to n + d; the toast i should have made.

I met Nicole eleven years ago, I think. It was the summer that she and Sue moved to Portland from New Orleans, but it really took until that Christmas, when everyone else flew home to their families and left us orphaned, for our friendship to gel. I probably met Dylan a few months after that; he worked with Sue, I think she was dating his roommate. Things stayed that way for most of the time I was in Portland: Nicole and I were neighbors, roommates, p'adners, often connected at the hip... but Dylan and I seemed to exist only in each other's periphery. I always knew him through someone else: either Sue or Jim, Jake and Mike and all the rest of the Reno boys, or Christian and the Vanguard crew. I was always glad to see him, when I saw him, but there were times when I didn't see him much.

I moved away from Portland a little over six years ago. Nicole threw me a send-off party. Dylan was there. I cried most of the night.

Two and a half years ago (last week), I came up to visit. Nicole and her then-roommate Megan hosted a dinner in my honor. They invited my some of my old work friends and some of my old school friends, in addition to the Portland loyal. Dylan was there, too. I think he came with Christian.  

But while Christian peeled off early, Dylan stayed. He was there when the party moved to the Beulahland. And he stayed when that crowd began to thin. I think he was even there when we gathered our things to brave the February cold back to the girls' house.  It didn't surprise me that he came. But it did surprise me that he stayed.

The next day I brought it up with Nicole. "I think he's into you," I said, an unbecoming teenage gossip. She blew me off, chalking it up to Christian and Dylan recently becoming roommates. But that didn't make any sense, especially since Christian left so early. Plus, it didn't seem to explain the new way that Dylan was looking at her. I had noticed it more than once. When he looked at her, he seemed to see her, to listen to her, and to patiently take her in, all at once. It was a marvel to watch.


She ignored me.


A few weeks later, we were talking on the phone when his name came up again. Their paths had been crossing more often.  
"So," I said.  "Dylan."
"What?" she asked.
"Well?"
"What?" she asked. Finally, "It's nothing." And that was the end of that.


I should interject here. Those of you who know Nicole well will recognize the shut down. Nicole's shut down is an admirable force. There is no way possible you will EVER get her to talk about something she doesn't want to talk about, especially if there IS something to talk about. She can, and will, look you dead in the eye, and with a blank face, simply say, "What?" and then turn her back to you. And that is always the end of that. 


Maybe a month later, it was already spring I remember, she called me. We chatted about this and that, probably 45 minutes of filling time (this is also something that Nicole is very good at). Finally, right as I told her I had to go, she said, "So..."
"What?," I asked.
"Dylan Tanner," she said.
"Whoa," I said, and thought about the way he looked at her that night. "Nicole. That's gonna be for real."
"I know," she said. "It is."
"Really? I could not be more happy for you," I said.


That fall, in an email, she wrote, "I am so in love, its not even funny."
"I could not be more happy for you," I wrote back. "Beautiful."


Later, I cheered with her when they found a house. She was down to visit me for my baby shower while Dylan moved them in and painted. I sat holding her hand and told her, "No-no, really, I could not be happier for you." I think we cried a little. 


I said it again when she told me they were engaged. I found myself saying it again and again and again, besting myself, proving myself a liar every few months, because damn it, I could be happier for her, for them, and each time I was. I don't know how, though. I guess they got good at making my heart grow.


And so. 

Last Saturday, I stood under a tree with Jake and Sue and Nate at Nicole and Dylan's wedding reception. We watched Jim give a toast. We watched Holden and Nathan, and Christian, too. I knew I could not. Because, really, I'm a chicken that way. And all I could think of was my 26th birthday party, that Dylan came to with Sue, and how I kept chucking candy hearts into his beer all night, and how angry that made him because he was a vegan and candy hearts have some sort of animal byproduct in them. Every single time, he got up to get a new beer, no matter how full the one in front of him, with the floating candy heart in it, was. But that's not a wedding toast. That's a story about what an ass I can be. 


It took me a long time to go to sleep that night, because all I could think about was Nicole and Dylan, and how he looked at her that night, and all of those times that I couldn't be happier for them, and all of those times that I just kept finding room for more happiness. 


And I cried, and I cried and I cried. 


Dear Nicole and Dylan, I really don't think I could be any happier than I am right now for you. But I am fully prepared to be wrong on that point. And I hope that the next many, many, many years give me one hundred chances to best myself. One hundred opportunities for my heart to grow bigger as your lives together grow more fantastic. And it can, and they will, and I love you. Here's to happy.


xo.