Rio squeezed my hand; I squeezed back. Our anxiety over the right words to say at that moment had been consuming us for the last half of the dinner, the way the last half of my overpriced macaroni and cheese remained uneaten in front of me.
It was the first time he had ever met my little brother, and the third time he had spent any time with my dad. My brother and him had seemed to click earlier over a common interest of juggling, and my dad brought up a story of magic tricks from my childhood that I had attempted to use as an introduction to our own story earlier that week. He said he had something to announce to my dad, his voice quivering, his hand firmly holding on to my own.
“I wanted to ask you…”
I had thought, for a second, he was asking permission, and feared a negative reaction. I interrupted him: “just say it!”
He was confused, as were my brother and dad. I felt bad, seeing how difficult it was for him to get as far as he had, our own shared fears inducing the desire for secrecy, and encouraged him to go on. He stumbled on his words, but quickly regained composure.
“I asked Beth to marry me, and she said ‘yes’. I wanted to ask for your blessing.”
My dad, was slightly surprised: “she did?”
There was a slight lull of quiet confusion, and my brother, as if to prompt my dad’s own appropriate response, said “congratulations”. My dad said Rio met his base expectations for a husband, and as part of the father role, asked Rio about his ability to provide.
I couldn’t help but think about our third date. We had walked up to the top of Church St. where Rio found a couch and asked if I wanted to sit down. He had joked at the time, “see, baby? I’m a provider!” Now, he was serious as he answered my dad’s questions.
My dad told him he met his qualifications for a husband, and gave us the blessing we had requested. We could finally exhale.
My brother had said he wasn’t shocked, in fact he already knew, and almost said something about it to my dad earlier. It was obvious to him, just as it was to Blake when he put his trademark skepticism aside to tell me that he had “a good feeling about this one” a month earlier.
My dad asked about plans of children, which Rio took as a sign that my father thought our wedding plans were a result of an unplanned pregnancy. “Nothing is in the pipeline now”, he answered quickly, as I said “one day, but when we do, it will be because it was planned, and not a mistake”. My dad said, just as I had predicted and warned Rio of, “I just want some biological grandchildren of my own!”
We walked along 4th st, and descended the stairs into the BART station. My brother and dad were going one way, and we were going the other. Their train arrived shortly after I gave brief details of our engagement and wedding, and they were gone.
Rio and I felt nearly light-headed after the weight of our heavy anxiety regarding the unknown outcome was lifted, and cuddled on BART as we talked. It seemed even more real… we were getting married.
We got home, and sat on the steps to smoke. We stared in each others eyes, and suddenly it hit me: I wasn’t just seeing the future. I was seeing my past and present too. I was seeing what John and Blake had seen, what I had witnessed between my father and Gail the first time I met her. Not just love. Life.