Delicately, always delicately, she grasped the champagne flute in one hand, her speech cards in the other and stood up, enjoying the hush that fell over the assembled group. She looked at the happy, smiling faces, sitting at the tables she had designed with some of the finest creative minds in the country, eating the Kobe beef steaks she had selected to be shipped in from Tokyo, and gazing out across the lush, verdant fields surrounding the venue, and she knew that this was the happiest she had ever been. She had been looking forward to this day for months, and now it was finally here. She was officially Mrs Jocelyn Fitzwilliam. Her hard work had paid off.
“I wanted to say a little something to all of you, as I know Tony isn’t keen on public speaking, are you babe?"
Jocelyn turned to her new husband, who nodded, grimacing.
“It means so much to us, both of us, that you’re all here with us today, to celebrate our special day. You mean the world to us, every one of you, and we couldn’t imagine celebrating without you."
A loud cheer rose from the small table in the corner that had already polished off 2 bottles of red wine and 3 of white. Jocelyn waved to them.
“Especially my girls!"
The girls’ cheers rose in volume and pitch.
“Obviously with any wedding, there are always people who can’t make it, and I'd like to throw a shout out to Tony's sister, Sue and his boys Tom and Andy, who couldn’t be here today, but are always in our thoughts."
A polite, muted, round of applause rippled through the room. Jocelyn noticed that Tony's cousin, Steve, was looking at his phone, checking the football scores, probably. He was really staring at it, giving it 100% of the attention he should have been giving to the day. She knew in that instant she’d never forgive him, the cunt.
“When we announced that we were getting married, I think a lot of people were shocked. But I’ll say now what I said then: love is love, and it happens when it happens. Could be slow, could be quick. I love my husband, he’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, and if you can’t handle it then you can go and fuck yourself."
Jocelyn's girls erupted in cheers, whoops, screams, and some dancing. The rest of the room was a little more taken aback by the profanity, but warmed to Jocelyn's emotion. This definitely seemed to mean a lot to her.
“Look at me, crying on my wedding day, messing up my makeup. It’s an emotional day I guess. But if any of you wipe away any tears with anything other than Fitzwilliam tissues, we’re gonna throw you out, right babe?"
The audience swelled into laughter, genuinely and openly. Jocelyn placed a loving hand on her husband’s shoulder, who placed his hand on top of hers, smiling through the pain. He reasoned that whilst they couldn’t avoid him having treatment around the wedding, the most important thing is that today was happening at all, and that the treatment, whilst painful, would hopefully allow him a little bit more time with the angel that had, in all ways other than medically, saved his life.
“So I’d like you all to raise your glasses”, Jocelyn said. “To Tony, to today, and to love."
The crowd toasted, drank, and sat back down. Jocelyn kissed Tony on the cheek, and took a seat on her bespoke and bejewelled throne, happy.
That was, until she saw that not only had Steve not sat down with everyone else, but he was making a beeline for the top table. How dare he? She wanted desperately to stand up and shout at him, tear him down for trying to interrupt her day, but was confident people would see her as a bitch. And people don’t give bitches the benefit of the doubt. So she maintained her smile, as ever being careful to not show an obnoxious amount of teeth. Delicate and humble, delicate and humble.
“Excuse me, hi, I’m… really sorry to interrupt things, but I really wanted to say something”, said Steve, to the seated masses. "Is this ok, Jocelyn?"
Jocelyn stood. “Of course, Steve. Absolutely. We’d love to hear from you.” She was pleased with her performance. She was pretty sure people bought it. Bloody Steve…
“It’s just… well... I’m not sure if anyone else has been checking the newsfeeds on their links, but something incredible has happened, and I couldn’t wait. They’ve cured cancer!"
...
The room was muted. Only for a second, while people processed the information, but there was a moment where silence reigned.
“It was announced about an hour ago by a clinic in Sweden. It’s a drug that activates some kind of natural cancer-fighting cells humans have. I haven’t read too many details, but…"
The whispers and murmurs in the room began to increase, with people buying Steve's story, and realising the ramifications.
“But…”
All eyes moved to Jocelyn, who wanted to get to the bottom of this. It could affect her life in a major way; she needed more facts. “What about pancreatic cancer, Steve? That’s the worst kind. It’s not… is it a cure for that, as well?"
“I think so,” replied Steve, shrugging. “They discovered it ages ago, but had to go through testing for years. Apparently the tumours shrink pretty quickly and the vast majority of people have made full recoveries. Obviously I don’t want to speak too soon, but it’s very exciting, right? And on today of all days. Making a perfect day even better, eh Tony?"
Jocelyn looked at Tony, who was beaming. After a second of shock, a smile spread over her face, too. This changed everything.
As soon as she was able, she excused herself to her room, and got straight on her phone. Steve was right. The drug’s effect on cancerous cells was discovered back in 2002, and in the reams of testing they’d carried out since, 98.4% of patients, even those with end-stage cancer, had made full recoveries. So it seemed as though, unless there was some kind of miracle, Anthony John Fitzwilliam would probably live another 20-30 years. Which means she would be married to him until she was in her mid-40s, at which point she’d be no longer young and sexy and able to make the most of a tissue fortune. As the reality of the situation sunk in, tears began to fall down Jocelyn Fitzwilliam’s cheeks and onto her £16,000 dress, staining it with her mascara. She found she didn’t really care.
Radiation therapies, even with the advances that have been made in the area to deal with the evolution of cancer, can affect a man’s testosterone level. This can, amongst other things, cause a man’s sexual desires to diminish whilst going through treatment, or make it harder to maintain an erection. For Tony Fitzwilliam, the former did not apply. The latter, to his chagrin, did. To be entirely up front and open, he explained this to the woman who would become his life-partner on their 1st date. Luckily for him, she was exceptionally understanding in matters of the bedroom.
Even on their wedding night, when his fatigue was such that doing much more than simply lie on the bed was impossible, she took care of him. His body was old, and coarse, and wrinkled, but still she kissed it, caressed it. He felt his penis, though withered and weak and flaccid, taken into her mouth and coaxed into life. She did not see his liver spots, his calloused elbows, his misshaped feet. She saw only him, and the soul within his aged form that she had fallen in love with so quickly and so completely. And the gift they had been given today was more than health, it was time. When they married, they had believed, as per the doctor’s best guess, that they would have mere months together to enjoy as life partners. But now their embraces, their jokes, their sexual expression, could go on for years and years.
Tove opened his eyes, and looked down at his wife, on her knees, showing him exactly how much she loved him. This was a special day for them both.
He could even see tears in her eyes.
