wedding.

Your parents aren't there, having disregarded and disowned you as a daughter long ago.

I know you hurt whenever you look at those empty chairs you insisted on leaving for them, but in all you look radiant.

Beautiful.

You shine from inside out and I can't express in words how happy that makes me.

You cry in the dressing room, pretty, pretty, glistening tears falling down your cheek.

And when you catch one on your fingertip and stare at it in wonder, I know those are happy tears.

And I cry, too.

You step up to the stage and the microphone shatters the silence with a earsplitting shriek.

Guests laugh, and you do too, eyes shining.

"I have a speech to make." Guests cheer.

You take the microphone and you start off unexpectedly.

"My speech is dedicated to three people. To my parents, to Kim, and to the beautiful lady waiting back there."

You take a deep breath.

"My parents are homophobic people."

Some gasp, and other nod in confirmation of this fact. Your eyes are on the empty seats when you speak again.

"When I came out, I remember them saying, 'I'll have preferred a brainless slut to a...wrong daughter.' To a messed up daughter. To a daughter who liked people of the same gender.

"I don't know how long I spent crying into my pillow, turning those words over and over again until I've stripped every other meaning away.

"They'd had preferred a daughter who couldn't think for herself, a daughter who slept with lots of people to me. And they had degraded women who do such things.

"I think that was when I finally realised that they would never want me."

You pause, look out into the infinite sea of faces. Some are swiping at their cheeks, some fists clenched at their sides, but through it all your gaze is fixed on the empty seats.

You don't look at me. You don't look at anyone.

You just stare at the empty seats.

"In high school I was the queen bee. And there were always requirements to be the queen bee. Be skinner, be prettier, be sluttier, be more beautiful. And I always felt like I had to meet those requirements."

You look at me straight in the eye.

"But then Kim came into my life."

I smile widely.

"She showed me there's more than that to a person. Not only is she my rock, my best friend, but more than any of those--"

Your fingers tighten at your sides and I know I'll be the only one to notice that out of everyone here.

"She is my teacher. She taught me it's what inside that matters. And I know it sounds so cliché but Kim taught me how to live.

"She taught me how to pretty myself up, she taught me how to deal with everyone who told me I wasn't skinny enough, fair enough, never good enough.

"She taught me how to be a beautiful person. And she showed me that too."

Your eyes sparkle.

"Kim?" I look up at you. "Thank you." You say, and those are words I'll keep with me forever.

Most of the mothers in the audience are crying now. I can tell by the way one sniffles from the row behind me, loud and unashamed, and the sobs echoing.

You don't cry.

I don't cry.

Your gaze is piercing, the way it's been for oh so many years. Then you smile, and turn to the microphone again.

"Next, the person I am going to talk about is one I'm sure all of you know--be it from me, or maybe as a relative, or maybe even as the shining star of this show. And I know a lot of you disapprove of this marriage.

"So today I will tell you our story. It's a short one, though, no dirty details for you!"

Someone calls out "aww," from the back row, unembarrassed and loud. 

I relax into my seat, close my eyes, allow your voice to wash over me like the ocean.

"I met my beautiful girl in college. At a party, would you believe that?

"It was a bad time for me. My parents had rejected me, Kim was in another college far, far away, and I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating there, in that tiny room, with the smell of cigarette smoke and drugs and--"

You pause for a deep, long breath, and I can almost see the audience leaning forward in their seats in anticipation.

"It felt so wrong. And I just wanted to get out of there. I didn't care how or why or anything but I was just ready to bolt. And then she came into the room." You smile. "And just like that, I could breathe again."

"That's the moment I realised she was the one." You tilt your head back, smile kind of absentmindedly. "And as they say, the rest is history."

There's this muffled shriek from behind you and you turn around and your eyes light up.

She's crying. Her tears roll down her cheeks like diamonds and I cannot stop staring.

You wipe away one of her tears, and takes up the microphone.

"You made me feel beautiful."

She makes a kind of choked sound in the back of her throat and then she's hugging you like there's no tomorrow, laughing and crying and wheezing like it hurts to breathe.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you look beautifully, breathtakingly happy.

"I love you," you say, and then you kiss her.

The guests rise as one, clapping, hollering, and I stand and clap along.

You deserve this.

You deserve to be happy.

And you kiss her like the nerd kisses your ex-boyfriend. Furious and passionate and so utterly, deeply in love it kind of hurts to watch.

All of a sudden I think of you in high school. You with your shiny locks and pretty lips and those short skirts and the first time you called me your friend.

The memories are flashing and I can't stop them.

We become friends. We paint our nails together and watch sad movies and cry and laugh together. You're older. You tell me you're in love with the nerd. I tell you that's okay, regardless I'll love you. You cry.

You tell me you're tired of pretending to be someone you're not.

I look up at you right then, and silently I ask you the same question. Is this who you are?

You never will hear my question, but I don't need your answer.

I can see it in your eyes, on your lips, in the way your hand curls around her waist, in the way her eyes hold adoration when she looks at you.

The answer is an overwhelming chorus.

Yes.