Page 186 of Levi

Benji planned his wedding down to the minute, and then threw the plan in the Gulf.

What’s on this deck tonight is the pieces he wants to keep. The ceremony still goes on at sunset, because Benji will surrender a great deal to comfort but never the light.

Everything else is simpler. Chairs off the Roadhouse floor, none of them matching. The Christmas lights burning overhead the way they burn all year, with additional strands Stormy hung. The buffet’s already laid out and covered. Down the middle of every table, magnolias in mason jars, blooms the size of hubcaps. And off the far end of the deck, the new ramp runs down to the sand. Cedar, wide enough for two, wrapped in lights the whole way. The one piece of the big wedding that was never decoration.

The men came the way Benji invited them to. Clean white shirts, jeans. Benji checked every shirt at the door an hour ago. The women are in flowing white sundresses.

I’m standing beside him at the front with two rings in my jacket pocket. Black tux, collar open, no tie. The open collar is the one comfort Benji allowed me. I’ve checked my pocket four times.

Benji’s in the white tux. Blue silk shirt, the silver chain Mickey requested he wear. Benji told everyone to come comfortable and then put himself in the most fitted thing on the deck. No one who knows him is surprised.

Sheila is in the front row with a folded dish towel in her lap. The moment the ceremony is over, she’ll be working the food line. The seat beside her is empty and held for Levi. He’s down at the end of the deck with his guitar. Stormy stands at the back of the deck, positioned and waiting for Mickey.

Then Levi starts to sing.

Just him and the guitar. No band. No quartet. The deck goes quiet around the sound of it. The doors open and Mickey comes through them with Stormy following close behind him.

That’s the picture everyone came braced for. Mickey rolling down the deck to get married. Benji already has a hand pressed to his mouth, trying not to cry.

Mickey stops the chair at the end of the deck. Stormy reaches around and comes up with a cane hidden behind the railing. He hands it to Mickey, takes the handles and holds the wheelchair steady.

Mickey puts his full weight on the cane and pushes himself up and out of the chair.

He’s standing.

Black tux, per Benji’s decree, and a pocket square in the exact blue of Benji’s shirt. Mickey never once argued about the tux, which should have told Benji something. A man doesn’t surrender a wardrobe fight for nothing. He was saving the win for this moment.

Benji makes a sound, and both hands go over his mouth, and he sobs through his fingers while the man who took a bullet for him walks to become his husband. I wrap my arm around Benji’s shoulder to steady him.

Mickey takes the first step. His shoulder dips on the left side. His knuckles are white around the grip. His jaw is set the way it sets when he’s working a case, the cop face, holding the rest of him together. It slips into a mischievous grin when he looks at Benji. Stormy follows three feet behind with the empty chair, keeping the distance exact.

Everyone holds their breath. It takes Mickey a long time to walk the deck. We would have all stood until morning.

He makes it and Benji reaches for him. Mickey takes one hand and stays on his feet, unsteady, upright, grinning like he got away with a big secret.

I have no idea how he managed to hide from Benji that he can take a few steps now. Mickey said from the beginning he wanted to walk down the aisle to marry Benji and he did it.

I’m crying too, tears running down my face.

Levi’s song ends. He sets the guitar down and comes up the deck and takes the seat beside Sheila.

Tex steps up to marry them, and Tex is crying openly too. He’s in a clean white shirt. It was the only thing Benji asked of him. He made it all the way to the front without a drop on him.

Tex looks out at the crowd. Everyone is braced to laugh, because Tex is doing the ceremony and they’ve all met Tex.

He pulls two note cards from his shirt pocket and holds them up.

“Two cards,” he says. “This first one is the ceremony. Benji approved this card personally. There were four rounds of revisions and I lost every round. This second card is mine. Benji hasn’t seen it. We’ll get to it.” He tucks it back in the pocket, over his chest.

“Mickey has already informed me, and I’m quoting him directly, ‘If you talk for thirty minutes, I’m leaving my own ceremony.’ So, we’re doing the short version.” He clears his throat. “The short version is still long. It’s me. And Benji, I’m sorry, I’m not doing your version. You should’ve known I wouldn’t.”

Then he puts the Benji-approved card in his pocket too, and his voice changes.

“The darkest night of my life happened thirty feet from where I’m standing. I’m not going to tell that story today. Most of you were there, or you came running after to help. I’ll just say I was ten feet away when it happened, and I’ve never in my life felt further away from anybody.”

The deck goes silent.

Mickey hasn’t moved. He’s gone deputy-still, the old posture, the one from the hospital. The only thing moving is Benji’s thumb across the back of his hand, keeping him steady.