by Ariel Tachna
“Thank you,” Srikkanth said softly. “I’ll send you an email as soon as we pick a date. Have a good day, M, Pit. I love you.”
“Good-bye, betta. Call us soon.”
“That wasn’t too awful, was it?” Jaime asked when Srikkanth put down the phone.
Srikkanth shrugged. “They weren’t thrilled, but they didn’t disown me either, so I guess it’s a success.”
“They asked for a date and offered to come, right?” Jaime verified.
Srikkanth nodded.
“Then it’s definitely a success.”
“Getting a visa is always a pain,” Srikkanth warned. “They might not be able to make it.”
“But they’ll have tried,” Jaime pointed out, “and that’s more than you were expecting. Come on. Let’s go get Sophie and celebrate.”
“It’s going to be next summer before we manage to get married,” Jaime groaned as they carried Sophie back into the house. As he’d predicted, his mother had been over the moon at the news of their impending wedding, promising to make all the arrangements for them.
“We could elope,” Srikkanth suggested, only half joking.
“It’s tempting,” Jaime laughed, “but I’m not sure it’d be worth my mother’s ire.”
“We could set a date and tell her it has to be done by then,” Srikkanth proposed. “If we set it not too far out, she wouldn’t have time to take care of more than the essentials.”
“But that’ll make it harder for your parents to come,” Jaime protested.
“They may not be able to come regardless of when we set the date,” Srikkanth warned. “Because they lived here for a number of years, the USCIS will suspect they’re trying to return here as residents, even if they have return tickets. I’ve seen it multiple times with friends whose parents have returned to India after living here for a time. If they didn’t get citizenship while they were here, they almost never get permission to return, even for weddings, births, and funerals. It’s stupid, but that’s the immigration bureau for you. We have to make the plans that are right for us. We can always go visit them in India some day.”
“Well, it’s September now. We could have a Christmas wedding.”
“New Year’s Day,” Srikkanth countered. “A new year, a new marriage, a new family. What do you think?”
“I think it’s perfect,” Jaime agreed. “I’ll call Mamá later and tell her we’ve picked a date. We’ll have to work fast to find a place to have the reception, but everything else should be relatively straightforward. It’s not like we have to worry about fancy dresses or anything like that.”
“Your mother and sisters do,” Jaime reminded him.
Jaime rolled their eyes. “They’re expert shoppers. They’ll have found something by this weekend once they know what season the wedding will be in.”
“Then the only other big thing is getting invitations out to people,” Srikkanth said. “If we can get a location, we can probably get those printed pretty quickly. Having the invitation might actually help my parents too.” He paused and laughed. “Or not, since it’s two men. Unless they tell the authorities they’re trying to stop the wedding.”
“If the authorities are Indian, they might not realize Jaime is a man’s name,” Jaime said. “It looks a lot like Jamie, and I’ve known some girls by that name.”
“We’ll send the invitation and they can do with it what they want,” Srikkanth decided. “We don’t have to work around their schedule.”
“Send them an email now so they’ll know the date, and this weekend we’ll get on my webcam and call them so they can meet Sophie,” Jaime proposed. “How does that sound?”
“Good,” Srikkanth assented.
“I’m sorry, Srikkanth, betta,” Srikkanth’s mother said when she called back a month later. “The embassy won’t give us a visa. We’re going to go up to Delhi and ask in person in hopes of changing their mind, but I don’t know if we’ll be successful.”
“It’s all right, M,” Srikkanth said. “I didn’t expect you to be able to come. I know how hard it is to get a visa with the way things are right now.”
“It’s not all right,” Srikkanth’s mother insisted, “but in the meantime, we sent a letter to Ashok Chacha. He’s in California. You remember him, don’t you? He’s Pit’s cousin’s brother-in-law, who we stayed with when we first moved to the States.”
“I remember,” Srikkanth replied.
“He and his family are going to come to the wedding. If we can’t be there, it’s the next best thing,” Mrs. Bhattacharya said. “You’ll make sure someone meets him at the airport and gets him to the ceremony, right?”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Srikkanth said, incredibly touched by his mother’s insistence on finding some relation to attend the wedding. He didn’t think she’d ever be happy about his choice, but she had at least accepted, it or she never would have contacted his uncle.
“I raised my children right,” Mrs. Bhattacharya retorted. “You only get married once. If I can’t be there, I want someone there so your—” she paused, and Srikkanth could almost see her working up to saying the word “—fiancé’s family doesn’t think we’ve forsaken you.”
“They don’t feel that way, M,” Srikkanth assured his mother. “They’re immigrants too. Jaime’s parents are here, but his grandparents won’t be at the wedding for the same reason that you won’t be able to make it. If you’ll send me Ashok Chacha’s phone number, I’ll call him and work out all the details with him. I think maybe Jaime’s sister has room for a few people at her house. That way he wouldn’t have to rent a car.”
“You’re a good boy, betta. Kiss the baby for me and come to India soon. We miss you.”
“I miss you too, M. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“What was this about my sister?” Jaime asked, having come into the room at the end of the conversation.
“That was my mother,” Srikkanth explained. “They were denied a visa, but she called my uncle—well, he isn’t really my uncle, but close enough—to have him come to the wedding in their place.”
“One of those husband’s cousin’s husband’s cousin kind of family members?” Jaime asked with a laugh, thinking about all the people in Mexico his parents considered family despite the number of degrees of separation between them.
“My father’s cousin’s brother-in-law to be exact,” Srikkanth agreed. “I do know him, which is more than I can say for some of the people my parents consider family. They helped us out when we first came to the States. He lives in California now, and he’s not young anymore. I thought maybe he could stay with Béatriz. He’ll stay in a hotel if he has to, but well, since he’s the only person from my family who will be here, it’s sort of expected that I find someone for him to stay with if he can’t stay here.”
“He can’t stay here,” Jaime reiterated. “There isn’t an extra bed, for one thing, and I’m not sharing you with anyone on our wedding night. Not even Sophie, and you know if I’m not sharing you with her, I’m not sharing you with your uncle. I’ll talk to Béa on Sunday. I’m sure she’ll agree, but if not, maybe he can stay with Mamá and Alvaro. We’ll start planning a trip to India when we get back from our honeymoon. Maybe next year at Christmas time?”
“That’s the perfect time to go,” Srikkanth said. “It won’t be too hot and the monsoons won’t have started. I really do love you, you know.”
“Then come to bed and prove it to me.”
Chapter 20
The strains of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” resonated through the reception hall as Srikkanth and Jaime approached from opposite entrances, meeting at the head of the aisle between two sets of chairs. Their eyes met and held as their hands sought each other from long habit. Only when they started down the aisle did Srikkanth look away from his soon-to-be husband to let his gaze flow over the assembled guests. He saw his uncle and family near the front, the bright colors of the women’s saris vivid against the quieter hues of the non-Indian guests. He had
a pang for his parents, wishing they could be here, but their attempts at getting a visa had continued to fail. They were here in spirit, he reminded himself, or his mother wouldn’t have contacted Ashok Chacha and asked him to come in their place.
Jaime’s family had turned out en masse, and Srikkanth smiled when he caught sight of Sophie perched on her abuela’s lap. She wasn’t talking much yet, at not quite a year old, but she certainly knew her grandmother, reaching for Señora Frias every time she saw her, and Srikkanth suspected it wouldn’t be long until she managed a credible abue. She bounced up and down as they walked down the aisle, arms opening for them to take her as they passed. Srikkanth paused and bent to kiss her, smile widening as Jaime did the same. They left her with Jaime’s mother, though. As much as they loved her, this moment was about them and their future, not about Sophie. The adoption would be finalized later in the month, but for now, they had a wedding to celebrate.
Arriving before the justice of the peace, Srikkanth took a deep breath and waited for the ceremony to begin, the first day of the rest of his life. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two hearts and two lives to form a new life, a new family. Srikkanth and Jaime have asked you all to be witness to their commitment to each other.”
He turned his attention to the couple. “A marriage is many things, as many as the people who choose to create one. It’s a promise of a life together, a commitment to face the world as a single unit rather than as two individuals. It’s often, as it is in your case, a commitment to raise a family together. It’s a legal bond that provides you with certain rights and responsibilities. Most importantly, though, it’s the union of two hearts, a union from which all those other things come. You stand here today because you wish to make official, legal, the union that already exists. A wedding doesn’t create a relationship; it acknowledges one. When you say your vows today, you’ll be putting into words the silent promises that already exist between you, sharing with your guests the emotions that already exist between you, creating a strong and stable unit to strengthen the fabric of your families and our community. These are the things you are agreeing to do by making your vows today.”
Jaime squeezed Srikkanth’s hand, wanting all those things desperately.
“Usually, this is the moment where I ask the couple to join hands, but since you’ve already taken care of that, I’ll simply ask you to face each other as you say your vows.”
They turned to face one another, their free hands clasping as well. “Jaime, will you say your vows?”
Jaime took a deep breath and began the vows he and Srikkanth had agreed to say. “From this day onward I choose you, Srikkanth, to be my husband. To live together and laugh together; to work by your side and dream in your arms; to fill your heart and feed your soul; to always seek out the best in you; to play with you whenever I can, as we grow old; always loving you with all my heart, until the end of our forever.”
Srikkanth’s eyes closed with the force of emotion that welled up inside him at hearing Jaime’s declaration. He knew to the very fiber of his being that Jaime loved him, but even so, hearing it that way, as a promise of forever, added that much more power to the feelings.
“Srikkanth?” the justice of the peace prompted.
Srikkanth cleared his throat, his voice hoarse as he spoke his vows in return. “From this day onward I choose you, Jaime, to be my husband.” His voice broke as he tried to continue. Jaime squeezed his hands tightly, giving him silent permission to take the moment to recover his composure and the strength to lift his head, meet his husband’s eyes, and continue. “To live together and laugh together; to work by your side and dream in your arms; to fill your heart and feed your soul; to always seek out the best in you; to play with you whenever I can, as we grow old; always loving you with all my heart, until the end of our forever.”
“The ring is one of the oldest symbols of eternity, of unity, known to humanity,” the justice of the peace continued. “With no beginning and no end, it is the perfect whole, the ideal acknowledgment of the union you are creating today. No longer will you be two people, but one couple. No longer will you lead two lives, but one. No longer will you walk alone, but together, relying on each other for love and support in every facet of your lives. So today, you will exchange rings, tokens of your love and symbols of your commitment to one another.”
Alvaro stepped to Jaime’s side, handing him the pair of rings they’d commissioned. Rather than a single gold band, the jeweler had braided a gold and a silver band together to represent the two lives now entwined as one. Jaime held out Srikkanth’s, who lifted his hand so Jaime could put the ring on him.
“Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. Wear it always in the knowledge of our commitment to one another.” Carefully he slid the ring onto Srikkanth’s finger.
When it was in place, he passed his own ring to Srikkanth, who repeated the gesture and the words.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. You’re now married men,” the justice of the peace declared. “You may kiss.”
They leaned toward each other in mutual accord, lips meeting in the final piece of their vows. They didn’t linger, though Jaime was tempted. There would be time later for longer, more intimate kisses. For now, he contented himself with squeezing Srikkanth’s hands still clasped with his own and knowing this was the beginning of forever. When they broke apart amidst thunderous applause, the justice spoke one last time. “It gives me great pleasure to introduce for the first time as married men, Jaime and Srikkanth Bhattacharya-Frias.”
It would take more than the justice’s announcement for the name change to be legal, but neither man cared as they turned to face their guests. Movement in the back of the hall caught Srikkanth’s eye, and he gasped when he realized what the flash of bright red meant. His eyes filled with tears as he stared in shock at his parents, his mother in the heavy red and gold sari his father had given her as part of their wedding thirty years ago. “They’re here,” he whispered to Jaime. “My parents are here!”
Jaime turned to look at Srikkanth, following his gaze to the Indian couple standing behind all the other guests. “Then we’d better go say hello,” he murmured, leading Srikkanth back down the aisle.
Heart pounding, Srikkanth followed Jaime to the back of the ballroom, stopping a few steps from his parents. His mother felt no such hesitation, embracing Srikkanth fervently.
“You made it,” he whispered over and over. “How did you make it?”
“The visa came through at the last minute,” Srikkanth’s father replied, patting his son’s shoulder with one hand and his wife’s with the other. “There wasn’t time to call. We caught the first flight we could, but even then, we barely got here. If we’d missed any of the connections or had any delays, we wouldn’t have made it in time, and we didn’t want to disappoint you even more.”
Their presence was the only thing that could have made Srikkanth happier than he already was, a fact he related to them as soon as he could speak past the lump in his throat. “M, Pit, this is Jaime.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jaime said, folding his hands together and offering them in greeting as Srikkanth had told him to do before introducing him to his uncle.
Mr. Bhattacharya folded his hands over Jaime’s, bowing in a traditional greeting, but Srikkanth’s mother saw no need to stand on formality, folding him into the same warm embrace she had used with Srikkanth. When she stepped back, she fixed them both with a hard stare. “This is not the path I would have chosen for you, betta, I must admit, but you are a grown man and have always shown good judgment. Since this is the path you have chosen, I expect you both to walk it with dignity and fidelity as befits all members of this family.”
“Yes, M,” Srikkanth promised, the tears that had been threatening all day spilling over finally in the joy and relief of his parents’ acceptance.
“We have taken enough of your time. We have a month before we have to return to Hyderabad. We’ll ta
lk more later,” Srikkanth’s father declared. “You have other guests besides us.”
Epilogue
Four years later
“Welcome to Nichols Montessori School. I’m Mrs. Coates. I’ll be your teacher this year. What’s your name?”
Just outside the door—Sophie had insisted on going in by herself—Srikkanth bit his lip as he smothered his laughter. “Sophie Thanaa Bhattacharya-Frias,” the little girl declared proudly. “But you may call me Sophie.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie,” Mrs. Coates said, her voice betraying her surprise at the child’s adult demeanor. “Did your mommy and daddy come with you to get you settled?”
“My mommy died when I was a baby,” Sophie said. “I live with my two dads. They’re outside. I wanted to meet you first.”
Unable to stop his laughter this time, Srikkanth took pity on the teacher and stepped into the classroom. “I’m Sophie’s father, Srikkanth Bhattacharya-Frias,” he said, holding out his hand. “One of them, anyway. As you can see, she’s a bit of a handful.”