My calls to Shirley were left hanging in airspace like an unsuited parachute jumper. My heart had overtaken my body and like “The Blob,” I could not discern any part of myself from myself. I had become one giant pathetic broken heart.

As I stood by the phone trying to decide about calling Shirley one last time, Greg came home. He looked understandably bad. He hugged me with necessity. “I can’t stop shaking Fran,” he confessed. I pulled out the tequila and we shot two back remaining silent.

I told Greg about the telephone pole drama, hoping he would laugh and make fun of me but he didn’t. He stared with a distinct and growing sadness. I poured him another and he pushed it away, then looked at me again with a new demeanor. His anger was pulling like a dog on his leash when suddenly Greg broke free. “You’re the stupidest dyke I know. What’s wrong with you? Are you in love?”

“Yes,” I said, the tears suddenly edging the rims of my eyes. Greg reached over and hugged me again, but harder this time for my benefit, which, I appreciated. “I don’t know how to take that leap of commitment Greg. Every time I give myself completely to Shirley and accept the fact she’s the one for me, the next day I’m a mess-- as if I had hung myself the day before and the only way to prove there’s no rope around my neck is to screw around.”

“To screw Shirley?”

“No, it’s not about Shirley, it’s about me. I think about dancing. Like when I was young and would lock myself in my room and dance for hours.”

“You can do that Fran, you can dance alone for the rest of your life. Or not.”

“I don’t want it to be that way. I want to be with her.”

“Then do it!”

Carrie Frazier was the minister’s name that I had gotten from the LA Gay and Lesbian Center. One of the few women ministers who would perform lesbian weddings. I couldn’t believe I had even made the call. After introducing myself and giving her a quick synopsis of my story, she agreed to see me.

Sitting in her office, I explained what I wanted to do. She looked at me, stunned. “Fran, are you sure
surprising her with me, a minister, to perform a commitment ceremony is the right thing to do?”

I nodded.

Carrie sat quiet for a moment, her hands to her youthful face, “You love her?”

“Without question.”

I could tell she had performed countless ceremonies for other lesbians, only to discover later that they were temporary U-Haul marriages ending in divorce. She stared me down, making sure I was certain.

“Okay,” she said, cautiously convinced of my decision.

Shirley lived in a small one-bedroom apartment on the East Side and just as I suspected, her truck was there when we pulled in. I knocked on the door, my heart in my hand.

She opened the door and with seeing Carrie next to me, surprisingly didn’t slam the door in my face. I introduced Carrie as the minister who was about to perform our wedding ceremony.

Shirley looked at me, clearly moved, but still carrying a face of resentment. “Fran, forget it. I don’t want to live like this. Did I want to marry you? Yes, but not a whim that could change tomorrow.”

Carrie suddenly spoke up, “Anything can change tomorrow, maybe tomorrow you’ll have doubts, but marriage is trusting that you both will live with the consequences that tomorrow brings. There will always be consequences.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I’ve trusted, I’ve given, and I haven’t gotten much in return.”

“I’m trying to give now,” I blurted out. “Listen, could we just come in and discuss it?”

With a small smile on her lips she let us in. As we sat around the square glass coffee table, Carrie released a heavy sigh. We both looked over at her and she simply shook her head, saying, “A blind man could see you two love each other.”

“I do love her,” she defended. “But that’s not what this is about.”

“Yes, it is!” I insisted, my decibel level increasing. “No one has ever been able to touch me like you-- as easily as a child can smile.” I began to nervously pace around the back of the golden couch where Shirley and I had lay many times. Suddenly, I stopped. “You’re a stronger person, Shirley. A better person, a more giving person, a more trusting person, you’re the person I want to become.” My eyes tingled with verging tears. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to love you and I’m here to prove that, to jump off the cliff. I’m not leaving until you ask me to leave.”

I tried desperately to get a read from Shirley’s expression, but I couldn’t.

Slowly, she spoke, her voice soft. “I love you too, so…I guess…we better do this, huh?” I froze, completely stunned, then jumped over the couch and on top of her, kissing her wherever my lips could reach. She roared with laughter.

“Fran, stop it!” she screamed, giggling.

“I promise I’ll do anything it takes to keep you happy. I love you, Shirley.”

Carrie stood up and before we knew it, began, “This moment, we are gathered here for this moment…”
We turned our attention to Carrie who looked directly at us–reading not from a book but from, what I believed, to be her soul. “Because that is all we have. And by making this decision to commit to one another you are declaring…”

I don’t remember the rest of Carrie’s speech. All I can remember is holding Shirley’s hand in mine and feeling peace-- nothing but absolute peace.