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“When are you and Dante getting married?” his mother asks him one day, when Dante isn’t home and he’s sitting on their patio.
“What?”
“When are you and Dante getting married?” she asks again, sounding exasperated. Ari looks at their pool and watches as the swan floatie drifts along.
“Marriage?”
“Yes, marriage! You do know what marriage is, right?” There’s a rustling on the other side and Ari feels himself frown.
“Of course I know what marriage is, Mom. Why are you asking?”
The thing is, Ari is 43 years old, has been with Dante for 26 years, and his life is fine. Despite being two men, they’re just like any other couple; they have a house together, a dog named Chicken, a white picket fence that Ari thought was cheesy, but Dante insisted on. Everything about them is normal, he supposes, except for the fact that they cannot get married.
But they’ve never talked about marriage. Maybe because it's sort of a sensitive topic for Dante. He's big on activism, unlike Ari, who likes to mind his own business. He doesn't like how conservative Texas was when it came to LGBT+ rights, but he refuses to move. “This is my home, Ari. It’ll always be my home,” he says every time Ari suggests that they move. To California, maybe, where people are accepting and pride flags are proudly displayed.
“Don’t you know? It’s legal now,” his mom says. Her voice is more high-pitched than usual.
“No, I didn’t,” he replies. He gets up from the chair and turns his face up to the sky. It’s late June and the sun is brutal, but the heat is dry, and Ari lets it warm his skin for a bit.
“Well?”
“I have to go, Mom. Talk to you later?” Before she can answer, he hangs up the phone and sighs.
Marriage. Would Dante want to get married? It’s been so long, but Ari distinctly remembers Dante mentioning it once, back in 1987. So he goes inside, where the AC is turned on and their dog is napping, and takes a long, cold shower.
Dante comes home an hour later, his arms straining under the weight of filled grocery bags. Chicken runs up to him immediately, tail wagging and tongue drooling, and Ari laughs as Dante stumbles over their poor dog.
“Help me with the groceries, you ass,” Dante says lightheartedly.
“What’d you get?” he asks as Dante hands him the bags. They walk into the kitchen, Chicken following at their heels happily.
“The usual. Your favorite spinach artichoke dip. Some cake mix, double fudge, of course,” he replies. Ari grins and places a loud kiss on Dante’s cheek.
“La Terra Fina?”
“La Terra Fina.” He bends down to pet the top of Chicken’s head. Ari watches him closely, looking for a sign that he knows . But he continues to rub their dog’s belly, blissfully unaware of Ari’s inner turmoil. They put the groceries away and he manages to eat some of the dip before Dante takes it from him. “Save it for later, I’m not going back to the store if you finish it all.”
Dante doesn’t say anything about it the rest of the day. When Ari tries to turn on the news, he frowns and switches the channels. “You don’t like the news,” he says.
“Maybe I wanted to watch it,” Ari retorts. But they settle on a rerun episode of Grey’s Anatomy . Dante leans into him, his head resting on his shoulder, and Ari hesitantly throws an arm around him. His body is tense and his mind is reeling. He’s quiet as Dante prepares dinner, quiet when Dante excuses himself to paint in his studio, and quiet as Dante slips into bed, hours later.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his body cold next to Ari’s.
He pulls the sheets tighter around himself. “My mom called, earlier today,” he says. “And she said something, and I’ve been thinking about it. That’s all.”
Dante kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his mouth. Ari leans into it, hands ghosting over the smooth skin of Dante’s chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
Ari lets his hands settle on Dante’s hips. He digs his fingers into the sensitive skin there. “No, it’s nothing, really.” He shivers at the feeling of lips tracing his neck. Dante touches him gently that night, gasps into the skin between his shoulder blades, and spews curses.
After, when they lie naked together and their legs are intertwined, Ari comes to the realization that he wants to marry Dante Quintana.
He wakes up late to an empty bed. Chicken is standing by the door and the windows are open. Ari looks at the fluttering drapes and takes a deep breath before getting up. It’s almost 10 a.m. on a Sunday and he has two texts from Dante.
(8:57) I had to go to an appointment and didn’t want to wake you up.
(8:57) But I made cake for breakfast.
Ari smiles to himself.
(9:52) thanks, i'm going out, not sure when i’ll be back
He hesitates before sending another.
(9:52) i love u
He doesn’t say “I love you” as often as he should. Dante, on the other hand, says it everyday, sometimes at complete random. But he’s always been a little emotionally stunted, never good with his words, and afraid. Dante knows, of course, that he’s loved.
(10:01) I love you too <3
Ari pours a cupful of kibble into Chicken’s food bowl before settling down with a slice of double fudge cake. They go on a walk after breakfast, where she decides to bark loudly at a chihuahua across the street. Once they’re back home, Ari grabs his keys and leaves for Cielo Vista Mall.
He walks into Kay Jewelers with a sense of purpose. The saleswoman talks him through dozens of rings, but none seem right . Then he spots a simple band at the back of a display. He wants to laugh when the woman furrows her brow at it. She doesn’t know Dante like he does. So he orders two and is told they’ll be ready in ten business days.
Dante’s car is in the driveway when he comes back. He’s on the couch, reading a book, with Chicken’s head on his lap. He looks up when Ari throws his keys into the bowl by the door.
“Where’d you go?” he asks.
“The mall. I wanted to get a new jacket, but I didn’t find anything,” he says and sits down on the couch, careful to avoid Chicken’s tail. Dante nods and goes back to reading. Ari looks at him closely, thinks about the rings, and jiggles his knee.
The next ten days pass by slowly. He feels jumpy, like any moment Dante will figure out his secret. Dante starts looking at him worriedly and asking questions, which only makes him more anxious. Chicken senses that something’s off with him and tries to comfort him in the only ways she can.
Finally, on July 8th, the rings are ready. He goes to pick them up after work. The box is black and feels like a boulder in his pocket on the drive home. Chicken throws herself on him when he walks through the door and Dante calls for him from his studio. Ari takes a deep breath before moving.
“Busy day at work?” Dante asks, paintbrush in hand. He’s wearing an old pair of jeans and a ratty, paint stained t-shirt. Ari thinks he couldn’t look more perfect.
“I barely had time to eat my lunch,” he says. He stands behind Dante and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, can we talk?”
Dante laughs. “Are we not already talking?”
“I’m serious,” he says. “I have something to say.” Dante frowns.
“Alright.”
“Listen, I’ve been thinking. A lot, actually. About us and our future. And how marriage is legal now, between two men. I didn’t know until my mom called to me ask when we were getting married. So I’ve been thinking about it since then. And I want to marry you, Dante.” Ari takes Dante’s hands in his own. The paintbrush falls to the floor. Dante’s eyes are wide, his cheeks bright red, and tears begin to build up in his eyes.
“I love you so much. I can’t put it into words, how much I love you, Dante. And I know I don’t say it enough, but I want you to know that my heart is yours, and only yours. And I want to be your husband. So, will you marry me, Dante Quintana?”
Dante is quiet for a second. Then, very quietly, he says, “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” His tears are falling into his grinning mouth and Ari kisses them away. His lips taste like salt, but he doesn’t mind, because kissing Dante is the best feeling in the world.
He’s so distracted kissing his fiancé that he forgets about the box in his pocket. He remembers, hours later, when he gets up from their bed and steps on it. Ari thinks it must have fallen out while they were hurriedly stripping each other’s clothes off.
Ari looks at the two rings, dull in their dark room, and crawls back into bed. Dante’s half asleep still, his hair a mess and lips swollen. They’re naked, and maybe this isn’t the most appropriate way to give someone a ring, but everything feels perfect.
Dante peers at him through his lashes and smiles lazily. “What’s that?”
“Our wedding bands,” he says.
“You just proposed, are we already getting married?” Dante takes his hand and pulls him back into bed. The sheets are warm and Ari buries his face into Dante’s neck.
“I want to marry you as soon as possible. We’ve waited so long.”
“Next weekend. Let’s do it next weekend, in the backyard. My dad’s a wedding officiant, and you can invite Gina and Susie,” Dante says, his words rushed and excited. He peppers Ari’s face in kisses.
“We’re getting married,” he says. It all seems so surreal.
“We’re getting married,” Dante echos.
Ari tells his mom on the way to work the next morning. “Dante and I are getting married,” he says. He grimaces when she screams into his ear, and then screams turns into sobs.
“Oh, Ari. Your Aunt Ophelia would be so proud,” she sniffles.
“I know,” he says. “I wish she could be here. Her and Franny.”
“Do you know when you’ll have the wedding? We need to start planning.”
“Next weekend.”
“So soon?” she asks.
“We’ve been together 26 years, Mom. I think we’ve waited long enough,” is all he says. His mom makes a noise of agreement.
He tells Gina and Susie over lunch. They’re a little shocked at first, since it’s been so long, but soon they start laughing and saying things like “Finally, we thought you’d never propose!” Ari’s cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much, but it’s a good sort of ache, and all he wants to do is go home to his fiancé.
Dante gets home after him, and they hold hands while getting their marriage license. The woman behind the counter smiles at them. She asks them questions while they fill out the paperwork like “How long have you been together?” and “When’s the date?” and coos when they say they’ve known each other since they were 15.
The wedding will be small, they decide; family and close friends only. Dante’s dad agrees to officiate the ceremony, his mom insists on baking the cake, and Gina and Susie help them choose the flowers.
It’s two days before the ceremony when Dante asks, “Have you told your brother?” They’re outside, lounging on their patio sofa and drinking Tecate with lime and salt, and Ari almost chokes. He looks at Dante, who’s watching Chicken run around the yard, and chews his lip.
“Do you want me to?” he asks. Dante takes a long sip from the can. Then he looks at Ari, his face serious but his gaze soft. His relationship with Bernardo is complicated. They haven’t spoken since 1990, when he and his family finally decided to confront their issues and visit him in prison. Bernardo was nothing like Ari had remembered him. He was older, tired, and sad.
They had gotten in an argument over Dante, or more specifically, over Ari’s relationship with him. It had hurt to see his own brother twist his face in disgust. But now he was getting married, and despite Bernardo’s obvious revulsion of his “lifestyle,” maybe he deserved to know.
“I think he’s your brother, and you shouldn’t keep things from your family,” Dante says. “But I know he doesn’t like me, us. I don’t want to force you to tell him if you really don’t want to.” He takes Ari’s hands and kisses his knuckles.
Ari drains the rest of his beer and stands up. “I’ll go write a letter.” Dante smiles and lets him go inside.
It feels like a millennia before Ari decides on what to say. In the end, the letter is short and to the point. It says:
Bernardo,
I know you don’t like that I’m in a relationship with a man. But there are worse things in the world than boys who kiss other boys. I love Dante and Dante loves me. That’s what’s really important, I think. You might be mad when I tell you that we’re getting married. And even though you I don’t think you’d be there if you had the choice, I can’t help but wish you were.
Love,
Ari
He doesn’t let Dante read it before he sends it. The letter is too personal. So they act like he never wrote it, because it hurts too much to admit that Bernardo probably won’t respond. And maybe that isn’t the healthiest way to deal with it, but it’s what Ari is best at, so Dante lets him.
They get married on a Sunday in the beginning of July. Both of their mothers are crying and Sam is grinning proudly. Even Ari’s dad is smiling. Gina and Susie are holding hands, their eyes full of hope and love. Dante’s younger brother brings his wife, who tries her best to hug everyone while 7 months pregnant, and Ari’s sisters kiss their cheeks about a million times. Their nieces and nephews are already sitting down, either talking to their spouses or trying to calm their young kids.
Everything feels right. The sweet smell of roses and peonies mixed with the warm air and music makes Ari feel drunk on happiness. His cheeks are warm and his hands twitch with nerves. Waiting for Dante underneath the simple wedding arch is torture. He’s going to be married soon, and he doesn’t want to wait a second longer.
Everyone stops talking when Dante emerges from the house, wearing his best suit. Seeing him now makes Ari realize how much has changed. They’re no longer teenagers, fooling around in the bed of his truck under the night sky. Ari has creases around his eyes and the hair around his temple is starting to grey. But his love for Dante is the same, probably even greater, than it was 26 years ago, when they first met.
Dante is smiling in that open, carefree way of his. He takes Ari’s hands and asks, “Are you nervous?”
“No.”
“Me neither. I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Ari wants to kiss him, but holds himself back. He feels a little bad for ignoring Sam as he talks about the sanctity of marriage, but all he can focus on is the man in front of him.
He repeats the vows in a sort of trance. They had thought about writing their own, but in the end Ari didn’t like the idea of looking down at a piece of paper during the most important part. Dante had called him a sap when he said that. And as he looked at Dante, whose smile was glowing like the desert sun, he thought about how sappy he was now. If someone had told 15 year old Ari Mendoza that he would be this affectionate in his forties, he would have laughed in their face.
But here he is, marrying Dante Quintana after denying everything for so long.
Ari drowns out the clapping that sounds like thunder when Dante kisses him. This kiss is different, he thinks, than all the others. He’s not kissing his best friend or his boyfriend or his fiancé this time. They’re husbands now. He’s kissing his husband . So he kisses him again, and again, and again, until all he can hear is everyone groaning. He flips them the bird.