September 2008 Our wedding supper. Only immediate family and Primo's Lutheran pastor. The priest couldn't make it. He's a popular guy. Other weddings to do. My mom, my brother and sister. Doris and Sly, Ted. Primo's stepdaughters, Claudia and Chloe. Pastor G. That's it. Small group at a nice restaurant. We have brought our own wine. Not that that matters to this story. But Primo is a wine snob and we have over 300 bottles of wine in the basement, so why wouldn't we?
If Primo were standing over my shoulder as I write this, he would be urging me to write what kind of wine it was. I don't remember. I don't really like wine that much. Yes. I know. How can I be such a philistine? No, I don't know why he married me. Neither do his parents.
My brother and sister both give toasts in which they extol Primo's virtues. Say how happy they are that he has joined our family. Joke that I am not worthy of how wonderful Primo is.
Sly stands. Raises his glass. Talks about how wonderful Primo is.
Yeah. I know that.
Says he hopes Primo will be as happy in his second marriage as Sly is in his.
Ooops. I don't think that Sly and Doris are particularly happy. They fight. A lot. Doris has called Primo from inside a locked bathroom before. I have seen Sly make Doris cry. I have heard the name calling. I do not wish this for my own marriage.
Sly continues. In his entire toast, he never says my name once.