Oh, I suppose I should say something about their wedding gowns, for those of you who are interested in that sort of thing. They're both white, but Lisa's is all frilly and lacy, and Brenda's isn't. That's about all I'm equipped to tell you.
Nate shows up at this point, looking for his suit jacket. Or maybe for his wife. Whatever the case, he's found them both at the same time. To his eyes, Brenda is just staring out at the ocean all French Lieutenant's Woman and shit. He comes up behind her and asks if she's okay. She's not, because her Ghost-Lisa-embodied guilt and self-loathing have really gotten to her. She says she understands now why Nate wanted to postpone the wedding rather than let her go ahead with everything, as she says, "Just to prove that I deserve my own special fucking day, which I don't." Nate tries to calm her down, but she's off on a stemwinder of self-pity: "The only way I get to get married in a long white gown is to have my dead baby leaking out of me all day. That's me. That's what I get for my wedding." And that's why we had the whole scheduling scene in the OB/GYN's office, so that Brenda could say that line right now. Nate ventures that maybe drinking isn't such a good idea when she's this upset, but she says that the glass of champagne is "the only thing in my universe right now." "You have me," Nate says without rancor as Brenda drains the glass and throws it over the hedge at the Pacific. "You don't really fucking want me," Brenda says, "not that I blame you. Who would?" "I do," Nate says. Nice touch there, since that's the first time we've heard either of them say that at their wedding. "Then you're a very disturbed person," Brenda diagnoses. "Maybe," agrees Nate. She tells him not to be nice to her and when he offers to hit her, she says, "That would feel fucking fantastic." Instead, Nate pulls her into an embrace. "I'm disturbed, I'm not violent," he explains. "You were when you threw your ring at me," she reminds him. "Ah, memories," he sighs. And then he says that he's glad today sucked: "Because I wouldn't want the happiest day of our life to be over already, would you?" I'm kind of enjoying this new Nate who always says exactly the right thing to Brenda. I'm sure I'd get bored with him eventually, but I'm also sure he'll be long gone before that happens.
Later, applause welcomes the newlyweds onto the dance floor to the music of a xylophone jazz band that I'm not going to name, because they went right to our forums and started pimping themselves as soon as the show ended. Ma Chenowith and Olivier show as much respect for the traditional first dance as they do for other traditions when they also hit the floor almost immediately, Ma draping her big fur stole around Olivier's neck. At Claire and Billy's table, she now looks quite a bit more unhappy than he does. Keith leads David onto the floor and they start cutting a rug; luckily, slow dancing is more his forte, and he's totally getting a charge out of this moment. George smiles at Ruth to see them so happy together (or perhaps he's snickering because all of his knowledge of gay people got zapped right out of his melon), but she's busy staring at the tablecloth in mute despair. Nate looks over Brenda's shoulder at the wedding cake, which is at this moment is being pecked at by a seagull for some symbolic reason. There was all manner of debate about the bird's significance, but all I know about seagulls is that when one of them finds a snack, more are sure to follow. It won't be long before there's an entire flock of them. Which can only mean one thing: Nate, run! Run so far away! Run all night and day! You've got to get away! Claire gets one last photo: a telephoto close-up of Nate's confused, concerned face.