"Queer Identities" -- Chapter 97 "When My Boy Walks Down the Street"
A Very Special Episode of "Queer Identities."
No kidding.
This is Chapter 97 in the "Queer Identities" series.
The narrator is Brian Kinney, and features Justin Taylor, Dorian Folco, Diane Rhys, Leslie Marn, Jennifer Taylor, Molly Taylor, Others.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: The Plunge. San Francisco, February 20, 2004.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. This is for fun, not profit. Enjoy.
Earlier "QI" chapters online and on the LJ are here:
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaelmcgear/Gaedhalficpage.html
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaedhal/
Most recent "QI" chapters on the LJ are here:
Ch. 94 "Bird on the Wire"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/438195.html
Ch. 95 "Like a Rose"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/439245.html
Ch. 96 "Impromptu"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/439677.html
By Gaedhal
"Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street.
There are whole new kinds of weather when he walks with his new beat.
Everyone sings hallelujah when my boy walks down the street.
Life just kind of dances through you from your smile down to your feet.
Amazing! he's a whole new form of life!
Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife.
The world does the hula-hula when my boy walks down the street.
Everyone thinks he's Petula so big and yet so petite.
Butterflies turn into people when my boy walks down the street.
Maybe he should be illegal, he just makes life too complete.
Amazing, he's a whole new form of life!
Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife..."
***
What the fuck can I say?
"Surprise, Sunshine."
But he doesn't smile.
"We need to talk, Brian. Now."
And he grabs my tie and starts pulling me.
"Hey! That's a $200 Italian silk tie!"
"You have fifteen more just like it at home. So shut up!" He stops a waiter. "Where's the men's room?"
The guy points down a hallway near the kitchen. And that's where Justin drags me.
"We don't have time to fuck," I say as he pushes me inside and locks the door. "Our guests are waiting."
"When were you going to tell me?" he demands. "No, you obviously weren't going to tell me. I'm surprised you didn't blindfold and gag me until we got to wherever the ceremony is supposed to take place."
"City Hall," I say. "You may have heard on the news about all the fag marriages they're performing there."
He closes his eyes like he's counting to ten. "Brian, what were you thinking?"
What was I thinking? I still don't know. Except that this is something I want to do -- I have to do. And I think Justin wants to do it, too. I know he wants to do it. He's just being a little stubborn because it wasn't his idea.
I admit there were a million times I could have told him in the past week. And I wanted to tell him. I should have told him before I called Dorian and Diane with my crazy plans. Before I had Leslie make the reservations. Before I called his mother and told her to buy dresses for herself and Molly because they were coming to San Francisco to watch Justin get hitched.
I should have told him Tuesday night after he fucked me. I should have told him this morning on the plane. In the shower. In the elevator on our way down from the suite.
But it was never the right time. Never the perfect moment. Whatever the fuck the perfect moment would be.
"I should have told you," I mumble. "I'm an idiot. I admit it."
"Told me?" he says. "You should have ASKED me! Ever think about that? No! You just go ahead and do what you want to do! And I'm supposed to go along. Does that remind you of anyone, Brian? You hated it when Dr. Dave did that to Michael."
He's right, of course. But with one difference. One big, fucking difference.
"David and Michael were a disaster waiting to happen. That's why it was wrong. David never loved Michael -- he just wanted to control him. But I love you," I tell him. "And you love me. I didn't ask because..." And then I stop. Because maybe I don't really know. Or don't want to say.
"Because what?" His voice is much softer.
"Because you might have said 'no' -- and then I'd have lost my nerve. I never could have said it again. I had to do it this way because I'm a fucking coward. It's the only way I could be sure that... that..."
"That I'd do it?" he asks.
"Yes." It's that simple. And that horribly complicated. "This was the right moment. Like Stonewall. Like Harvey Milk. I was afraid every fucking minute that some fucking judge would stop it before we got here. That they'd shut it all down and we'd lose that... that perfect time. So you had to do it now. You couldn't say no."
"So is this some publicity stunt?" His face is hard. "Or some political statement? Is this about your ego, Brian? Or is this about us?"
How can I explain? I've always said I was never part of some community. The Lone Wolf, never giving a shit about anyone else. But that was never true. It's always been a fucking pose. Ask Michael. Ask Lindsay. Even ask Deb, who has a pretty low opinion of my actions in general. But watching all those interviews Ron did with all those men -- most of them now dead, including Vic -- they believed in something bigger than themselves. They were queers and they weren't afraid to tell the world that they deserved respect. They deserved rights. They deserved to have everything they wanted, even when the straight world only wished they would shut the fuck up, go away, hide their faces. But they refused to hide. They refused to go away. They refused to shut up. Instead they only said it louder.
"It's about everything. It's about showing the world that we're fucking partners. That domestic partnership form we signed -- what the fuck was that? A crummy piece of paper to put in a drawer. I don't want you to be put in a drawer, Justin, no matter how many homophobic pricks think you should be -- and that includes all the homophobic gay ones! I don't want us to be put in a fucking drawer. So, yes, this is a statement. Yes, it's political. Yes, it's about history. And it's about my ego, too. Because it's about what I want. And I want you. I want to be married -- to you."
He looks mystified. "But you hate marriage! You've always hated marriage!"
He's making sense, which always means I'm fucked. "And I didn't believe in love, either. Or queers having kids. Or living together like straight people in a house with a swimming pool and a fucking picnic table. I didn't believe in any of those things. Until I did. And now I do."
He leans his head against me. "Brian..."
"And I didn't believe I would ever die," I whisper. "Or that I would ever be sick, or weak, or depend on someone else to take care of me. I never believed I could get cancer. I thought I was invincible. But what I really was was terrified of life. So I fucked and drank and drugged myself into a stupor, always telling myself that when life got too much for me to take I could always kill myself and no one would ever give a shit."
"I give a shit," he says.
"I know. And so do a lot of other people, including my friends. And my kids. I never thought I was worthy to be loved. I never thought my mother loved me, or my old man. But then... one person loved me -- Michael. And then another -- Ron. And another -- Tim. And Vic. And Deb. And Lindsay. And I loved them, too. I didn't want to think about it, but it was true. And then someone else loved me -- and that scared me shitless. He was so persistent. So brave. He could see through me like I was a pane of glass. So I ran away. I ran -- but he wouldn't let me get away."
"I know," he says. "I'm like that. Like a rash on your balls."
"Worse, because there's no cure. Someone like that -- you have to take seriously. You have to do something big. The grand, beautiful gesture. The beau geste."
"In other words, you want to make an honest man of me."
"No," I correct him. "I want you to make me the honest man. I talk the talk, but now it's time to walk the walk."
He nods. And then he kneels down on the men's room floor.
"Stop! There's no time to blow me, Justin. Besides, I can't get it up."
"Maybe later," he says, taking my hand. "Brian Aloysius Kinney, will you do me the honor of being my husband?"
The fucking little twat! He always beats me to the punch.
"Only if you promise never to say my middle name aloud again as long as you live."
"I promise."
I pull him to his feet. "Then yes. I'll be your fucking husband."
There's a tentative knock on the men's room door. "Brian? Justin? Are you coming out? Because we only have time for a quick lunch before we're scheduled to be at City Hall."
"One minute, Dorian," I call. "We're working out a few details."
"That's what I'm afraid of. I don't want the management of this fine hotel to have the happy couple arrested for... for whatever you're doing in there."
"Go away, Dorian. We'll meet you at the table." I hear a heavy sigh as Dorian walks away. I smooth down Justin's hair. It feels like golden silk against my fingers. "You are ready to do this? Really?"
"Yes," he says. "Are you?"
I take a deep breath. "Strangely enough, I am."
***
Leslie, jewel that she is, has made all the arrangements. A stretch limo is waiting in front of the hotel and we have an appointment with one of the clerks for 2:00.
"It's raining!" Molly cries. "My new dress!"
"It's only a little drizzle," says Jennifer. "Put on your coat, honey."
"Are you cold?" I ask Justin as we get into the car.
"No, I'm not cold at all." He's grinning. "I feel great."
"So do I."
As we drive Justin scribbles on a pad of paper. "What are you doing?"
"Writing my vows."
I try to grab the pad away. "I worked on those fucking vows for days, you little twat!"
"Those are your vows, Brian. Now I want to write my own. So back off, old man."
"Hurry up, Justin," Leslie urges. "We only have a few minutes."
"I'm hurrying. But I want to be able to read the things!"
There's a huge crowd around City Hall, with masses of people in line and even more sightseers.
"Oh, dear," says Diane. "Are we going to get in there?"
"They're waiting for us inside," says Leslie. "It's all set."
But Dorian is nervous. "Are you sure there won't be a riot if we jump the queue?"
"Well," I say. 'We'll find out in a minute."
A man and woman are waiting on the sidewalk. The woman is the liaison with the mayor's office and the man is the photographer Leslie hired. But there are also a bunch of reporters. Someone has tipped them off that something big is going to happen. They see the limo and immediately go on alert.
Leslie gets out first, followed by Jennifer and Molly, the official flower girl with a basket of rose petals. Leslie has small bouquets for the women. Then Dorian exits and hands out Diane. The crowd immediately recognizes her. "Look! That's Diane Rhys!" And the cameras click away.
Now they're waiting. They know it isn't Diane who is getting married.
My throat is dry as the Sahara. I've never needed a good stiff drink more. "Are you ready, Sunshine?" I croak.
He's ridiculously calm. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"You better be, twat, because I'm only doing this once in my fucking life!"
Justin laughs as we get out of the car. That's when all hell breaks loose.
All I can hear is screaming. It sounds like seagulls and surf. The reporters push forward, but security holds them back. It feels like a long walk up to the domed City Hall, even though it's only a short climb up the steps. People are yelling, "Brian Kinney!" I also hear, "Justin! Brian and Justin!"
The drizzle starts again. "Fabulous! My suit will be ruined," I huff as a drop goes right in my eye.
"I don't care if it snows!" says Justin, grinning from ear to ear. And he waves to the throng like a member of the fucking Royal Family.
We're inside. There's a giant rotunda that looks like something in the Vatican with a long sweeping staircase to the second floor. This lobby teams with couples getting married in every corner. It's like a marriage convention. Some are wearing jeans and tee shirts, while others are in full wedding gear, white dresses and tuxes, surrounded by family and friends. Two hippie lesbians in peasant blouses are singing to each other while another hippie strums a guitar.
"This is insane!" Diane shouts over the din. But I can tell she loves it.
We're ushered into a private office where we have to fill out papers. Luckily, Leslie is prepared with all our I.D. and the money for the ceremony. Then they lead us to the County Clerk's Office to pick up the license. Leslie hands the clerk $13. The photographer snaps a picture of me with a stunned look on my face.
Everywhere we walk people are congratulating us. "Not so fast," I warn. "We haven't done the deed yet!"
"This way," says the liaison. "We're going to the International Room in the mayor's suite. You can have your ceremony there in private. One thing -- the woman who was going to do your ceremony has been delayed, but another person has graciously volunteered. He was here to do a wedding for two women in his congregation, but he can do civil weddings, too."
"Whatever the fuck. It's fine with us."
We go into the room and there is a tall, imposing man with a full grey beard and yarmulke. "Shalom! I'm Rabbi Chaim Grossman. I'll be performing your ceremony. It's my way of doing a mitzvah for all you fine people."
Justin is delighted. "Cool!"
"Pleased to meet you," I say, giving him the print-out of our vows. "We have everything you need right here."
"Wonderful, Mr. Kinney! And this is your partner?"
"Justin Taylor." Justin pumps his hand. "We're getting married! We're really doing it!"
"I'll do the best I can," the rabbi laughs. "My weddings always stick."
"Good to know." Everyone is looking at us, expectantly. "Well... Let's get this show on the road."
Molly jumps up and down, clapping. Jennifer is already sobbing.
And then we stand in front of the rabbi. This is actually fucking happening.
"Dear friends," he begins, only glancing at the print-out. He's a pro. He knows how to do this in his sleep. "We have come together in the presence of these witnesses to join together Brian and Justin. Marriage was ordained for mutual companionship, help, comfort, and love, that no human being should go upon this journey of life alone, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into this manner of life Brian and Justin have now come to be joined. Please join hands, gentlemen."
And I take his hand in mine.
"Brian, will you have Justin as your husband, to live together? Will you love him, cherish him, honor and protect him, in sickness and in health, and be faithful to him in your heart, as long as you both shall love each other?"
My mouth is moving. And the words are coming out. "I... I will."
"And Justin, will you have Brian as your husband, to live together? Will you love him, cherish him, honor and protect him, in sickness and in health, and be faithful to him in your heart, as long as you both shall love each other?"
"I will," he says.
Rabbi Grossman nods. "Now please recite the vows you each have written."
I'm up first. I downloaded a ton of examples off the web, combining and editing and moving things around, until I finally found the words that felt right to me.
"Before these witnesses I, Brian, vow to love you, Justin, and care for you. I take you, with all your faults and your strengths, as I offer myself to you with all my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I want to spend my life, no apologies, no excuses, and no regrets."
Diane snorts at that. "Good one, Bridie!"
But Justin is smiling. He takes out his vows, the ones he scribbled in the limo. "And before these witnesses I, Justin, promise to you, Brian, to be there when you need me, to fill your days with sunshine, to comfort you and encourage you, to always be your friend and lover, and to love you with all my heart for the rest of my life."
Diane nudges Dorian, who steps forward. "As the Best Man I would like to recite a short poem, if you don't mind?"
This is a surprise. But Justin nods. So I say, "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."
Dorian coughs nervously. He's more nervous than I am, it seems. Because he's the next sucker in line to do this. And then he reads from a small leather book of Shakespeare's sonnets:
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Lover alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
"Nicely done," says the rabbi. "May we have the rings, please?"
Diane, our Maid of Honor, takes the velvet box out of her bag and opens it. Platinum, very simple, with 'Brian + Justin' and the date '2-20-04' engraved in the inside of each one. Justin hasn't seen them before. I got his size from Jennifer -- he had a class ring from St. James that he apparently ordered before he was bashed, but never wore. I don't think his fingers have gotten any fatter since then. I hope not.
Diane put little tabs on each one so she'd know which was which. She hands Justin's to the rabbi, who gives it to me. Then he points to the words I'm supposed to say. I ought to know this by heart -- after all, I've read them over about a hundred times. But I still fucking stumble. The print is too fuzzy. I think I need glasses.
"Justin, may this... this ring be a permanent reminder of our promise and steadfast... love. With this ring I... I wed you, with my mind and heart and body I worship you, with all that I am and all that I have."
Thank God it slips on his finger without a glitch. A perfect fit. He stares at it for a moment, like he can't believe it. You're not the only one, Sunshine!
Then it's my turn to get the ring. He doesn't stumble at all. "Brian, may this ring be a permanent reminder of our promise and steadfast love. With this ring I wed you, with my mind and heart and body I worship you, with all that I am and all that I have."
Mine fits, too. I haven't worn a ring in years -- not since high school when I used to wear a cheap silver thing with a skull on it -- but it feels right.
"Brian and Justin," the rabbi continues. "May they surely perform and keep the vow and covenant made between them, of which this ring given and received is a token and pledge, and may they ever remain in perfect love and peace together, as long as they both shall love each other. Brian and Justin have now witnessed to their mutual consent before this company, they have pledged their solemn word to each other, and they have confirmed it by the giving and receiving of rings and by the joining of hands. And so by virtue of the authority vested in me by the state of California, I therefore declare them to be husbands and eternal partners. Mazel Tov!"
Molly starts throwing rose petals around and everyone is kissing us -- even the rabbi.
"I always knew it," Diane smirks. "Bridie makes a beautiful bride!"
"I'm not the fucking bride!" I insist.
"Think again," says Diane. "Justin is the real husband in this relationship -- the macho man who is willing to punch out anyone to defend your honor. While you, La Diva, are the high maintenance bitch in the house."
"Shut the fuck up!" I tell her. "Excuse my French."
But, as usual, she's right. In fact, for us in bed lately she doesn't know how right she is.
"We're both equal," Justin states. "And that's that. All that crap about who's the husband and who's the wife is so 2001!"
The rabbi is talking to Dorian and Diane. I wonder if Dorian is locking in the guy for their own ceremony? It would be just like Dorian to pull out a rabbi at this point in his life.
Then Rabbi Grossman comes over to me and Justin and shakes our hands. "An amazing day!"
"You said a mouthful, Padre." I'm not sure what the nickname for a rabbi is, but he doesn't seem to mind.
He raises a bushy eyebrow. "But now comes the hard part, gentlemen."
Justin is all attention. "Yes?"
"This was the easy thing -- the wedding ceremony."
"Not when you're a queer," I point out. "The government is itching to shut us down."
"I agree, Mr. Kinney," he says. "This day has been long overdue. But it's only a symbolic moment. That's the thing to remember. The wedding is over, but the marriage is only beginning."
"I know," I say, squeezing Justin's left hand. I can feel his ring digging into my skin. "I fucking know. It's only the beginning."
***
"Oh, shadows of echoes of memories,
Oh, things that he brings that he found in the sea,
Oh, shadows of echoes of memories of songs,
Oh, how could he know that it won't be long.
Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street.
There are whole new kinds of weather when he walks with his new beat.
Everyone sings hallelujah when my boy walks down the street.
Life just kind of dances through you from your smile down to your feet.
Amazing! He's a whole new form of life!
Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife."
(Stephin Merritt)
No kidding.
This is Chapter 97 in the "Queer Identities" series.
The narrator is Brian Kinney, and features Justin Taylor, Dorian Folco, Diane Rhys, Leslie Marn, Jennifer Taylor, Molly Taylor, Others.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: The Plunge. San Francisco, February 20, 2004.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. This is for fun, not profit. Enjoy.
Earlier "QI" chapters online and on the LJ are here:
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaelmcgear/Gaedhalficpage.html
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaedhal/
Most recent "QI" chapters on the LJ are here:
Ch. 94 "Bird on the Wire"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/438195.html
Ch. 95 "Like a Rose"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/439245.html
Ch. 96 "Impromptu"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/439677.html
By Gaedhal
"Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street.
There are whole new kinds of weather when he walks with his new beat.
Everyone sings hallelujah when my boy walks down the street.
Life just kind of dances through you from your smile down to your feet.
Amazing! he's a whole new form of life!
Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife.
The world does the hula-hula when my boy walks down the street.
Everyone thinks he's Petula so big and yet so petite.
Butterflies turn into people when my boy walks down the street.
Maybe he should be illegal, he just makes life too complete.
Amazing, he's a whole new form of life!
Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife..."
***
What the fuck can I say?
"Surprise, Sunshine."
But he doesn't smile.
"We need to talk, Brian. Now."
And he grabs my tie and starts pulling me.
"Hey! That's a $200 Italian silk tie!"
"You have fifteen more just like it at home. So shut up!" He stops a waiter. "Where's the men's room?"
The guy points down a hallway near the kitchen. And that's where Justin drags me.
"We don't have time to fuck," I say as he pushes me inside and locks the door. "Our guests are waiting."
"When were you going to tell me?" he demands. "No, you obviously weren't going to tell me. I'm surprised you didn't blindfold and gag me until we got to wherever the ceremony is supposed to take place."
"City Hall," I say. "You may have heard on the news about all the fag marriages they're performing there."
He closes his eyes like he's counting to ten. "Brian, what were you thinking?"
What was I thinking? I still don't know. Except that this is something I want to do -- I have to do. And I think Justin wants to do it, too. I know he wants to do it. He's just being a little stubborn because it wasn't his idea.
I admit there were a million times I could have told him in the past week. And I wanted to tell him. I should have told him before I called Dorian and Diane with my crazy plans. Before I had Leslie make the reservations. Before I called his mother and told her to buy dresses for herself and Molly because they were coming to San Francisco to watch Justin get hitched.
I should have told him Tuesday night after he fucked me. I should have told him this morning on the plane. In the shower. In the elevator on our way down from the suite.
But it was never the right time. Never the perfect moment. Whatever the fuck the perfect moment would be.
"I should have told you," I mumble. "I'm an idiot. I admit it."
"Told me?" he says. "You should have ASKED me! Ever think about that? No! You just go ahead and do what you want to do! And I'm supposed to go along. Does that remind you of anyone, Brian? You hated it when Dr. Dave did that to Michael."
He's right, of course. But with one difference. One big, fucking difference.
"David and Michael were a disaster waiting to happen. That's why it was wrong. David never loved Michael -- he just wanted to control him. But I love you," I tell him. "And you love me. I didn't ask because..." And then I stop. Because maybe I don't really know. Or don't want to say.
"Because what?" His voice is much softer.
"Because you might have said 'no' -- and then I'd have lost my nerve. I never could have said it again. I had to do it this way because I'm a fucking coward. It's the only way I could be sure that... that..."
"That I'd do it?" he asks.
"Yes." It's that simple. And that horribly complicated. "This was the right moment. Like Stonewall. Like Harvey Milk. I was afraid every fucking minute that some fucking judge would stop it before we got here. That they'd shut it all down and we'd lose that... that perfect time. So you had to do it now. You couldn't say no."
"So is this some publicity stunt?" His face is hard. "Or some political statement? Is this about your ego, Brian? Or is this about us?"
How can I explain? I've always said I was never part of some community. The Lone Wolf, never giving a shit about anyone else. But that was never true. It's always been a fucking pose. Ask Michael. Ask Lindsay. Even ask Deb, who has a pretty low opinion of my actions in general. But watching all those interviews Ron did with all those men -- most of them now dead, including Vic -- they believed in something bigger than themselves. They were queers and they weren't afraid to tell the world that they deserved respect. They deserved rights. They deserved to have everything they wanted, even when the straight world only wished they would shut the fuck up, go away, hide their faces. But they refused to hide. They refused to go away. They refused to shut up. Instead they only said it louder.
"It's about everything. It's about showing the world that we're fucking partners. That domestic partnership form we signed -- what the fuck was that? A crummy piece of paper to put in a drawer. I don't want you to be put in a drawer, Justin, no matter how many homophobic pricks think you should be -- and that includes all the homophobic gay ones! I don't want us to be put in a fucking drawer. So, yes, this is a statement. Yes, it's political. Yes, it's about history. And it's about my ego, too. Because it's about what I want. And I want you. I want to be married -- to you."
He looks mystified. "But you hate marriage! You've always hated marriage!"
He's making sense, which always means I'm fucked. "And I didn't believe in love, either. Or queers having kids. Or living together like straight people in a house with a swimming pool and a fucking picnic table. I didn't believe in any of those things. Until I did. And now I do."
He leans his head against me. "Brian..."
"And I didn't believe I would ever die," I whisper. "Or that I would ever be sick, or weak, or depend on someone else to take care of me. I never believed I could get cancer. I thought I was invincible. But what I really was was terrified of life. So I fucked and drank and drugged myself into a stupor, always telling myself that when life got too much for me to take I could always kill myself and no one would ever give a shit."
"I give a shit," he says.
"I know. And so do a lot of other people, including my friends. And my kids. I never thought I was worthy to be loved. I never thought my mother loved me, or my old man. But then... one person loved me -- Michael. And then another -- Ron. And another -- Tim. And Vic. And Deb. And Lindsay. And I loved them, too. I didn't want to think about it, but it was true. And then someone else loved me -- and that scared me shitless. He was so persistent. So brave. He could see through me like I was a pane of glass. So I ran away. I ran -- but he wouldn't let me get away."
"I know," he says. "I'm like that. Like a rash on your balls."
"Worse, because there's no cure. Someone like that -- you have to take seriously. You have to do something big. The grand, beautiful gesture. The beau geste."
"In other words, you want to make an honest man of me."
"No," I correct him. "I want you to make me the honest man. I talk the talk, but now it's time to walk the walk."
He nods. And then he kneels down on the men's room floor.
"Stop! There's no time to blow me, Justin. Besides, I can't get it up."
"Maybe later," he says, taking my hand. "Brian Aloysius Kinney, will you do me the honor of being my husband?"
The fucking little twat! He always beats me to the punch.
"Only if you promise never to say my middle name aloud again as long as you live."
"I promise."
I pull him to his feet. "Then yes. I'll be your fucking husband."
There's a tentative knock on the men's room door. "Brian? Justin? Are you coming out? Because we only have time for a quick lunch before we're scheduled to be at City Hall."
"One minute, Dorian," I call. "We're working out a few details."
"That's what I'm afraid of. I don't want the management of this fine hotel to have the happy couple arrested for... for whatever you're doing in there."
"Go away, Dorian. We'll meet you at the table." I hear a heavy sigh as Dorian walks away. I smooth down Justin's hair. It feels like golden silk against my fingers. "You are ready to do this? Really?"
"Yes," he says. "Are you?"
I take a deep breath. "Strangely enough, I am."
***
Leslie, jewel that she is, has made all the arrangements. A stretch limo is waiting in front of the hotel and we have an appointment with one of the clerks for 2:00.
"It's raining!" Molly cries. "My new dress!"
"It's only a little drizzle," says Jennifer. "Put on your coat, honey."
"Are you cold?" I ask Justin as we get into the car.
"No, I'm not cold at all." He's grinning. "I feel great."
"So do I."
As we drive Justin scribbles on a pad of paper. "What are you doing?"
"Writing my vows."
I try to grab the pad away. "I worked on those fucking vows for days, you little twat!"
"Those are your vows, Brian. Now I want to write my own. So back off, old man."
"Hurry up, Justin," Leslie urges. "We only have a few minutes."
"I'm hurrying. But I want to be able to read the things!"
There's a huge crowd around City Hall, with masses of people in line and even more sightseers.
"Oh, dear," says Diane. "Are we going to get in there?"
"They're waiting for us inside," says Leslie. "It's all set."
But Dorian is nervous. "Are you sure there won't be a riot if we jump the queue?"
"Well," I say. 'We'll find out in a minute."
A man and woman are waiting on the sidewalk. The woman is the liaison with the mayor's office and the man is the photographer Leslie hired. But there are also a bunch of reporters. Someone has tipped them off that something big is going to happen. They see the limo and immediately go on alert.
Leslie gets out first, followed by Jennifer and Molly, the official flower girl with a basket of rose petals. Leslie has small bouquets for the women. Then Dorian exits and hands out Diane. The crowd immediately recognizes her. "Look! That's Diane Rhys!" And the cameras click away.
Now they're waiting. They know it isn't Diane who is getting married.
My throat is dry as the Sahara. I've never needed a good stiff drink more. "Are you ready, Sunshine?" I croak.
He's ridiculously calm. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"You better be, twat, because I'm only doing this once in my fucking life!"
Justin laughs as we get out of the car. That's when all hell breaks loose.
All I can hear is screaming. It sounds like seagulls and surf. The reporters push forward, but security holds them back. It feels like a long walk up to the domed City Hall, even though it's only a short climb up the steps. People are yelling, "Brian Kinney!" I also hear, "Justin! Brian and Justin!"
The drizzle starts again. "Fabulous! My suit will be ruined," I huff as a drop goes right in my eye.
"I don't care if it snows!" says Justin, grinning from ear to ear. And he waves to the throng like a member of the fucking Royal Family.
We're inside. There's a giant rotunda that looks like something in the Vatican with a long sweeping staircase to the second floor. This lobby teams with couples getting married in every corner. It's like a marriage convention. Some are wearing jeans and tee shirts, while others are in full wedding gear, white dresses and tuxes, surrounded by family and friends. Two hippie lesbians in peasant blouses are singing to each other while another hippie strums a guitar.
"This is insane!" Diane shouts over the din. But I can tell she loves it.
We're ushered into a private office where we have to fill out papers. Luckily, Leslie is prepared with all our I.D. and the money for the ceremony. Then they lead us to the County Clerk's Office to pick up the license. Leslie hands the clerk $13. The photographer snaps a picture of me with a stunned look on my face.
Everywhere we walk people are congratulating us. "Not so fast," I warn. "We haven't done the deed yet!"
"This way," says the liaison. "We're going to the International Room in the mayor's suite. You can have your ceremony there in private. One thing -- the woman who was going to do your ceremony has been delayed, but another person has graciously volunteered. He was here to do a wedding for two women in his congregation, but he can do civil weddings, too."
"Whatever the fuck. It's fine with us."
We go into the room and there is a tall, imposing man with a full grey beard and yarmulke. "Shalom! I'm Rabbi Chaim Grossman. I'll be performing your ceremony. It's my way of doing a mitzvah for all you fine people."
Justin is delighted. "Cool!"
"Pleased to meet you," I say, giving him the print-out of our vows. "We have everything you need right here."
"Wonderful, Mr. Kinney! And this is your partner?"
"Justin Taylor." Justin pumps his hand. "We're getting married! We're really doing it!"
"I'll do the best I can," the rabbi laughs. "My weddings always stick."
"Good to know." Everyone is looking at us, expectantly. "Well... Let's get this show on the road."
Molly jumps up and down, clapping. Jennifer is already sobbing.
And then we stand in front of the rabbi. This is actually fucking happening.
"Dear friends," he begins, only glancing at the print-out. He's a pro. He knows how to do this in his sleep. "We have come together in the presence of these witnesses to join together Brian and Justin. Marriage was ordained for mutual companionship, help, comfort, and love, that no human being should go upon this journey of life alone, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into this manner of life Brian and Justin have now come to be joined. Please join hands, gentlemen."
And I take his hand in mine.
"Brian, will you have Justin as your husband, to live together? Will you love him, cherish him, honor and protect him, in sickness and in health, and be faithful to him in your heart, as long as you both shall love each other?"
My mouth is moving. And the words are coming out. "I... I will."
"And Justin, will you have Brian as your husband, to live together? Will you love him, cherish him, honor and protect him, in sickness and in health, and be faithful to him in your heart, as long as you both shall love each other?"
"I will," he says.
Rabbi Grossman nods. "Now please recite the vows you each have written."
I'm up first. I downloaded a ton of examples off the web, combining and editing and moving things around, until I finally found the words that felt right to me.
"Before these witnesses I, Brian, vow to love you, Justin, and care for you. I take you, with all your faults and your strengths, as I offer myself to you with all my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I want to spend my life, no apologies, no excuses, and no regrets."
Diane snorts at that. "Good one, Bridie!"
But Justin is smiling. He takes out his vows, the ones he scribbled in the limo. "And before these witnesses I, Justin, promise to you, Brian, to be there when you need me, to fill your days with sunshine, to comfort you and encourage you, to always be your friend and lover, and to love you with all my heart for the rest of my life."
Diane nudges Dorian, who steps forward. "As the Best Man I would like to recite a short poem, if you don't mind?"
This is a surprise. But Justin nods. So I say, "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."
Dorian coughs nervously. He's more nervous than I am, it seems. Because he's the next sucker in line to do this. And then he reads from a small leather book of Shakespeare's sonnets:
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Lover alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
"Nicely done," says the rabbi. "May we have the rings, please?"
Diane, our Maid of Honor, takes the velvet box out of her bag and opens it. Platinum, very simple, with 'Brian + Justin' and the date '2-20-04' engraved in the inside of each one. Justin hasn't seen them before. I got his size from Jennifer -- he had a class ring from St. James that he apparently ordered before he was bashed, but never wore. I don't think his fingers have gotten any fatter since then. I hope not.
Diane put little tabs on each one so she'd know which was which. She hands Justin's to the rabbi, who gives it to me. Then he points to the words I'm supposed to say. I ought to know this by heart -- after all, I've read them over about a hundred times. But I still fucking stumble. The print is too fuzzy. I think I need glasses.
"Justin, may this... this ring be a permanent reminder of our promise and steadfast... love. With this ring I... I wed you, with my mind and heart and body I worship you, with all that I am and all that I have."
Thank God it slips on his finger without a glitch. A perfect fit. He stares at it for a moment, like he can't believe it. You're not the only one, Sunshine!
Then it's my turn to get the ring. He doesn't stumble at all. "Brian, may this ring be a permanent reminder of our promise and steadfast love. With this ring I wed you, with my mind and heart and body I worship you, with all that I am and all that I have."
Mine fits, too. I haven't worn a ring in years -- not since high school when I used to wear a cheap silver thing with a skull on it -- but it feels right.
"Brian and Justin," the rabbi continues. "May they surely perform and keep the vow and covenant made between them, of which this ring given and received is a token and pledge, and may they ever remain in perfect love and peace together, as long as they both shall love each other. Brian and Justin have now witnessed to their mutual consent before this company, they have pledged their solemn word to each other, and they have confirmed it by the giving and receiving of rings and by the joining of hands. And so by virtue of the authority vested in me by the state of California, I therefore declare them to be husbands and eternal partners. Mazel Tov!"
Molly starts throwing rose petals around and everyone is kissing us -- even the rabbi.
"I always knew it," Diane smirks. "Bridie makes a beautiful bride!"
"I'm not the fucking bride!" I insist.
"Think again," says Diane. "Justin is the real husband in this relationship -- the macho man who is willing to punch out anyone to defend your honor. While you, La Diva, are the high maintenance bitch in the house."
"Shut the fuck up!" I tell her. "Excuse my French."
But, as usual, she's right. In fact, for us in bed lately she doesn't know how right she is.
"We're both equal," Justin states. "And that's that. All that crap about who's the husband and who's the wife is so 2001!"
The rabbi is talking to Dorian and Diane. I wonder if Dorian is locking in the guy for their own ceremony? It would be just like Dorian to pull out a rabbi at this point in his life.
Then Rabbi Grossman comes over to me and Justin and shakes our hands. "An amazing day!"
"You said a mouthful, Padre." I'm not sure what the nickname for a rabbi is, but he doesn't seem to mind.
He raises a bushy eyebrow. "But now comes the hard part, gentlemen."
Justin is all attention. "Yes?"
"This was the easy thing -- the wedding ceremony."
"Not when you're a queer," I point out. "The government is itching to shut us down."
"I agree, Mr. Kinney," he says. "This day has been long overdue. But it's only a symbolic moment. That's the thing to remember. The wedding is over, but the marriage is only beginning."
"I know," I say, squeezing Justin's left hand. I can feel his ring digging into my skin. "I fucking know. It's only the beginning."
***
"Oh, shadows of echoes of memories,
Oh, things that he brings that he found in the sea,
Oh, shadows of echoes of memories of songs,
Oh, how could he know that it won't be long.
Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street.
There are whole new kinds of weather when he walks with his new beat.
Everyone sings hallelujah when my boy walks down the street.
Life just kind of dances through you from your smile down to your feet.
Amazing! He's a whole new form of life!
Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife."
(Stephin Merritt)