About Time
Gus was ten years old when everything changed.
Gay marriage had been legalized.
Lindsay and Melanie had already been talking about moving back, and that was the final straw. They were the first of our little family to go to the courthouse. Then, it was Mikey and the professor. We celebrated, of course, but it wasn’t exactly a dramatic event. All of them had had their weddings a long time ago. This was just icing.
Then, at the diner one quiet Sunday afternoon, Debbie got our attention.
“We’re getting’ hitched,” she said, smiling.
Well, it was really only a matter of time.
Everyone cheered. Everyone hugged her. Emmet promised to throw Deb and Carl the best wedding ever seen by fag-kind, and even I congratulated her.
But afterwards, while I was standing outside the diner for a smoke, Gus asked me a question.
“Why would Grandma wanna get married?” he asked. His little nose was wrinkled, as if he’d just asked me something disgusting.
I stared down at him through my sunglasses and shrugged. “That’s what people do,” I said.
He frowned at me, looking puzzled. “I thought you said marriage was a suicide pact.”
I snorted, trying not to laugh. Where on earth did he get such ideas? “I may have,” I replied. “But, when people are in love, they tend to do crazy things, like commit themselves, despite the risks.”
“I don’t believe in love. Like you.”
I stared down at this kid, this boy, that was looking up at me like I was some kind of messiah, and I felt suddenly, like a complete shit.
“Look, sonnyboy, don’t listen to your old man. Listen to your mothers.” I took off my sunglasses and crouched down so we were the same height.
“But you always said love is a bunch of crap. And marriage is stupid. And anyway, all the married people I know fight all the time!” His face was serious, deadly serious, and it was hard not to laugh. I would have, if I didn’t feel so fucking guilty.
“Everyone fights, married or not,” I told him.
He squinted at me and folded his arms. “So how come you’re not married then, if love isn’t stupid?”
Well, now… that was a good question.
I opened my mouth to say something about ml:namespace prefix = st1 />
“Things happen,” I said, standing back up.
“So why does anyone get married?” he asked again.
“To be happy,” I replied. “It makes them happy. That’s the only reason anyone ever does anything.”
“So you’re happy not being married?” he asked.
I couldn’t say yes. I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t know what to tell myself.
Debbie’s wedding was one month later. The reception hall was covered in red and purple, and more glitter than they shower down at
And here I was, watching everyone dance. Deb and Carl, Michael and Ben, Linday and Melanie, and even Gus was trying to teach JR to waltz. Maybe the kid was a fag after all. Well, there was reason to hope.
I’d behaved through the ceremony. I’d smiled through the cake cutting. I’d even promised Lindsay I’d dance with her, later. Hell, I had barely had any of the wine, and I’d left any and all recreational drugs at home.
But right then, standing there and watching everyone I’d cared about dancing, coupled up, married, I felt really fucking stupid.
Well, maybe not everyone.
I really had thought he’d come.
I turned on my heel and walked outside. I needed some fresh – make that smoggy –
“Shit,” I heard a voice gasp. “Fucking flight was late, I… fuck.”
I opened my eyes just in time to meet his.
He froze. I stared at him. We hadn’t seen each other in six months, and then it had been in passing.
Then he grinned and walked over, taking the cigarette from my mouth and putting it in his. He inhaled deeply and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Fuck,” he muttered. “How was it?”
I shrugged. “It was a wedding.”
He smirked and shook his head. “And that’s the response I would have expected from Brian Fucking Kinney.”
Hmm.
“Gus asked me why she’d want to get married,” I said, grabbing my cigarette back. I dropped it and stubbed it out with my shoe.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him people get married when they’re in love.”
There was that sunshine smile. He was grinning, and looking endlessly amused. “Is that so.”
“Mm,” I replied, cocking my head. “He told me he doesn’t believe in love.”
He feigned shock. “Oh, wherever could he have gotten that idea?”
I snorted. “Fuck, I felt like an asshole.”
His expression softened. “So what did you do?”
“I told him that people get married to make themselves happy. And then he asked me if I was happy.” I pursed my lips.
He stared at me.
“And?” he asked softly.
“I couldn’t say yes.”
He ducked his head, and I could tell he felt awkward. We’d never talked about it. Five years after he left, and we’d still never brought it up, even once.
“And then I thought,” I said, walking slowly around him. “Then I thought, if people just get married because it makes them happy, and that’s all anyone ever does… what they want to do, I mean… then that makes marriage the most self-serving thing you can possibly do. Doesn’t it?” I ducked my head so I was looking into his face again, and he flushed.
“You always had a way with words, Brian.” He glanced away, avoiding eye contact.
“So what am I, the most self-serving conceited asshole I’ve ever met, doing being unwed?”
He tensed, standing up straight, and stared at me warily.
“Seems odd,” I said. I stepped closer to him, and our noses were almost touching.
“Things happen,” he mumbled.
“I tried to tell the boy that, but he didn’t seem convinced. No, I think I’m right. I think I’ve been missing out on the ultimate in self-serving conceited bull.” I smirked at him.
He swallowed hard and looked guilty. “Brian, I-“
“Shh, you’ll ruin the moment,” I said. I reached into my pocket and retrieved the small box that I hadn’t touched in years.
He inhaled sharply and his eyes widened. He stared at it as I opened it, revealing the rings that we’d never worn.
“Justin Taylor, I’m going to ask you a third time. Will you marry me?”
He paled. His mouth hung open. He looked practically terrified, and definitely like he was about to have an anxiety attack.
I just smiled and raised an eyebrow at him. “You see, I have to be a good influence for Gus. And besides, I refuse to not be happy, I’m not self-sacrificing enough to not do exactly what I want, when I want to. And what I want is to marry you.” I looked him right in the eye. “It would make me happy, and that’s what it’s all about.”
“W-why,” he stammered, glancing around us as if this was some sort of a trap.
“Why would it make me happy? Why am I doing this, after five years?” I pressed my lips against his, kissing him slow and deep.
He didn’t hesitate. He just kissed me back.
When we broke the kiss, our lips barely apart, I finished explaining. “Because I love you. That’s why.”
After that, he punched me in the face. He yelled and shouted and queened out, and demanded to know why I would wait so long, and how could I ask him to give everything up just to make me happy, and when he looked like he was about to cry, I decided I should step in and tell him.
I told him that I’d missed him. I told him that I’d been doing what I thought he needed, letting him go. I told him that I’d been trying to move on. Then I told him that Gus had made me realize that I’m shit at sacrificing my happiness for others, and that it was about fucking time I stopped. And I told him that I wouldn’t be asking, if I didn’t think it would make him happy, too. And I told him that he could say no, if it didn’t. And I told him that he didn’t have to give up anything, that I could move to
He punched me again after that.
I had a black eye for the rest of Debbie’s wedding. All of her wedding photos could be organized into two categories; before Brian’s confession, and after.
Not that Sunshine didn’t make it up to me… over, and over, and over.
Our wedding was much smaller than Debbie’s, with only close family and friends attending. Our reception was much larger, with half of gay
Gus was ten years old when everything changed, and his father finally got married.
As Sunshine put it, it wasn’t only time, but it was about fucking time.