"Let...

Me...

Tell you 'bout this couple here

Before you raise your wine or beer.

He ran for Congress – ran and won –

Built roads and schools, diminished guns.

He mended bridges cracked and burned

But his big win was finding her.

She took things to a whole new level

Cracking codes environmental –

Saving us from our worst selves,

But not so fast, she needs our help.

So friends abroad and friends attendant,

Heal the Earth – we must defend it.

Though this cause is near and dear,

Let me be clear why else we're here –

To celebrate a love profound,

As large as life, as fast as sound.

So raise your glass and praise their names

To Martha and her true love, James."

The speaker raised his glass and the rest of the reception followed, adding various cheers. Then he gave the microphone back to Kate Mckinnon, the designated MC. From the head table, Martha and James stood to applaud and he gave them an actor's bow before leaving the dance floor.

"Lin-Manuel Miranda everybody," Mckinnon said and applause swelled. "What a talent. What a talent. Though I'm a little worried that his next project, Mondale, won't be quite the blockbuster Hamilton was, but you know, I'll keep an open mind. Anyhoo, that will be the last toast of the night which is probably a good thing because I don't know about you, but I've got an empty belly filling up with alcohol. But before we release the roast beef, I gotta say my peace."

Wearing a white pantsuit with a neckline plunging to her navel, Mckinnon crossed the dancefloor to James' side of the head table on which, she leaned her elbow. "This guy... Valedictorian in high school, graduates with honors at Yale, somehow plays shortstop for the friggin' Yankees for five years then quits to go back to law school before heading to Washington to crack some conservative skulls. Pretty damn impressive... Yet he's the underachiever of the two!" She stood and patted James on the shoulder. "Sorry to say it, but... oh hell, I'm not sorry, you're a big boy." As the audience laughed at her roasting, she circled around to Martha's side.

"Here's my girl. Here's my... tragically heterosexual girl. She wins an olympic gold medal for Team USA Softball... She wins the Mirrorball Trophy on Dancing with the Stars... She has a smash-hit, stand-up comedy special on Netflix? In the words of one Jerry Seinfeld... 'Really?' And then that's it. No other accomplishments. Oh wait!" Mckinnon smacked her palm to her forehead, feigning epiphany. "I forgot. She devised a method to safely scrub excess CO² from our atmosphere – a quantum leap toward reversing global warming. I don't pretend to understand the science – something to do with algae and wave energy. But my. Girl. Did. It!"

At this, the entire reception, James included, stood to cheer and applaud. Martha, still bashful after all these lives, mouthed 'Stop' to him, but he continued. It was the least she deserved. Eventually, she stood as well, waving thanks to the crowd. Out of the corner of her mouth, she said to him, "Do I really have to do this?"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he responded.

"Oh, that old line." She turned to Mckinnon and hugged her, then took the microphone. "Thank you. Thank you, so much," she said and the applause died down. "This has been beyond my hopes and dreams."

James knew this was an exaggeration, if not a flat-out lie. Since she'd returned, they'd spent a significant amount of time traveling the globe, stopping at a number of tropical paradises and luxury island resorts. She hadn't been that excited about this wedding in the first place as they'd been married for a long, long time.

No, all of this was theater for the cause. And for the cause, she had to play her role.

"I'm just so grateful. I'm grateful to Leo for the use of his island and resort." She raised her wine glass toward Dicaprio, seated off to the side, who raised his mojito to modest applause. "I'm grateful to Mr Murray for marrying us. And Bill... I've got your number in case... you know."

"I'm sitting right here!" James shouted in jest.

"You certainly are," she said as if talking to a toddler. "But I'm standing and holding a microphone, so I'm going to do the talking, okay?" She turned back to the guests as they laughed at the exchange. "Anyways, I'm grateful to my team at Berkeley for their hard work and to all of you present, who've donated your time and resources to fight climate change. But I am perhaps most grateful to the many around the world who've taken up the fight."

As she spoke, James' chest glowed with admiration. He knew she hated standing in the spotlight, but when she does, she is goddamn radiant!

Then the thought flashed. It was a compulsion he couldn't break. She's eclipsing me... Whenever they had met in all her first lives, he was practically a superhero to her. Of course she'd be impressed with all the tricks he'd learned unnaturally. Of course she'd fall for him when he knew her fears and desires. But at his core; as his first and original self, he was common and unexceptional. And as the lives mounted and her expertise widened, it was only a matter of time. Someday she would pass him. Maybe she already has...

"I'm proud of my work," Martha continued as she paced the floor. "I've done my best and there's still more I hope to do. But for all my accolades, I'm still only one person." She stopped and looked directly at one of the news cameras positioned in the corner of the hall. "We are eight billion. We are mighty. But we... are not nearly out of the woods."

She paused just long enough for the moment to land before transitioning into her comic relief, back to pacing the floor. "But you know, being in the presence of the brilliant Lin-Manuel Miranda makes me think of- Oh, by the way... Lin-Manuel Miranda, everybody!" The guests followed her cue and stood to applaud. "Seriously! Wasn't he amazing? I couldn't believe it. They're like, 'Hey, Michelangelo wants to sculpt your likeness.' And I'm like, 'Okay, sure!'" Martha waited for the laughter and applause to die down. "Lin-Manuel... you humble and flatter my husband and I- Ooh! My husband." She turned to James across the floor for the flirtatious banter. "Did you hear that, husband."

The cameras swung from Martha to James along with the guests. "I sure did, wife," he said in his deepest, 'Leading Man' voice.

"Gonna have to get used to that!" Martha said (with just a wee bit of irony). "Oh jeez, I've gone so far off topic. Sorry, but I did just get married. Can a girl be a little scatterbrained on her wedding day? Can she? As I was saying, our efforts to fight climate change remind me of Hamilton: Lin-Manuel's ingenious celebration and illumination of one of our Founding Fathers as he and others fought to create a better world. They were making history and they knew it. We too, in the year 2024 are making history – one way or another.

"Because we are at a critical moment in the chronicles of man – a tipping point, if you will. In two hundred years, our great, great, great grandkids will write of our glory in turning around a dying planet or they will cast us as villains, spitting on our names for damning them to apocalypse. The choice is ours to make and it is directly in front of us.

"And the elite will not solve this – not the celebrities, not the politicians, not even the scientists. We, the mighty eight billion, are the solution. So I dearly thank those around the world fighting the good fight. To the woman coordinating a carpool to work; to the kid organizing a recycling drive at school. And to the man who, after the coal mine closed, walked right into the green vocational development center to start his family's next chapter – I see you and I thank you. You are a hero to me and to your descendants."

The room began to applaud, but she wasn't done. "We can do this."

The applause grew as the guests stood. "We will do this!"

Martha waited for the cheers to crest and begin to fall before resuming. "Thank you. Thank you. So that said – I think I've thanked just about everyone I need to. Let's see..." She began to playfully count with her fingers. "I thanked Leo, Bill, Lin-Manuel, everyone at home... Not sure who else there is..." As she spoke, James played his part – pantomiming his exasperation to perfection. The guests played as well, laughing and calling out reminders to Martha.

"Oh yes... You," she said, pointing to James and wearing the world's most beautiful smile. "Come on out here, sailor."

James made the customary Who me? gesture, then stood and walked to her to cheers from the guests. He put his arms around her waist. She kept hers in front, still holding the microphone. "Did you have something to say?" she asked then angled it to him.

"Well... no, but you've been saying such nice things about everyone else so... aren't you going to say a bunch of nice things about me?" he asked.

She brought the mic back then looked to the side. "Ouch. This is awkward. Oh, honey. Everybody knows you've done all sorts of great stuff. And you know how much I hate hearing redundant things more than once." James inhaled, then let out an overly dramatic, pitiful sigh.

"Oh alright," Martha conceded. "James Quinn-Beckett, without you, none of this would be possible." At this, several Awwww's came from the guests. She looked at them. "You might think I'm exaggerating, but it's true." She returned to James and something relaxed behind her eyes. Suddenly, the curtain was down and she was talking to him. "You are the love of my life. You were my love before this life and will be after its end. I cannot thank you enough for being with me and pray you always will."

For the first time in a long time, James' throat caught. But he stifled the emotion and leaned in to kiss her. Applause and cat calls erupted and, miracle of miracles, James' heart was back in the cafeteria on the day she returned. His love for her was pristine and without decay. Perhaps they were immune after all.

She released his mouth but held his eyes captive with her own. Without breaking contact, she brought the mic up to her mouth. "You ready Ben?"

"Damn right," Ben Gibbard said from the band stage before he and the rest of Death Cab for Cutie began to play I Will Follow You into the Dark for their first dance. It was the second dour song choice, along with Fake Plastic Trees, on which Martha had insisted. If she was going to weather the pageantry, she needed to at least be able to subvert it here and there. And these were her two favorite love songs. As someone who admittedly does not believe in them.

She extended the mic to their side and someone in James' peripheral vision ran up to take it. Hands free from all but one another, they began an improvised, muted rumba.

"So how'd I do?" Martha asked. "Folksy enough?"

"You were great," James said. "Hashtag relatable. Hashtag folksy as folk."

"Oh my god. You'd sound so young and hip if it were 2009," she teased.

They danced in silence, staring into each other's eyes for a few bars before Martha finally asked, "What?"

"What, 'what'?" James answered.

"I don't know. You've got this giant, goofy grin on your face."

"I just married the girl of my dreams and now I'm dancing with her. I'm happy."

"Happy's good."

"It is," James said. "How about you?"

"How about me, what?"

"Are you... happy?"

Martha cocked her head to the side. "Seriously? James, of course I'm happy."

"Great."

"Do you not think I'm happy?"

"No... I... You know what?" He pivoted then dipped her. "I'm having too much fun and you are too damn beautiful for this kind of silliness." Then he kissed her before slowly lifting her back to her feet.

"Smooth move, James."

"Thanks Kobe," James answered as Kobe Bryant and his wife passed to join the dance.

As their rumba continued blissfully, James surveyed the hall. Along with Kobe and Vanessa, Pete Buttigieg was dancing with his husband and Harry Styles was pulling a blushing Elizabeth Warren to the floor. Seated together at a table just off the dance floor, Margaret Cho and Neil deGrasse Tyson listened intently as Greta Thunberg articulated. At the next table, Billie Eilish showed Bill Gates a video on her phone. Behind them at the bar, Lin-Maunel Miranda and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez cackled at Alia Bhatt, in the middle of an animated and apparently hilarious story. At the end of the bar, Madeleine Brand stood by herself, smiling at Martha and James. When he made eye contact, she looked away nervously.

"Don't forget we promised NPR a quick exclusive," he said.

"Right, right. Let's just do it. I'm so ready for the PR to be over."

"For what it's worth, I'm proud of you. This is amazing. I never mounted this kind of support."

"Yeah..." she said and her eyes became distant.

"Martha?"

Her eyes snapped back into focus. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm ready if you are."

She smiled, but James knew it was conflicted. Something was obviously bothering her... but she'll tell me in due time. Unless she's... No, you're just being paranoid. "I'm ready," he said and they left the dance floor.

Author's note:

When I came up with Miranda giving a toast, I thought, "That's a great idea!" then immediately "Nope!  Not going to do it.  Because who do I think I am?  I can't write for him!!" 

But good ideas are good and bad ideas are bad (profound, I know).  Not following a good idea out of fear is my definition of failing as a writer.  That's not to say I necessarily succeeded at capturing his voice.  But I owe it to myself, my characters, and my readers to go for it.

Thanks for reading!   <3 <3  (these still look like someone dropped a pair of ice cream cones to me).