Rhythm

by

John Terry Moore
 

CHAPTER 32

It had grown from a small affair with just the Eight and their families attending, plus a few other close friends, to in excess of one hundred and fifty people.  The new Benson-Church chapel was comfortably full; everyone relaxed and looking forward to a long overdue celebration for two very popular people.  There were some mandatory guest list inclusions; Richard’s support group during his illness were all there, as were all his workmates, including Sam Covington.  And of course, the ICHP directors, staff and amazingly, many of the ICHP agents from overseas, whom Peter had appointed.  And parents were there; particularly those who had been involved in the university group supporting Adam and Patrick in the 2020 Olympics.  And now their grandchildren had begun to arrive.  In the new chapel named after them, Adam and Patrick were trying unsuccessfully to restrain Billy and Tommy, and had given up, shrugging their shoulders and knowing everyone, including the guests of honour would understand.  They were naughty, boisterous but loveable little kids who, like any children, had changed their parents’ lives forever.  There was no doubt who the biological father was; Patrick had said that ‘it was like having three Adams in the same room;’ ----- all with sandy hair, green eyes, silly grins and bloody freckles! 

Fortunately, there was a support group led by Maurie and Mary who spent so much time with them that they were very advanced, articulate little people.  An amazing start to a family; twins being the last thing their surrogate or they had expected!  They were fortunate, Patrick realised, that both Benson-Church Consolidated and the farm had been so successful that they could well afford the huge financial impost of surrogacy and children.  Even with the latest news, they would still manage well.  The obstetrician had said something like a ten million chance to one of two sets of twins from the same surrogate, with Patrick the biological father this time around.  He and Adam, together with Julie, their surrogate, were the only people who knew at this stage.  Then this morning, on his wedding day, Peter quietly let them know he was also in the loop!  But he had more detailed knowledge; ----- the babies were extraordinarily healthy, as was Julie, and they were both female!  Adam and Patrick couldn’t believe it!  Patrick would have his perfect family in two sets of twins! 

*****

Adam and Patrick had made a special effort to impress upon their sons to be quiet once they were inside the chapel.  Lance and Angelo similarly had their hands full, but their kids were a little older and more subdued.  Adopted as babies at the same time, they came from different families, but from the same orphanage in Cape Town, South Africa.  Both families had been decimated by the HIV virus, and despite major intervention by the local authorities, there was no way the children could be parented successfully with the illness being underscored by drug and alcohol dependency.  Baruti was the eldest; he had long limbs already, probably of Zulu background and would be tall, like Lance.  And Naledi the girl, was of mixed race; with an Italian father!  So, as is often the case with many adopted kids, they would no doubt end up looking so like their adoptive parents! 

As babies, Angelo had a playpen set up in the pharmacy, so he could keep working and watch the kids at the same time.  So in those first few critical months, their awareness as children was totally enhanced by their socialisation with pharmacy customers, young and old, and they thrived!  As did their customers!  Their pharmacy, besides being a drop-in place for university students, and a haven for kids with all manner of problems, also had a huge senior age clientele.  Reticent at first, the pensioners were quickly won over by the two lovely young men who were just so kind and thoughtful.  And when their children arrived, there was a certain fascination that two boys could work so well together as pharmacists, and were willing to share their family with them. 

Mrs. Browning was a case in point.  In her mid-seventies, she was paying the price for being a heavy smoker for much of her life.  She suffered from emphysema which was made worse because she just sat at home, with few friends and only the television for company.  When Baruti and Naledi arrived, she would often arrive at the pharmacy around mid-morning and not leave until late afternoon!  She helped feed and change the children, sang them to sleep and would put them down for their afternoon nap!  They were good kids; Baruti sat on Lance’s knee, arms draped around him whilst Naledi cuddled into Angelo, sucking her thumb.  Across the aisle, Darcy and Jacob sat; and much to everyone’s amusement, even their first child really hadn’t upset the status quo!  Jacob sat on the aisle, with one hand on the pram, gently rocking their three-month-old daughter, Ingrid.  But his head was still firmly in his favourite spot, on Darcy’s shoulder!  Holding hands, eyes closed, quietly talking to each other!  “Just look at the two straight boys, they haven’t changed,” whispered Patrick.  “Aren’t they beautiful?” 

Jack and Leticia Sullivan were there, as were Max and Iris Kaplan, now in their early seventies.  Behind them sat Matthew and Philippe; together with Jon and Susan.  Henri and Claudette, Philippe’s parents were also there, as were Jim and Helen Drummond, Matthew’s parents.  Jon’s boyfriend sat beside him.  Luke was a stunning example of young Australian manhood; not so much for his physical self, which was awe inspiring enough, but his apparent maturity when he actually opened his mouth to speak!  They had been boyfriends for around five years; a case of history repeating itself, because they were both oarsmen in the current University Eight!  Matthew and Philippe had supported them throughout their relationship which had progressed to a partnership.  They’d had a rough patch; couldn’t agree on anything, and separated ----- for three weeks!  Matthew and Philippe couldn’t stand the sighing and morose behaviour, and were at their wits’ end when Susie stepped in, tricked the love birds into a meeting at the family home and locked them in Jon’s bedroom! 

“Try that for déjà vu!” she shrieked through the firmly locked door.  “Get your bloody act together you two, we can’t stand it anymore.”  

Matthew and Philippe remembered, smiling, their start as a couple under similar circumstances with two very determined children, one of them Jon!  Now the tables were turned and the result was just as satisfying.  Luke hadn’t slept properly for three weeks and his parents were nearly tearing their hair out.  Jon had spent most of the same period in tears.  When Susie reopened the door an hour later, they were fast asleep in each other’s arms, a picture of post-coital bliss.  Matthew and Philippe had moved house a few years previously; into an old Victorian clinker brick house with a huge garden.  There was a dilapidated but soundly built shed in the garden which Luke and Jon had asked if they could convert into their living quarters!  So it had turned out that the reason for their disagreement was the fact that Jon loved being around Matthew and Philippe so much, he couldn’t bear to leave home! 

“Game set and match!” Susie had said triumphantly.  “Bet they’ll be married within the year.  We’ll have to get a bigger house!” 

Gerry Hansen and Wayne were there; now proud grandparents, together with Bronwyn, her husband Greg, and their baby son, Noah.  Gerry was in the process of ‘learning the ropes’; working closely with the Dean as the university’s next Vice Chancellor.  Margaret Reeve had persuaded the Board of Governors that Gerry was the right person to continue her work; that academic qualifications alone were not enough in this much changed world of commercial reality.  She knew Gerry was a brilliant administrator and that her work would continue.  Importantly, the Board had agreed that the positioning of the university was correct; and that to change such fundamentals would endanger enrolments and eventually income. 

Always a great observer, Margaret had watched Gerry mature over the years, particularly since he and Wayne had become a couple.  His development had accelerated at that time; Wayne understanding that it was Gerry’s turn to be supported, loved and cared for in the same manner that he had so unselfishly cared for he and Bronwyn.  Gerry’s confidence had grown; and so did his negotiating ability, his intuition, and general management skills.  In the final eighteen months of Margaret Reeve’s tenure, she deliberately let go of the reins and allowed Gerry to ‘steer’ the university.  Gerry felt himself becoming a male version of the Dean, and he loved it!  Undergraduates would often see the Vice Chancellor Elect going off to work quite early in the mornings, hand-in-hand with the Chief Maintenance Officer, as Wayne had become. 

“What a lovely example,” Margaret had said and Viktor agreed.  And Viktor having been her ‘sounding board’ for nearly forty years, Margaret knew her choice of successor had been blessed with the ultimate authority! 

*****

But today the Dean was in her element; enjoying having ‘her boys’, their parents, some grandparents and now their children, in yet another gathering.  There had been days when she had been in deep despair; where she knew Richard’s life hung in the balance and she may be called upon to attend a funeral, let alone a wonderfully happy wedding as was today’s event.  Because she knew full well that there were two factors in his recovery; the support group of family and friends, and the love affair that was Richard and Peter.  She hadn’t concerned herself about the wedding itself; she knew that would follow the rekindling of their partnership just like day follows night.  But the afternoon they left for the coast for the long weekend was etched in her mind. 

Thoughtfully, as usual, Peter had phoned her because he understood how much she cared.  She had left the office immediately, walked home at a brisk pace, thrown open the front door, yelling out to Viktor that they had something to celebrate, and to meet her in their well-stocked bar.  After downing a neat Ballantine’s on ice, she burst into tears, surprising herself, but not Viktor with the depth of her feelings for her ‘family.’ 

“Six down, two to go!” she had said.  She kept Peter’s confidence with the exception of one phone call ----- to Michael Mitchell.  She knew she could trust him to keep quiet, pointing out that Peter’s parents hadn’t yet been told.  But the pair of them had been through so much together, she thought, and he deserved to know the happy news.  He was one person she would miss when she finally retired.  She looked back over her shoulder and winked at Michael, sitting with Marion, looking so pleased with himself, ‘as he should,’ she thought.  Jared Henry and Martin sat next to Viktor, and as if on cue, Maurie Chapman slid into the seat next to her, kissing her on the cheek. 

“My dear,” Maurie said, “we’ll simply have to stop meeting like this.  Last wedding was Darcy and Jacob’s and that was years ago, now.” 

“Maurie darling, how are you and how’s the paediatric miracle worker, the twins a bit of a handful I hear?” she teased. 

“My deaaah,” said Maurie in his most theatrical voice.  “I think I’ve got PND, not their bloody parents!  Christ I’m so tired, the worry lines are so bad I’m having to go heavily veiled at all times.” 

“How very Islamic, Maurie,” said the Dean in a loud whisper.  There was a loud snort from beside Viktor as Jared and Martin tuned into the conversation.  She introduced them to Maurie and explained Jared’s vital part in Richard’s recovery.  “Oh thank you boys,” said Maurie, suddenly serious.  “You are heroes, no doubt about it.” 

“Yes, you too, Martin,” Maurie said, obviously well informed.  “Both of you are great contributors.  There’s no doubt that the quality of Richard’s recovery can be traced back to your efforts.  Very unselfish of you.  But I think because you worked together on this, you’ve made your own partnership stronger, am I correct?” 

They nodded vigorously, amazed that someone could read them so accurately.  The Dean held her old friend’s hand.  They had been great mates even before Adam and Patrick became a couple; drawn to a common cause, a few drinks and many, many laughs.  She looked fondly around the room; if this were a local Australian wedding, half the guests would be in thongs, shorts and T-shirts, sipping on a stubby, smoking their cigarettes, even a discreet joint or two.  But with her ‘babies,’ their families and friends, the difference was astonishing.  They dressed beautifully because there was at least one member of every partnership who had a sense of style.  ‘They were even old-fashioned,’ she thought to herself.  They tended to wear what suited them, like Adam and Patrick, rather than be bound by the incredible force of fashion, driven initially by gay society as such and then copied by the straights!  But there was no pretentiousness here, no one trying to upstage anyone else; they simply wanted to look their best for Richard and Peter!  Simple as that.  Stand up and be counted on their special day because they were special people, part of the original rowing group of 2018, so much shared history together.  She looked at the two young men in their late twenties, in the third row, with two lovely little Asian girls between them and smiled.  Lance caught her gaze and nodded his head vigorously and grinned back at her.  The two conspirators were still conspiring and they could read each other’s minds! 

*****

The celebrant, a petite, smartly dressed girl in her mid-thirties walked onstage.  She had been trained by old David Canning; he was in his late eighties and whilst his fire burnt bright on same-sex matters, he had finally decided to retire.  But he was sitting in the front row, hand on a most elegant walking stick, with his partner Peter Britton sitting next to him.  Because of his involvement with the ICHP, he had been involved with the 2018 rowing group from their early days at university.  He had trained a string of celebrants specifically to handle same-sex marriage ceremonies emanating from the university, and from the ICHP, and today’s celebrant, Isobel Carter, was the best.  She had absorbed all the presentation and public speaking skills without any pre-conceived ideas, and had proceeded to factor in her own powerful personality.  She knew Richard and Peter’s story well, but even she hadn’t been able to persuade Richard to include it in the ceremony.  Richard was adamant; he and Peter both agreed that everyone attending understood the journey they had undertaken to arrive at where they were today.  To repeat and rehash the whole story was pointless.  But to make reference to their joint experiences was fine, particularly in the social context where Richard hoped young people would never make the same mistakes he had made. 

They were about to walk on when from the little anteroom next to the stage area when the celebrant signalled them to stop; that there were some late arrivals.  Through the main entrance, a familiar figure emerged; a tall, elegant man with beautiful dark skin, greying hair and a flashing smile.  Praveen!  He was attending alone because Tim O’Brien was walking through political mayhem in Canberra after many years of stable federal government.  Australia had once more decided to embrace the issue of becoming a republic; dispensing with their legal and historical ties to Britain, simply based on commonsense economic rationale and necessary alignment with Asia.  It was time for a symbolic statement, but the Australian electorate remained, (correctly so), very wary of politicians; ----- with the exception of the partnership of The Hon. Timothy O’Brien and Praveen Nayar!  They had been in public life most of their life together, and were regarded fondly by voters as always delivering on their promises.  It helped that they were smart enough to cost their promises accurately before making them, but it was their partnership that so fascinated most Australians!  A same-sex couple who had a similar relationship with Australian voters as the Kennedy era in the United States all those years ago.  Tim and Praveen were Camelot again as surely as if the film had been made that very day!  It appeared the republican movement required Tim’s closer participation that day and Praveen brought with him the Prime Minister’s apology. 

Darcy waved him over and he slipped gratefully into a seat between he and Jacob, smiling broadly at little Ingrid, blissfully sleeping in her pram.  The massive door opened again and a woman in her early fifties slipped in almost furtively, with downcast eyes and defensive body language.  Eric Finche, standing in the front row, waiting to give the celebrant the signal to begin, was transfixed!  It was Monica Nation, Richard’s mother!  He quickly gave the ‘hold everything’ signal to the celebrant and literally ran to the rear of the chapel.  “Monica,” he hissed, “come with me, quickly.” 

She looked startled, but she recognised Eric.  So, she followed him to the front row where Jasmine Finche, also in a state of shock, smiled uncertainly at her. 

“I think you should say hello to your son before we start, Monica,” Jasmine said, knowing Richard and Peter would be shattered to find her there afterward.  Eric nodded in agreement, but Monica looked terrified.  The celebrant, quick as a flash, understood, having thoroughly researched Richard and Peter’s background.  She walked into the small room. 

“Just a slight delay,” she said, smiling at Richard and Peter, as Eric, Jasmine and Richard’s mother walked in the other door.  The colour drained instantly from Richard’s face. 

“Mum?” he croaked, as she opened her arms to both of them. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long dear,” she said, “but your father was finally admitted to hospital yesterday.  To Green Fields.  Paranoid schizophrenia and religious mania combined.  I doubt if he’ll recover.  Your sister,” she said, “is heading the same way.  You and I are the only sensible ones left.  I lost my faith about the same time as you did, but I had to see it through with your father before I could even think about anything else.  So here I am,” she said, “whatever it’s worth.  I’m sorry you’ve been caused so much pain.” 

The celebrant turned to go, but Richard stopped her. 

“Wait Isobel,” he said.  “Mum’s here, and in so doing, she’s endorsed Peter and I, correct?” 

Monica Nation looked her son in the eye.  “Yes, of course, that’s why I’m here.  To let you both know that you have my support on your special day.  Your father has lost all cognitive power and your sister, as you know, married one of the church elders and has become a bigger bitch than ever.  Made worse because they can’t have children and their silly religion won’t allow them to use IVF.  You and Peter are the only hope our dysfunctional family has.” 

Richard linked his fingers in a loving gesture with Peter, who nodded and smiled, knowing Richard was seeking his permission. 

“Then that being the case, we would like you to be included in the family part of the ceremony.  Is that OK Isobel?” 

“Of course,” the celebrant smiled patiently. 

Eric and Jasmine turned to leave, and Richard quickly turned to them. 

“Don’t go, guys,” he said.  “I’d like us to all walk on together to show some solidarity, OK?  But before we do, I want you to understand, mum, that Eric and Jasmine have become my de facto parents in the period of time that my birth family rejected me.  In fact, Jasmine saved my life when I tried to commit suicide.  “Oh,” Monica responded, looking at the group.  “I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” she wailed, “I was so frightened of Richard’s father; he threatened to kill me if I tried to contact Richard.  I should go,” she said, “it was a mistake for me to come.”  “Rubbish!” Peter snapped.  “Pull yourself together Mrs Nation, that’s past history.  When you walk out there with mum and dad, you’re making a statement; that commonsense and love, the things that truly matter, have triumphed over ignorance and fear, the things that the churches have come to represent.  And don’t think you won’t be noticed because the local press is here and I’ll make sure we’re all photographed together!”  He walked over to Richard’s mother and took her hands.  “Welcome to our family,” he said, it’s a new start for all of us.” 

*****

The celebrant, expecting a low key response, got exactly the opposite.  As Eric, Jasmine and Monica walked on, hand-in-hand, everyone stood and politely applauded.  Then as Richard and Peter strode on, the applause erupted.  ‘Just like the other weddings,’ old David thought, ‘it doesn’t matter that this is nearly ten years later, the enthusiasm is still there!’  And it obviously was; the celebrant began to enjoy herself; never had she experienced a crowd that was so responsive!  What followed next was something so special, that she knew she would never forget it; it would remain in her consciousness as the most memorable ceremony in her career. 

Richard had asked for time to speak just after the Vows, when they had legally become wedded partners.  He was one of the fortunate people who could feel the emotion of the moment, say exactly what was in his heart and in his mind, but had the ability to speak without displaying emotion.  But when he did begin to speak, everyone in the building understood how deeply he felt, how considered was his choice of words, and that he was sincere in every syllable.  He looked at the Dean and smiled, and she smiled back.  “You all know that I’m the most unromantic prick this side of the rabbit proof fence, and sometimes when Peter and I talk to each other I know it can sound like we’re having a blazing row; when actually the opposite is the case! ----- most of the time!”  There was a general guffaw from the guests.  “But to us, just saying we love each other, simply doesn’t do justice to the way we feel about each other, and about us as a couple.  We both agree, and it sounds far-fetched, but we believe we actually fell in love as two little boys that first day at primary school!  That’s how long we’ve been an item!” 

He paused for a moment, stared at the architrave at the rear of the chapel where the wall met the roof.  He gathered his thoughts again, and won points for his absolute honesty, as he continued in a quieter voice.  “But sometimes, love goes on holiday; or,” he said smiling at Alain and Kenneth, “as you Americans say, goes on vacation!  Does it vanish like ice on a barbeque?”  The crowd giggled.  “No, when you really, truly love someone, it is always there, it stays with you, both of you, just underneath the surface, bubbling away, just waiting for the right circumstances and the right time to bloom again, and that’s what’s happened to us.  Some people in the world are just plain lucky, and we’ve had more luck than most.”  Peter moved over to the podium and they had a quick cuddle and an even quicker kiss.  There was a deafening silence broken by Thomas Benson-Church, who exclaimed loudly and clearly at the top of his lungs; “Patty-Mum, dad’s senimenna!”  He and his brother pointed at Adam, who was a blubbering mess, as were most of the crowd!  It broke the ice, there were howls of laughter and sustained applause for the guests of honour. 

*****

The folding doors opened into the spacious function room beside the chapel; and the guests began to mingle.  As with all such functions, the guests of honour were overwhelmed by well-wishers as they worked their way around the room.  They had finally spoken to everyone and finally had time for a glass of wine and a sandwich.  Suddenly two of Richard’s workmates, Cameron and Jason slipped quietly up behind them.  “Hey guys,” said Richard, “how ya doin?” 

“Hey,” said Jason, “congratulations.” 

“Thank you so much guys,” said Peter, quite touched that these boys had even bothered to attend.  He remembered them from the morning tea that Sam Covington had so kindly laid on so he could meet everyone at Richard’s work.  When Richard was really ill and his rehabilitation was only just beginning.  Totally unprepared, he had given them all chapter and verse on same-sex attracted people, and was asked, he remembered, an amazing variety of questions.  Then Sam had asked him a month or so later to meet the Directors and report on Richard’s progress.  And there was yet another morning tea; this time he remembered thinking Cameron ‘had to be one of us’ and strangely, Jason, the big, butch guy from purchasing had cornered him and asked a lot of questions that seemed, at the time, superfluous for a guy whom he now remembered was supposed to marry a nice Italian girl around about ----- now.  Richard had also joined the dots together, suddenly noticing Jason holding Cameron’s hand.  “So guys are you trying’ to tell us something?” 

Jason hung his big boof head and grinned.  “Yeah.  When Pete came to visit the first time he filled in a lot of gaps in my life I’d never really thought about.  Like why I enjoyed Cameron’s company more than my fiancé.  Then I realised Cameron liked me, too.  Then the second time Pete was there, about a month later, I think I nearly drove him mad with my questions!”  Peter smiled at this bear of a bloke; who was just so sincere.  “Then Richard came back to work, and the only person he could talk about was you, Pete, and I just knew what I had to do.  I went to my fiancé` and said sorry, but it’s over.” 

“Jesus,” said Richard, “it’s a wonder the Mafia didn’t take you out!” 

“They tried everything, threats, intimidation, breach of promise action, everything.  But what they didn’t understand was that I was where I should been in the first place; with Cameron.  When you guys finally got it all together, we’d been an item for a few weeks.  We moved in together shortly afterwards, and whilst you were away last week, we told Sam and the troops.” 

“What did he say?” grinned Richard, highly delighted. 

“Oh not more fuckin’ queens, I can’t stand it!  Actually, they’re great, they love takin’ the piss outta us, but we’re really happy, and that’s all that matters.”  He handed Peter an envelope.  “You two inspired us so much that we’re getting’ married next month.  There’s your invitation.”