I thought I ruined an LGBTQ wedding anniversary but instead was reminded that 'love is love'

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For a moment, I thought I might have ruined dinner with my friends.

Jackie, Kate and I had just sat down when our middle-age server arrived to introduce herself as Kris and handed out menus. I started to tell her that I was to receive the bill, but Kate butted in.

“The bill goes to me,” she said to the server. “I made the reservation. You can check.”

“No, I want this,” I said. “It’s your anniver ...”

I had broken our rule. I looked at the server, but she seemed not to have heard me. She just smiled and nodded at Kate. When she walked away, I immediately apologized. We were at dinner to celebrate Kate and Jackie’s anniversaries – their Ohio commitment ceremony in 1996, and their New York City wedding in 2014.

Bigotry in the open

For decades, we have regularly met for dinner, and they have insisted on just one rule: I am not to mention their marriage when we are out in public. After all these years together, my friends – two of the kindest and most gentle people I know – still worry for their safety.  

In the early days, we tried to joke that we didn’t want anyone spitting in our soup. In recent years, we’ve been more worried about nearby customers who might overhear and become angry, and even aggressive.

It is one thing to be in a same-sex marriage in major cities on the east and west coasts. In other parts of the country, including here in the Midwest, too often it feels risky to be out in the open about your love. We were dining in an area where people have never taken down their Trump yard signs, and some drive pickups festooned with large Trump flags and, sometimes, Confederate flags, too. People are louder these days about their bigotry.

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Friends who became family

After our server left to put in our order, we started talking about the long life Jackie and Kate have built together. Many of the stories were sweet and funny, and I was lucky to be a part of some of them. They merged households just as I was going through a divorce, in 1994. When they saw my wall of empty bookshelves, they packed up all their duplicates – they are both big readers – and delivered them to our new home.

They are friends who long ago became family. Together we have been through countless celebrations and losses, and ridiculously long drives for neighborhood Christmas displays. Jackie knew before I did that one day, I would marry the man who has now been my husband for almost 20 years. Kate was the United Church of Christ minister who guided us through our wedding vows and delivered a sermon at our wedding that was so uplifting I still hear about it from those who were in attendance.

Their wedding was in New York City because, in 2014, Ohio still did not recognize same-sex marriage. When they exchanged vows, Sherrod and I cried. They had waited so long. But even in liberal New York City, Kate hesitated to hold hands with Jackie for wedding photographs outside. Her fear may have been unfounded, but it was forged in horrible truths.

Less than a year later, on Kate’s birthday, the U.S. Supreme Court made same-sex marriage the law of the land. I will never forget that day. Sherrod and I called each other at the same time and were kicked to voicemail. We cleared our schedules and headed downtown to meet Jackie and Kate at the celebration outside Cleveland City Hall. Only during dinner this week did I learn they were worried for our safety that day. Not everyone was celebrating, Kate reminded me.

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'It's their wedding anniversary'

We had finished dinner and were waiting for the check when Kris, our server, sidled up to the table again and chirped, “Did I hear someone is celebrating an anniversary?”

She was talking to three women. There was no mistaking her intention, or her smile. I pointed to Jackie and Kate and said, “Yes, it’s their wedding anniversary.”

“You get a free dessert,” Kris said, and she rattled off their options.

We stayed.

In that busy dining room, full of people we did not know, we stayed for dessert to celebrate the wedding anniversary of Jackie and Kate. 

'Celebrate every chance we get'

Afterwards, we were almost out the door when I asked Kate and Jackie to wait for just a minute. I roamed the restaurant until I found Kris. I introduced myself as a columnist this time and thanked her for celebrating my friends’ anniversary.

“Here in Trump country,” I added.

She nodded and smiled.

“Well, it doesn’t matter where we are, does it? Love is love, and we should celebrate every chance we get. If we would all do that, think how better off we’d be.”

Happy anniversary, dear Kate and Jackie.

Happy anniversary, out loud.

Paste BN columnist Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize winner whose novel, “The Daughters of Erietown,” is a New York Times bestseller. You can reach her at CSchultz@usatoday.com or on Twitter: @ConnieSchultz

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