A More Perfect Union
Page 23
And it might already be too late. Jay wasn’t sure the man would ever understand how much harm he’d just done to his son and to their relationship.
To his immense relief, Rick replied, Anything you need, soon-to-be-bro-in-law. Just tell me where to stand.
Chapter Seventeen
WALLACE WAS a nervous wreck, and his legs wanted to give out from under him when the theme from Somewhere in Time began and his friend Clark opened the door into the ballroom. They were entering from the garden balcony, and across the room, the door to the hallway opened and he saw Jay enter.
He looked amazing. Wallace felt awkward in a tux, as he felt in just about any clothing—or out of clothing, for that matter. But Jay seemed suited to it. He could have been a gentleman from the nineteenth century, popping by the year 2010 for tea before the parking meter expired on his time machine. His eyes immediately found Wallace, and he smiled.
They met in the middle of the room and turned to face the altar at the far end. Adrastia stood directly in front of it, elegant in a custom-made green Victorian gown that set off her red hair. On either side of the aisle were over seventy people. Wallace couldn’t believe that many had accepted the invite on short notice, and nearly all of them were dressed in Victorian regalia. Some was more steampunk than authentic, but that hardly mattered. One friend had dressed Indian—as in, from the country of India—but he’d argued it was correct for the time period. Which was true. Similarly, a friend from Nigeria had dressed in a brightly colored Nigerian robe. He claimed to be a visiting diplomat.
Jay’s parents were dressed in contemporary but respectable formal attire, but his brother was standing behind Jay in a Victorian tux. His wife was standing with Jay’s parents in a Victorian dress she’d somehow wrangled from the theater department in the school where she taught. Rick, to Wallace’s delight, had also managed to dress appropriately. The gods only knew where he’d found the suit, but though it wasn’t a tux, it was Victorian—complete with a bowler hat—and it looked wonderful on him.
Wallace had never loved his brother more than he did at that moment.
Since neither of them was the “bride,” and it would have seemed odd to have both grooms just standing at the altar without the pomp and circumstance of the bridal procession, they’d opted to walk up the aisle arm in arm, with the best men trailing behind. As the string quartet began to play “Canon in D,” Wallace cocked an elbow, and Jay slipped his hand through it. Wallace felt as if he might lose it at any moment. Jay seemed a bit more together, but his eyes were glistening.
Jay smiled at him and nodded slightly, and they walked together up the aisle.
IT WAS a pagan ceremony in part, with invocations to the Norse gods Frey and Freyja. They were brother and sister but strongly associated with sexuality—in Frey’s case, homosexuality—fertility, and prosperity. Jay and Wallace weren’t really interested in being fertile, but sexual and prosperous sounded appealing. Wallace had always had a close affinity to Freyja, and the temple he’d contracted their friend to build in the yard was nearly finished. The moment it was complete, they intended to consecrate it… naked.
They weren’t doing the ceremony skyclad or anything the guests might find disturbing, but still Jay glanced at his parents, concerned they might be squirming as Adrastia called the quarters and invited the guardians of the elements to watch over him and Wallace. His mother was crying and dabbing at her eyes discreetly, but she was smiling. And his stepfather, the Baptist minister, was beaming proudly.
“Repeat after me,” Adrastia told him. “I, Jayson Corey, take you, Wallace Leopold….”
“I, Jayson Corey, take you, Wallace Leopold….”
They continued through the vow, Jayson echoing her and placing the ring of white gold on Wallace’s finger.
“To be my lawfully wedded husband,
“To have and to hold, from this day forward,
“For better or for worse,
“For richer or for poorer,
“In sickness and in health,
“Until death do us part.”
When it was Wallace’s turn, his voice broke after the word “husband,” and he had to take a moment, but Jay held his hands and tried to convey through his smile how much he adored him. The thought that this normally taciturn man could almost fall apart at this moment seemed… adorable. And beautiful.
Wallace cleared his throat and managed to get through the vow, ending with, “Until death do us part.”
“You may kiss.”
They did, while everyone applauded.
“May I present to you all,” Adrastia announced loudly, “Jayson Corey and Wallace Leopold—husband and husband!”
Chapter Eighteen
THEY HAD told everyone not to bring wedding gifts. They’d combined two kitchens’ worth of dishes and just bought all the furnishings they wanted. They had little need for more. But of course some people brought gifts anyway. They were stacked neatly on a small table, alongside a beautiful hardcover book that detailed the history of the hotel. This is what they used as a guest book, encouraging people to sign and write notes on any of the pages inside.
Wallace and Jay stood outside the Grand Ballroom, shaking hands with the guests as they entered for the reception and exchanging hugs and kisses. Then, once all of the guests were inside, Jay took Wallace’s arm again and escorted him into the ballroom.
It was amazing. The Garden Ballroom had been nice but somewhat modern. Now, as the hotel event coordinator introduced them, they stepped back in time to 1912—a magnificent Victorian ballroom with high chandeliers and a burgundy oriental carpet, filled nearly to capacity with men and women in suits and gowns from the period. Though this was an alternate history—one in which two men could walk arm and arm as husbands.
And rather than inspiring disgust and causing heads to turn away in embarrassment, they were greeted with applause.
“WE SHOULD have rehearsed more,” Wallace muttered.
“Keep smiling,” Jay said cheerfully, “and follow my lead. One, two, three. One, two, three.”
They danced in time to the waltz while their guests looked on in amusement. Wallace was right. They should have rehearsed more. Wallace was stiff and awkward, nearly stumbling over Jay’s feet. Jay had waltzed before—a long time ago—but he wasn’t very good. Certainly not good enough to lead a partner with no experience at all.
But it didn’t matter. It was their first dance as a married couple, in front of a ballroom full of friends and family, and it was perfect.
“Just a few more steps,” Jay assured his husband, “and then we can sit down again.”
But that wasn’t to be. The moment the music stopped, Wallace breathed a sigh of relief, and a room full of clinking champagne glasses induced them to kiss. But as they turned to walk back to their table, Jay’s stepfather suddenly swooped in and grabbed Wallace by the hand.
“Oh no, you don’t! I still have to have my dance!”
Wallace gave Jay one helpless glance before he was spirited away to the strains of “Voices of Spring.” Jay turned to find his mother waiting patiently beside him, so he took her hand and escorted her into the middle of the dance floor.
At the end of that waltz, he was startled when Rick swept him up for the next dance. Jay glanced around and was delighted to see many of his guests dancing in same-sex couples, whether they were gay or straight. It was very sweet.
“Thank you so much,” he told his new brother-in-law, “for stepping in at the last moment. It meant a lot to Wallace.”
Rick smiled but answered seriously, “Not a problem, man. Just… you know… take good care of him.”
“Is this the if-you-ever-hurt-him speech?”
Rick laughed. “Maybe. Though I’m not likely to break your legs or anything. Just… you know. Don’t.”
“I won’t.” Hadn’t he just promised to care for Wallace for the rest of their lives in front of the gods and a roomful of people? Jay couldn’t conceive of ever wanting to hur
t him. But he had no problem reiterating it. “I swear.”
WALLACE WAS finally able to escape their guests—seventy wonderful wedding guests had become a ravening horde in his mind the moment they’d begun passing him from one person to the next for dances—and staggered back to the table. Jay was sitting there already, and Wallace glared at him as he plopped down onto his seat.
“You lied to me. You said there would just be one dance.”
“Can I help it if you’re adorable and everyone wants to waltz with you?”
“Gods! It was like that story where someone puts on a pair of cursed ballerina slippers and can’t stop dancing!”
Jay poured him some more champagne. “You need another drink, my love. I think the worst of it is over.” Despite his words, he was beaming as if this was the best time he’d ever had.
And Wallace had to admit it was, despite how challenging it was to his introverted nature. He took a sip of the champagne. They hadn’t opted for the most expensive brand, but it was significantly better than others he’d tasted.
“What’s left on the agenda?”
“Not much. I think we just have to cut the cake.”
Wallace looked at him suspiciously. “You promised not to smear it in my face. You remember that, right?”
“Are you mad?” Jay exclaimed in horror. “These tuxes cost a fortune!”
“Just checking.”
Jay smiled and leaned in for a kiss, and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of silverware tinkling against champagne glasses. He sighed. “I hope nobody breaks their glasses. The hotel will probably charge us a thousand dollars apiece for them.”
“Then you’d better make the kiss worth it,” Wallace said, and he pulled his husband in close.
Epilogue
TWO YEARS later—after the Rockford town clerk’s office had mysteriously “never received” the signed documentation for Jay and Wallace’s marriage and made them fill it out again, and after they’d spent a day in Concord protesting yet another attempt to overturn same-sex marriage in New Hampshire—Jay finally persuaded Wallace to accept one of the invitations to his father’s house. The man had invited them to go there for holidays several times, but Wallace had steadfastly ignored him.
It wasn’t that Jay had any great love for his father-in-law. And he certainly didn’t blame Wallace for shunning him. But he also knew Wallace was still fuming about it, and it was still tearing him up inside. Jay wanted them to at least start talking again for Wallace’s sake, if nothing else.
It was an awkward Thanksgiving dinner. Mr. Leopold put on a forced cheerfulness and acted as if nothing had changed since the last time they’d gotten together. He was friendly to Jay, as always, though he couldn’t quite look him in the eye.
When one of the other guests—an old family friend, apparently—shook Jay’s hand and introduced himself as Frank, Wallace’s father said, “Jay is… Wallace’s partner.”
Jay would have let it slide, but Wallace’s nostrils flared, and he said curtly, “Husband.”
“They were married a couple Novembers ago,” Mr. Leopold added, as if he’d meant to say that all along.
Frank seemed oblivious to the tension between father and son. “Really? That’s interesting. One of my coworkers just married his partner last summer.”
ON THE car ride home, Wallace muttered, “Well, that was fun.”
“He’ll come around eventually. He just needs more time to process it.”
Wallace sighed. “I suppose. But he should have sucked it up and been there. He could have processed it all he wanted—after the wedding.”
“I know.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Then Wallace reached across the CD holder and took his hand. “I’m glad you twisted my arm and made me go.”
“I didn’t twist your arm. I just suggested going.”
Wallace quirked up a corner of his mouth. “Well, anyway… I don’t want to spend the rest of my life not talking to him. Even though he deserves it.”
“He could have been worse,” Jay pointed out. There were definitely gay couples dealing with more hostility from their parents than a refusal to go to the wedding.
“True,” Wallace said.
He continued to hold his husband’s hand as they rode through the night, thinking it might be chilly enough to warrant starting the pellet stove when they got home. Or maybe even start a fire in the fireplace. Then he and Jay could curl up in front of it with some cocoa, their dog snoozing at their feet. No doubt the cats would wedge themselves in somewhere.
It was a simple life, despite the gaudy ostentatiousness of their wedding. They weren’t the kind of guys who wanted expensive cars or Italian suits or wall-to-wall entertainment systems. They just wanted… cozy. And they wanted to be with each other. Wallace was perpetually baffled that he had to keep fighting so hard for that—against his father, against narrow-minded assholes in the state legislature, against people who didn’t want to do business with him and town clerks who’d made it difficult to register their dog two years in a row, because someone kept “accidentally” forgetting to list them as a household in the computer, as opposed to two friends living together.
But as he glanced over at Jay’s handsome face and received a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand, he knew it was worth the fight.
JAMIE FESSENDEN set out to be a writer in junior high school. He published a couple of short pieces in his high school’s literary magazine, but it wasn’t until he met his partner, Erich, almost twenty years later, that he began writing again in earnest. With Erich alternately inspiring and goading him, Jamie published his first novella in 2010, and has since published over twenty other novels and novellas.
After legally marrying in 2010, buying a house together, and getting a dog, Jamie and Erich have settled down to life in the country, surrounded by wild turkeys, deer, and the occasional coyote. A few years ago, Jamie was able to quit the tech support job that gave him insanely high blood pressure. He now writes full-time… and feels much better.
Visit Jamie: jamiefessenden.wordpress.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Jamie-Fessenden-Author/102004836534286
Twitter: @JamieFessenden1
By Jamie Fessenden
Billy’s Bones
The Christmas Wager
Dogs of Cyberwar
The Healing Power of Eggnog
A More Perfect Union (Multiple Author Anthology)
Murder on the Mountain
Murderous Requiem
Saturn in Retrograde
Screwups
Violated
We’re Both Straight, Right?
GOTHIKA
Claw (Multiple Author Anthology)
Stitch (Multiple Author Anthology)
Bones (Multiple Author Anthology)
Spirit (Multiple Author Anthology)
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Someday
By B.G. Thomas
Lucas Arrowood is walking to school on his first day of kindergarten when he meets Dalton Churchill—a boy who stops and helps him tie his shoe. He knows from that moment he is going to marry that boy one day. “Boys can’t marry other boys,” his mother explains, but that doesn’t stop Lucas. He knows what he wants.
He and Dalton become best friends. And then, no matter how much he resists, Dalton falls in love with Lucas. Dalton’s very conservative family can’t accept that their boy loves another boy, but finally Dalton stands up for love and for Lucas. Still, he declares he won’t marry Lucas until it is legal everywhere. He hates the “commitment ceremonies” gay men have. They aren’t the real thing. Why bother?
So Lucas waits for his day. The day same-sex marriage finally becomes legal and he can be joined forever with the love of his life.
This one is, of course, for my legally wedded husband, Raymond.
My knight in shining armor.
Who says I saved him too.
I love you with all my heart!
Acknowledgments
THANKS ARE due to a number of people. My daughter, Jayli. My dear friend Dani Elle Maas for all things Dutch. This couldn’t have been done right without lots of help from Renae Kaye—thank you. Thanks to Noah Willoughby and Jan Valdez and so many others for their research help. And of course to Andi, Nicole, Jason, Brian and Stacia for all you did to make this story the best it could be.
And I want to give a very special thanks to Jamie, Scott, and Michael for joining me in this anthological endeavor. It wouldn’t have happened without you.
And I must not forget the Freedom to Marry website. Simply wow!
1991
1
THE FIRST time Lucas Arrowood saw Dalton was on his way to his first day of kindergarten. His mother was walking him to school, he was very excited, and his right shoelace was flopping, untied.
“Baby,” said his mom. “Let’s sit down and try to tie your shoe.”
He looked up at her, excitement temporarily quashed. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t tie his shoe. And he was supposed to be able to. His mother had tried to show him how—over and over again—but he couldn’t get the laces to go where they were supposed to go, and it just fell apart. He couldn’t do it. If his teacher found out, would they make him go home? Would he have to wait until next year? That would be horrible!