I handed Rafe a mug of hot chocolate as he stood by the windows of Alastair’s apartment, peering out onto Perry Street, seemingly deep in thought.

“Thanks, Joey.”

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“I don’t know if they’re worth that much. No, just flashing back to the wedding. That was the first official farewell tour.”

“First? I didn’t know there was a second—”

“It’s funny how Alastair ends up being there for both. Yes, I know he’s not here physically right now. But that ring on your finger announces his presence nonetheless.”

“It doesn’t mean we can’t stay in touch. We’re friends for life, remember?”

“I take back what I said at The Palm Court. I am a fool, Joey. A fool for giving up on us thirty years ago and still a fool today for thinking I could bring you back into my life…after all these years.”

“It was a decision we both made. Maybe not at the same time but eventually you accepted the logic behind it. Sara made a much better wife and partner for you than I would have ever been. You know down deep that’s true.”

“If you say so. I should have tried to find out. I was weak. I did what mom and Sally expected me to do. Take over dad’s company. Marry a nice girl, have kids, give mom grandchildren, bury my own hopes and dreams. You were always the stronger one between us, Joey. God, I folded like a house of cards, the first time I was tested—”

“Hopes and dreams, Rafe? You can’t begin to count the hopes and dreams I’ve had shattered in my life. I don’t know how I’m still here, mind and soul relatively intact.” I gently placed both hands on Rafe’s shoulders and looked up into his eyes. “We can’t re-litigate the past, Rafe. We can only make the best of the present. Sell the company, put those travel plans into action, reward yourself for the successes you’ve achieved…your family, the building designs you’ve made—”

“The cherry on top would have been getting back together with you. But it wasn’t meant to be.”

“What’s this about a second farewell though?”

“Martin and Sally have a country house in Kingston, upstate. They spend Christmas and New Year’s up there every year. Harlow and I are heading up there on Friday, Christmas Eve, with the rest of the gang. So…tonight’s the last time we’ll see each other for…who knows? Another couple of decades? I think my joke about meeting up again in a nursing home might turn out to be prescient.”

“That’s too gloomy by half, Rafe. Now that you’re taking early retirement, you’ll have enough time to see your friends more often. I’ve heard there’s things called airplanes that can take you anywhere in the world within hours. Or, better yet, drive across country, see the USA in your Chevrolet…”

“If that’s an invitation then I’m accepting. Are you sure Alastair won’t mind?”

“He wouldn’t try to stop me from seeing you, Rafe. He knows there’s a bond between us that’s way beyond any romantic suspicions.”

Rafe looked at the gold Omega Speedmaster watch on his left wrist as he placed the empty mug in his right hand on the coffee table.

“I guess this is good night and goodbye…for now. I’ve had a wonderful day, Joey. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and congratulations on your nuptials. Be happy, Joey.”

“I will, Rafe. It’s taken six decades but I think I’ve gotten it right this time.” I helped Rafe with his overcoat and walked him to the door. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and I followed him with my tearing-up eyes as he made his way slowly to the elevator, looking back over his shoulder twice. We exchanged waves as the doors closed.

The tryptophan in my cup of hot chocolate refused to bring on sleep. Almost two hours after Rafe left, I was still sitting in Alastair’s favorite easy chair, thoughts gnawing away at me. Thoughts about Rafe’s wedding. I could still hear the song Sara had the band play for the bride and groom’s first dance at the reception. I could still see Rafe and Sara slow dancing to it, her face a portrait of joy, his smile more restrained but still wide as he whispered in her ear something that made her giggle. Alastair, sitting next to me, grabbed my hand and squeezed.

The slow torture of conflicting emotions started at the welcome dinner on Friday evening. It was held in the Banquet Room of The Washington, D.C. Harriott Hotel. I’m sure they’d gotten a good deal for having the wedding weekend there, though neither Rafe’s nor Sara’s families had any worries about the expense. The hotel, located just a few blocks from The White House, had been built decades before Rafe’s father began designing for The Harriott Group. Still, you could tell by the presence of so many Harriott family members as invitees that there was never a question as to the wedding venue.

As is customary, there were speeches galore from both sides of the aisle. Rafe’s best man and Sara’s maid of honor actually used a PowerPoint presentation to accompany their comedic and “embarrassing” anecdotes about the bride and groom. I almost gasped out loud when one of the slides was a picture of Rafe and me on a playground seesaw when we were about 5 years old. Rafe’s best man, blessedly, did not identify me. The slide was just one in a series tracing Rafe’s childhood from toddler to teenager. Still, I unconsciously shifted in my seat so that I was out of the line of sight. Just in case someone like Sally might point me out to everyone.

After dessert and coffee, the guests mingled. Predictably, Rafe and Sara made a beeline to our table, with Martin and Sally in tow. After Rafe introduced me to our immediate neighbors as a childhood friend, there came the inevitable question.

“But why didn’t I see her in any of those photos? I certainly would have recognized such a pretty girl,” declared a woman from across the table.

“Oh, she was in a lot of those photos,” Sally interjected.

“I don’t recall seeing her. She couldn’t have changed so much from when she was a child,” stated another woman at the end of our table.

“Some people change a lot,” Sally teased. “Some people even change sex—”

Rafe put his arm around my shoulders. “Sally is being a little clumsy in trying to tell you that Joey here has transitioned to her true gender. She is now, as she always was meant to be, a woman. I’m very proud to have been best friends with Joey since we were knee high to a grasshopper.”

Everyone at the table seemed stunned. There was an awkward silence that lasted a full minute before one man directly across from me remarked, “You’re joking, right? She was a man?”

“Here we are in the capitol of the United States of America and the stench of bigotry seems to be gaining in redolence at this table—”

“Alastair, please. I don’t think the gentleman was disparaging me. Were you?”

“Oh, no. I was just…shocked. You’re very feminine. I would’ve never guessed. I apologize if you thought I was being offensive—”

“It was a normal response to an abnormal circumstance,” Sally pointed out. “After all, I think Joey’s the only transexual I’ve ever personally met.”

“I think they prefer to be called transgender these days,” the woman at the end of the table offered.

“Yes, that’s true. But it’d be fine if you just call me Joanne or Joey.”

Sara took hold of Rafe’s arm and nodded toward one of the other tables. “Darling, we should circulate. There’s the Hendersons and Uncle Walt waving to us.”

“See you tomorrow, everyone. Are you all taking the White House tour in the morning?” Rafe asked.

Everyone nodded. Before they all walked off, Rafe turned to me and winked. Sally caught the wink and frowned but Martin pulled her away before she could say something to Rafe.

I caught sight of myself yawning in the full-length mirror in my hotel room, wearing Rafe’s white dress shirt that I’d secretly kept all these years since the brief time we’d shared an apartment. I was halfway across the room to the bed when there was a knock on the door. I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand and read 11:12PM. Buttoning up my shirt, I went to the door and asked who it was, thinking it was probably Alastair.

“Joey, it’s Rafe. Can I talk to you?”

I opened the door, clutching the shirt around me, regretting not having availed myself of the robe provided by the hotel.

“Rafe, it’s late. What in the world—”

“Joey, so that’s what happened to my shirt.” I pulled him into the room and closed the door.

“How do you know it’s yours?”

“My monogram’s on the cuffs.”

“Oh. Do...do you want it back?”

“No, frankly, you look better in the shirt than I ever did.”

“What do you want, Rafe?” We sat down on the two chairs on either side of the bistro table. I made sure to pull the shirt tails down to cover my thighs. Rafe’s eyes widened.

“I’m still in love with you, Joey—”

“Rafe, you’re about to get married in front of almost two hundred family members and guests tomorrow. It’s a little late in the day literally to have second thoughts. Especially second thoughts about the two of us. We quit this “relationship” four years ago when you left New York.”

“Answer me honestly, Joey. Do you love me…still?”

“I’ll always love you, Rafe.” He reached for me. I parried his hands. “As a friend. A forever friend.”

“I’d rather marry you.”

“You love Sara, don’t you?”

“Well…yes, of course.”

“She loves you?”

“Yes…I mean…I don’t know. She might be marrying me for my money—”

“Rafe! Her father manages or owns half of the commercial property in downtown Washington. She’s worth more than you, for chrissake! She seems to be a lovely girl who’s head over heels in love with you. It’s over between us. In fact, there was never really an “us.”

There was a stricken expression on his face that slowly morphed into a pleading look. He slumped in his chair. I poured a glass of water for him. He downed half of it in one gulp.

“I’ve moved on, Rafe. As I thought you had. I mean, you’re getting married tomorrow!”

“It’s this guy, Alastair? Are you and he a thing? Is that who you’ve moved on to?”

“You asked for honesty. Okay. My gender has changed from male to female. Actually, I’ve been living as a woman for almost 4 years now, even before the surgery. But you know that. What you don’t know. What you never asked—”

“I’m sorry, Joey. Running the company pretty much took all my time. I’ve had at most two weeks of vacation in 4 years—”

“You’ve had enough time to meet, date, and get engaged to Sara, Rafe. We barely spoke on the phone for two hours total, never mind actually seeing each other.”

“I accept all the blame. I should have made the time. Prioritize our relationship. Even living in two different cities, it could’ve worked. And with your transition, my mother would’ve gotten on board. She would have…”

“You never asked whether I was attracted to men after transitioning. It’s not something you can control.”

“You loved me before you met Elizabeth. Our love was pure. Not dirty and perverse like your relationship with her.”

“I’m still sorting things out, Rafe. Alastair is just a friend from work. A good friend but that’s all it is. He talked himself into being my plus one. He’s got the better car.”

“So there’s still hope? I could call the wedding off. We could start over again. I’ll spend weekends in New York. I’ll do anything, Joey.” He got down on his knees before me. I turned my head away, sad to see him reduced to groveling.

“Get up, Rafe. It’s no use. We had our chance. We can go on blaming each other all we want but the stars just didn’t align for us.” I led him to the door. “Go back to your room. Go back to Sara. She’s going to be your wife now. Save all your love for her. Don’t hurt everyone by doing something rash, especially yourself.”

“If I can’t have you, Joey, then it’s all meaningless—”

“Don’t be melodramatic. You have a wonderful future with Sara ahead of you.” I gripped the door handle. “We’d only end in tears. You know that.” I opened the door and gently nudged him through. I kissed two fingers and brushed them against his lips. “Good night. Your life really begins tomorrow. Get some good sleep.”

I closed the door and sank to the floor, crying until I had no tears left to shed and drifted off to sleep.

The wedding ceremony was scheduled for 5PM and guests were not expected to arrive until 4PM, so after taking the tour of the White House in the morning with all the other out-of-town guests, Alastair and I lunched on Maryland Crab Cakes at the oldest restaurant in town, the Old Ebbitt Grill, and spent the afternoon visiting the Smithsonian Museum, then strolling the National Mall from one end, the Washington Monument, to the other, the Lincoln Memorial. We got back to the hotel with just enough time to change into our formal attire for the ceremony to be held in the courtyard.

The cocktail hour lasted from 6 to 7 and then the formal reception promptly started in the main ballroom. The newlyweds were introduced and took the floor for the first dance. The sight of Rafe and Sara moving slowly across the floor, smiling, whispering to each other, laughing, and giggling, reminded me of what I had told Rafe the night before. That they seemed truly happy in this traditional moment brought a smile to my own lips. But then a frisson of regret struck me as I realized a major part of my life was now behind me, forever lost in the temporal stream.

After the first dance, everyone was invited to join in on the dance floor. Alastair proved to be quite a nifty ballroom dancer. His French mother had insisted upon dance lessons for her son when he hit his tween years. After stepping on his feet the third time, Alastair advised me not to keep staring at Rafe and Sara.

“You keep dancing me toward them, Alastair.”

“That’s for Rafe’s benefit not yours. I still can’t believe he visited your room last night.”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it to you—”

“You snuck that tidbit in between bites of your crab cakes. I don’t blame him though. If it were me, I’d never give up on you.”

“Shut up and dance, Alastair. Oh, no, Sally’s moving toward us. Make a sharp left.”

Fortunately, they asked everyone to return to our tables. Dinner was served. They changed the seating so we were placed with a different group than at the welcome dinner. But apparently word had gotten around, most probably the source being Sally, that I was transgender. There was a lot of polite discussion of my “condition” until Alastair thankfully changed the subject. But, then, Alastair loves to talk about himself. He regaled our tablemates with anecdotes about everything from his Harvard days to working on 60 Minutes with Ed Bradley to the Emmy-winning segment he produced on the 30th anniversary of the release of The Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction.”

“Did Keith Richards actually dream that riff and woke up to hum it into a tape recorder?”

“Yeah, he supposedly added the phrase, ‘I can’t get no satisfaction,’ and then collapsed back into a deep sleep. Ha ha.”

They cleared away our first course and replaced it with the main course. That ended Alastair’s monologue as we all dug into the grilled chicken with sweet summer vegetables. A boring but safe entrée. One of the guests at our table did have an alternate dish – beef brisket with mashed potatoes.

Toasts from the best man and the maid of honor interrupted our meal. Apparently, they had kept some material in reserve for the reception. It got the expected laughs and chuckles from the assemblage. Next, we applauded as the parent dances proceeded. Sara’s father quite adroitly led his daughter across the dance floor. Rafe’s mother openly cried as her son danced with her while the band played “Forever Young,” the Bob Dylan classic.

Once again, we were asked to fill the dance floor for another session of uncoordinated movement. This time they played more “current” music…for the kids. Now we were beyond the scope of Alastair’s terpsichorean skills. The selections from the band swerved wildly from “Cotton Eye Joe” to “This is How We Do It.” I had to show Alastair how to do it. I was glowing with lady-like perspiration when they wheeled the enormous multi-tiered wedding cake into the ballroom. After the cake-cutting with the bride and groom’s obligatory feeding of the first slices to each other, coffee and dessert were enjoyed by everyone.

As the final rite before the reception ended, all the eligible women lined up to receive the bouquet toss from Sara. Technically, that group included me but I chose to stand a bit off to the side, looking on with Alastair. Before Sara turned her back, she winked at me. Her toss went high and to the left, hitting Alastair smack dab in his face. He caught the bouquet as it bounced off, just before it landed on the floor. When he straightened up, holding the bruised bouquet, he blushed a deep crimson. Sara vigorously pointed to me. Alastair handed the bouquet to me. It was my turn to blush as the party applauded politely. I locked eyes with Rafe, standing behind Sara. He quickly turned away. As did I.

Rafe and Sara made their grand exit from the ballroom to applause and glow-sticks. It was almost 11PM when the guests said their farewells to everyone. Alastair and I fell in line with the guests who were ambling to the elevators, heading to their rooms on the upper floors. Stopping Alastair, I took him aside and suggested getting some air on the balcony. He nodded and took my arm in his.

From the balcony, in the cool breeze of a late Spring night, we could see the White House illuminated against the dark, just a few blocks away. I hardly noticed Alastair’s arm circle my waist as we pondered the evening skyline.

“Cold?”

“Actually, it’s refreshing. It was very stuffy in the ballroom. And the dancing got me a little…”

“Sweaty?”

“Women don’t sweat, Alastair. We glow—”

Sylvia Metheny, Rafe’s mother, emerged from the shadows. It was Alastair who first noticed her standing behind us. She had been watching us for a minute or two.

“Joey, can I speak to you?”

“Mrs. Metheny. Of course.”

Nodding at Alastair, “Alone. Please. There’s an alcove just over there. At this time of night there’s no one about—”

“Excuse us, Alastair. This shouldn’t take too long.” I gestured to Sylvia to go into the alcove. I followed.

In the alcove, Sylvia lit up a cigarette.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke indoors.”

“Are you going to call the cops on me?”

“No, of course not. What is it you wanted to say, Sylvia?”

“When Rafe wanted to invite you, I vehemently objected. It was Sara who insisted. I thought that was strange but I conceded the argument. I want to thank you for not disrupting the wedding—”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Do you know why Rafe rarely called or visited you these last 4 years?”

“Yes, he’s been swamped with work, running his father’s company. I understood.”

“That’s part of it. I made it clear to him I didn’t want you in his life. I wanted him to lead a normal life. With a normal woman.”

“I see. And I suspected as much. But to be honest, Sylvia, I never expected to be invited. Whatever was between Rafe and I ended years ago. I ended it. So, I was never a threat to your vision of Rafe’s future.”

“Oh, yes, you definitely are. He was going to take a month off from his work to help you recover from your surgery in San Francisco. I told him I’d vote him out of the company if he did. I still hold the controlling shares on the board.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“He wouldn’t stop obsessing about you so I set him up with Sara. She’s a wonderful girl. Matt and I became fast friends with her parents from the first day we moved here, right before you two graduated from high school in Port Jefferson. Sara’s perfect for Rafe. Perfect for his future.”

“I agree. I wish only the best for them. And I’m sure they’ll produce lovely little grandkids to fill your dotage with joy and delight. Are we finished? Anything else you want to say to me?”

“I wanted to tell you that I have nothing against you. I’m glad you finally resolved your gender issues. You look wonderful. Honestly, you’re beautiful. And your friend, your plus one, seems like a nice young man. I wish you happiness, Joey. I…was thinking solely as Rafe’s mother. He deserves the best life. The best. His father worked very hard to see that his children…he didn’t live to see it. It became my mission when he passed on. You see that, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t, Sylvia. But it’s all in the past. You have nothing to worry about now. Good night, Sylvia.” I turned to step out of the alcove.

“Please don’t hate me. Joey. I did it for Rafe’s sake.”

“Poor Rafe.” The only words I uttered as Alastair walked me to my room. I inserted the key card into the door lock and pulled down the handle.

“Would you like to talk about it? There’s some wine in the minibar. I’m a good listener.”

“No thanks, Alastair. I’d like to get up early tomorrow and head back to the city, if you don’t mind.”

“There’s brunch tomorrow morning. It’s on the itinerary. And it’s free—”

“I’ll come by your room at 8. I’ll buy you brunch in Princeton on the way back. Pancakes. Your favorite nostalgic meal.” I smiled wanly and opened the door. Alastair was about to say something when I entered the room and closed the door behind me.

Friday morning. Christmas Eve. Alastair had called the night before to tell me he was taking the red eye from LAX and would land at JFK at around 8:30. A ride through rush hour and he’d be at our doorstep at 9:30. I was drinking the last of my morning cup of coffee and surfing the net on my tablet, reading the latest posts from my favorites on Substack, when the doorbell rang at a little past 9. Excitedly, I rushed to the door, thinking Alastair had made better time than he’d expected. When I looked through the peephole, I was surprised to see Rafe standing there holding a small, wrapped package at his side. I opened the door.

“Rafe! I thought you were leaving for Kingston today. Come in.”

“Morning, Joey. We are leaving today. I stopped by to give you your Christmas present.”

“Oh, Rafe. I didn’t get you anything. You shouldn’t have—”

He handed me the small package. It was professionally wrapped with a lovely bow and ribbon.

“Open it. Harlow’s in the car downstairs. We’re double parked.”

I carefully unwrapped the package to discover a slim rectangular box with the Tiffany & Co. logo emblazoned on it. Inside the box was a black Tahitian pearl necklace. I held it up against the light.

“Rafe, these are expensive. I’ve seen these going for $10,000.”

“$12,500 to be exact.”

“Thank you, Rafe, but this is too extravagant. You really shouldn’t have…”

“Wear it to the Oscars when your screenplay is nominated.”

“I wish, Rafe.” I kissed Rafe on the cheek. “Thank you. Now, I feel guilty for not getting you something.”

“You already gave me my present, Joey. Just spending the past week with you. It was worth all the pearls in the ocean…and more.”

“Don’t, Rafe. Please don’t.” I wiped away a tear that was threatening to emerge. “Enough talk about the past.” I placed my index finger across his lips.

The lock on the door clicked and it swung open. Standing in the doorway, both hands holding luggage, was Alastair, a look of shocked surprise on his face.

“Alastair! You’re home.”