7: The Almost Wedding
—Dejvice and Troja, Prague, September 2016—
Warmth spread from the center of his back along his spine over his shoulders until he could feel it seeping from his palms. He curled more into himself hugging his knees, warming his legs. He took slow deliberate breaths, savoring the feeling.
Another warm spot evolved on his neck. A perfect hot circle, growing a little damp, pulsing slowly. The fine hair there moved as the hot breaths touched his neck, and then the spot grew cold again. And hot. And cold. Damp.
Then he really felt it. Two soft hands smoothing down his arms until the long nimble fingers circled his wrists. How could the hands move down his body uninterrupted while he was lying on his side? He had to be floating then.
He was so warm. Cocooned in the softest of blankets, gentle hands soothing him, touching his chest, stomach and thighs, enveloping him. So good, so safe. Dark but safe. He was unseen, unjudged, he could stay floating there without ever being required to do anything else. Just let the warmth stay. Please, stay.
***
Simon woke up drenched with sweat. The open window did nothing to cool the apartment. Damn, he hated the summer in the city.
There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head. It may have been to do with the dream he couldn’t really remember. He felt as though he was missing something obvious—as if he’d forgotten something important which would come back to bite him soon. Like his mother’s birthday. She was born in January, though. What, then, was eating at him?
He gradually dismissed the feeling and dressed for the special occasion of the day. He was overworked, as always. And Lukas had his big day today.
***
They were in a small village that had been swallowed by the sprawling city many decades ago. Today, the rural cottages were surrounded by modern developments. The classic Czech pub they had booked was half full with every single person who was somehow important to Simon. Funny how his and Lukas’s lives had become intertwined over the years. Only their parents were missing, which was for the better.
Simon smoothed his hand over his tie and shifted from foot to foot. He looked around at the group of his closest friends. Some of them he knew from work at the psychiatric hospital, some he met at the university. With Lukas, he was connected through the many important life experiences they had in common—like the fact they were both gay and from Catholic families. They’d met at school years ago, and despite moving around a lot, they’d never lost contact. Lukas, being the genius with a degree in both biochemistry and medicine, now worked in a hematology research laboratory in Prague.
The speech had to be in English because of Mike, some of his colleagues, and his mom. They thought they’d need someone to translate into Czech as well, but since Lukas’s parents refused to attend “the farce”—as Lukas’s father called it—there was no need. All their friends spoke English well enough.
“I have the awkward task of saying something.” Simon cleared his throat again as the crowd quieted. He was supposed to be happy right then—and he was, in a small way. The rest of him was cold. Literally. He was either freezing or cooking all the time lately, nothing in between. It had to be the air conditioning. The difference in temperature between the streets outside and the cool restaurant could be fifteen degrees or more. That had to be it. Focus, Simon.
“I suspect they asked me because they wanted some cutesy Hugh-Grant-style performance, but I can’t do that. If you haven’t noticed yet, this is not a real wedding.” He paused for a few seconds, looking around nervously. “There are two guys sitting there.” He pointed his glass to the head of the table, trying for a dramatic drop in his voice. A few snickers and muffled laughs could be heard in the small crowd. “That’s, like, all kinds of wrong.” Marta laughed loudest of all and reached for his hand. He looked down at her, smiling, and continued, encouraged. Yeah, he wouldn’t have to fake the ironic passages. Only the real emotional moment scared him.
“I won’t ruin the evening talking about that man over there.” Simon pointed at Lukas, who was grinning. “We all know everything about him, and personally, I would love to forget at least half of it.” Another round of muffled laughs. “I’d rather talk about Mikey—if only because he’s prettier.” Lukas mock-glared at Simon; Mike snickered.
“First time Mike ate brunch with us, there was a kid sitting at a table close to us watching an old Disney cartoon on an iPad. Mike sneak-watched it over the aisle, totally ignoring whatever important, intellectually challenging topic we were dissecting.
“After the kid left, Mike started a long, animated monologue about how great those old cartoons are, how the music was all real orchestra and the animators were real artists, and how he reacted to the movies as a child—how the music affected him. Caught up in the memory, he started singing at the table in the restaurant. The five of us sat there gaping at him.” Simon made another calculated pause for effect. Andrea leaned over the table shaking her head at the memory. She knew what came next. “We called him Bambi behind his back for at least six months after that.”
Mike hid his head in the crook of his arm on the table, shaking with laughter. Lukas, patted his back, smiling affectionately.
Simon’s smile faded. “I think we’re a cynical bunch of self-righteous pricks,” he said, calm and serious, using his famous teacher tone.
Mike lifted his head and stared at Simon, confused. Lukas continued smiling knowingly. He looked down and caught Mike’s hand with his in a familiar loving gesture.
“The point I’m trying to make… Lukas and I have always thought we were dealt a slightly shittier hand than most people. We felt scorned but privileged at the same time. Because when I was treated like an untermensch, I knew it was wrong, and it filled me with this strange kind of pride. I was proud to still be alive and well. Proud that I was right, and they were wrong. I was proud I could still laugh at them. And yes, I was arrogant about it. We are arrogant. We think we are entitled to be sarcastic and elitist because society owes us for all the bigotry, prejudice, and hatred.
“And then Bambi barged in with his saxophone, cupcakes, and those hats. He was inexplicably, inherently happy all the time. I confess, at first, I thought he was naïve. Hypomanic maybe.”
There was a significant number of doctors in the group and the joke was not lost on them. Simon noticed Andrea smirking and continued.
“He seemed a little slow on the uptake to me. Sorry, Mike.”
Simon tilted his champagne glass in Mike’s direction, but the younger man only laughed and stuck out his tongue at Simon.
“But as I watched him, how he smoothed his way through life…the realization hit me one day. The stupid one was me. What I mean is this: irrespective of the hard slaps Mike got from life, and us giving him unnecessary crap, he continues to be a genuinely nice, modest, well-meaning guy. I don’t know how he manages it. And I guess it makes him a much better person than I could ever be.” Simon smirked, fixing his stare on Lukas. “Don’t ruin him.”
Both partners laughed now. Simon sighed, hesitating. It was unusual for him to get all sentimental, but hell… If not this time then when?
“Lukas, I’ve never told you I’m really happy to have you in my life. Even now, when you’re all kinds of sugary sweet with your guy.” He scrunched his nose a little. “Seriously, it gets on my nerves,” he said, only half joking. “Seeing you both should make me feel hopeful.” He grimaced at his wording, and saw Lukas start. Luckily, nobody else noticed the strange formulation of the last sentence. Simon didn’t correct himself, but it made him wrap his speech up. “That’s enough.” He took a deep breath and lifted his glass in a classic gesture. “I really envy you, guys, in the best possible way. Cheers.”
He quickly sat down so he wouldn’t have to stand there when the small gathering of friends and closest family gave their short applause. The speech wasn’t life altering but it was okay, he thought. Lukas seemed pleased with it.
Simon observed Mike’s mom from the corner of his eye for most of the time. Did she feel weird being the only parent at this unusual celebration? Lukas’s own mother and father couldn’t be bothered to attend even though they only lived a few metro stations away, whereas Mike’s mom had traveled from the other side of the world to be here for her son today. A little teary-eyed, she caught her son’s hand and kissed the back of it. The gesture was filled with genuine pride, and Simon tried not to gape. Mike turned to her and hugged her tightly with his right arm, not letting go of his partner’s hand. Lukas watched the scene, his features blissfully calm. Simon had to avert his gaze at that point.
He’d already endured much more of the fuzzy pink fog than he usually cared for. It was his own fault; he should have kept the speech political and not let it slide into the personal shit. The familiar bile rose in his throat, and he washed it down with his wine. What would his mother do if she saw him holding a man’s hand? He drank more, wondering if he should take up smoking again just to have an excuse to bolt for five minutes every once in a while.
“You were great. They had no idea you memorized the whole thing. Good job,” Marta whispered in his ear, and he forced another smile.
“I did improvise toward the end.”
Marta looked around and continued in a low voice. “Why didn’t you invite Jano?”
He really should start smoking again, Simon thought as he shifted in his chair, antsy and apprehensive. “I thought we should slow down for a while.”
“For goodness’ sake, Simon. You’re already slower than an iceberg. What’s going on?”
“I’m not good for him, Marta.”
“You’re not good for him? What?”
“He was really nice to you, and I made a mess last time just because I was in the mood to do so. I was glad when you both left. What does it say about me?”
“I think you’re sabotaging yourself again.”
“Maybe. But I shouldn’t drag him deeper into my mess.”
“If it feels wrong, you shouldn’t be with him, of course. But what do you really want, Simon?”
He grimaced and mumbled, “I don’t want to want the things I want.” As soon as the almost inextricable cluster of syllables left his mouth Marta’s face became sad with understanding. She squeezed his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“You’re by far the most interesting person everywhere you go. Everybody wants to be you or be with you. Can’t you just enjoy it sometimes?”
Simon felt all kinds of wrong listening to the praise. He didn’t want to be a star, the queer captain of their gang of marvelous misfits. He just wanted to be left alone. Then you shouldn’t have made the speech, you idiot.
He loved his friends—they annoyed him as well, but it was a part of the package. Everybody was doing something lately—getting all kinds of new jobs, settling down, even changing their eating and drinking habits. They were all calming down. Hell, even Andrea had a steady partner finally—twelve years after her husband’s death. When he dared to look at Mike and Lukas again, they seemed so right and beautiful in their contentment. Peaceful. Only Simon was trapped in his own perpetual storm, alone in the turmoil which never seemed to affect anyone else. He used to think he was the only one who saw life clearly as the meaningless struggle to get closer to death. But now? Now he knew it was his fault. As if he were colorblind, Simon couldn’t see happiness anywhere.
Maybe he should have invited Jano. Would he have felt better? Safer? Less exposed? Or would he have felt raw? He didn’t believe in “the one” and love at first sight and all that nonsense. He wasn’t sure he believed in love at all. He thought he was in love at one point in his life, but that love turned into an obnoxious chronic infection he was still desperately trying to get rid of. There were only people who were more or less compatible with each other.
Jano and he were reasonably compatible. So why the hell not try it? He briefly imagined himself in Lukas’s position, Jano moving in, signing the papers for registered partnership, maybe getting a dog because it’s appropriate when you’re childless. He chased the picture away with more wine, avoiding the hurt that surely was coming.
As if losing Matěj broke something in Simon, some part of this complicated machine that was his brain and body had been malfunctioning ever since. Ashamed and defeated, Simon admitted to himself he needed fixing. But how?
He continued looking around noncommittally, drinking his wine, at least, until he caught Lukas’s stare. Lukas had a worried line on his forehead, his mouth thin, and eyebrows in a what’s-with-you kind of frown. Simon had noticed Lukas wearing the exact expression a lot lately. He tried for a smile and Lukas smiled back. It was so obviously forced it made Simon smile for real.
***
Lukas leaned against the wall, both hands behind his back squished between his body and the stone. His bow tie was loose around his neck and his shirt unbuttoned at the top. He’d left the tuxedo jacket inside. It was almost midnight but the temperature outside remained uncomfortably close to thirty degrees.
Simon mimicked Lukas’s position with his legs wide apart. The quiet was soothing. Simon only ever felt like this with Lukas—there wasn’t any need to fill silence with awkward conversations. They stood next to each other, both enjoying the calm warm evening. Here, one could see the stars, if only in half the sky. The other half was covered with a pinkish haze, a mesh of city lights and smog above Prague. The sound of Mike’s saxophone could be heard from inside, the muffled laughter of his bandmates drifted through the air. Everybody was half-drunk, just as they should be.
“I used to think I was in love with you,” Lukas said, staring ahead.
“I used to pretend I didn’t know.”
“You’re a cold bastard.”
“Yes. But I liked you too much to lose you because of a bound-to-fail relationship.”
“Bound to fail?” Lukas’s gaze flashed to the side.
“You’d hate me after a month. We’d self-destruct.”
“True.”
Simon didn’t know if he was irritated that Lukas had agreed so easily. He looked away, scrunching his nose and tugging on his scarred earlobe.
“Thank you for the speech, really. Usually, you’re quite acerbic these days. I’m aware of the effort you’ve put in.”
“You couldn’t have thanked me sans insults?” Simon smiled. Everything with Lukas was so familiar and comfortable. It made him both glad and bone-deep sad. Lukas had a good life ahead of him, but something else was ending. They did stupid things together, they hurt together, they fought and rose hell. And Simon loved every second of it.
Now, those days were gone. Lukas was official with an Australian saxophone player who was barely twenty-six years old with an underpaid job teaching English at a language school, and who wrote Lukas a love song for their fake wedding. An actual love song he played on his saxophone after the ceremony while Lukas wiped at his eyes, hugging a stuffed kangaroo to his chest. Simon did not see that coming. A living, rainbow-shitting turquoise unicorn would have surprised him less.
“Simon.” Lukas sounded serious. “You were always very sparse with your feelings. The only person I’ve seen you openly showing affection for is Marta. You’ve become a loner. I wouldn’t bring this up if I thought it’s something you want—”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s the lamest answer you could have come up with.” Lukas was annoyed. Good, that made two of them.
Simon didn’t say anything. Lukas apparently had more in store for him.
“You’re lonely. Maybe you could start treating people with a little emotion so they can stop admiring you and actually start loving you.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah. We’ve known each other for almost twenty years, and today is the first time you’ve said something along those lines.”
“That’s not true.”
Lukas looked Simon dead in the eyes, challenging him quietly.
“Okay, maybe it is. But you knew.”
“Look, I know you had a crappy childhood, I’ve been there. I know what your mother is like. I get all that. But what used to be a defense mechanism became a bad habit. The people in that room whom you call your friends—you’ve never let them feel like they were actually getting to know you.”
Simon almost tore his ear off. He dropped the twitchy hand wishing for a cigarette for the thousandth time that day.
“Someone told me something along those lines years ago,” he said quietly, his voice betraying him.
“Do I dare to say the name of that someone?”
Simon scowled at Lukas briefly.
Lukas sighed. He was silent for a few seconds. Then he cleared his throat, changing the subject, but only slightly. “I know it feels like I’m leaving, but I’m still right here. Yes, Mike and I registered, and I fully intend to marry the man once I’m allowed, but it doesn’t mean we’re leaving you behind. You’re welcome at our place any time. Just like always.”
Not quite. Lukas wasn’t aware of it, but he radiated happiness and love like a beacon. And Simon felt if he were exposed to the light for longer periods of time, he’d burn and dry out like an old-time vampire under the midday sun. It was a new low for him, this selfishness—wanting Lukas to be unhappy and alone so Simon wouldn’t be the only one suffering. Simon grimaced while averting his gaze.
“Is this some kind of an intervention?” he asked sourly.
“Do you think you need one?”
“I certainly hope I don’t.”
Lukas pushed off the wall and patted Simon’s shoulder. “My man is waiting for me. He’s promised to carry me over the threshold.”
Simon chuckled. “I thought he was the bride.”
“There’s no bride, thank fuck.”
As soon as Lukas disappeared inside the restaurant, Simon’s smile wilted.