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When Kevin, at eighteen, first saw his soulmate’s name printed on his skin, in the dip beneath his collarbone, he pretended he hadn’t seen it at all. His parents had been excited for him to find the perfect girl and then marry her and have a big Mormon family. Kevin had thought he wanted that too.
But the name printed there, in loopy cursive, wasn’t a girl’s name. It said ‘Connor.’ Clear as day, impure as night.
Kevin made sure that no one would ever see him shirtless; made sure to button up his dress shirt as high as it would go; made sure that the collar would never slip. One day he would find a nice girl that his family approved of, and would explain that the name printed on his skin was nothing but a mistake.
Still, sometimes he had dreams. Good dreams, pure dreams, dreams of trips to Seaworld or picnics or walks on the beach. They were always blurry and ethereal, but they filled him with a kind of happiness that he’d never experienced before. “I love you, Kevin,” the man in his dream would say, and Kevin would say it back, without thinking.
He’d wake up and pray. Gay thoughts weren’t all that sinful unless one acted upon them, but saying “I love you” was an action, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
He’d fall asleep again to fitful hell dreams.
Once he left for his mission he thought he’d forget about the whole thing.
He could focus on what he was supposed to do. He could focus on being the best Mormon there ever was.
His new mission partner had other ideas.
“Hey!” Elder Cunningham had said loudly, halfway through their crowded flight, causing heads to turn. “What’s your soulmate’s name?”
“Oh, um,” Kevin said nervously. “Gosh, I don’t think I have one.”
Elder Cunningham had looked absolutely heartbroken.
“That’s terrible . I have a name on my shoulder, at least, I think it’s a name, I can’t really pronounce it, but…”
He kept going on about his soulmate for what seemed like forever, and Kevin tried not to focus on the fact that he had just lied to his new (and only) friend.
He hoped that would be the end of it.
In short, it wasn’t.
The moment he got there, they all seemed to know.
“Turn it off!” they’d said, encouraging him to smother his feelings.
He could practically feel their eyes burning through the collar of his white dress shirt.
“I-I’m not having gay thoughts,” he felt himself stammer out, trying to crush that little gay box.
If Elder McKinley could do it, so could he.
But the box was comforting. It was nice to have. It felt like a back-up plan, of sorts.
The soulmate dreams continued, but so did the hell dreams. Sometimes they’d fade into one another, and he’d wake up shaking and crying and smiling all at once. He felt so guilty, lying to everyone.
But what could he do?
After the whole thing with the Book of Arnold was over, he almost told Elder Cunningham the truth. Arnold had found his soulmate almost immediately. He and Naba were happier than anything, which only made the hell dreams worse. Envy was a sin.
Kevin was suffering, and everyone knew it. He could barely sleep, even though he was alone in his room most nights. He never thought he’d wish for Arnold back as his roommate, but he felt isolated. He couldn’t deal with the silence.
“Elder Price, could you help with dinner?” Elder McKinley called from the kitchen one afternoon.
No one else was left in the house.
“Sure,” Kevin said, breezing into the little kitchen area and picking up a knife to help with the fruit salad.
It was hot, but both men still had their shirts buttoned and their ties impeccably knotted.
As an afterthought, Kevin broke the silence with:
“You don’t have to call me that anymore, y’know. Call me Kevin.”
The other man sort of winced and nodded.
“Kevin, then. I’m Connor, if it matters.”
Kevin’s knife slipped on the mango he was slicing, and before he knew what was happening, there was blood on the counter. The world seemed to spin.
“Oh my gosh, Kevin, are you okay?” he heard Connor’s voice say, and he nodded numbly.
Connor grabbed a towel and pressed it to his hand.
He was barely aware of anything except for Connor’s arm around his waist and those piercing eyes pressing worriedly into his.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Kevin said, wetting his lips and trying to breathe. “Yeah.”
He let Connor wrap up his hand.
Then he went to sleep until dinner.
He didn’t dream of anything.
-
That night, after dinner, Connor didn’t mention the incident. They were all playing Life .
“Ooh,” Poptarts said, winking at Kevin. “You’re getting married.”
Kevin felt his mouth go dry, and his gaze shifted to Connor and then back to his little blue car.
It wasn’t even a big deal; everyone got married in the game. But when Poptarts put the little pink piece into the car next to him, he thought of a certain pink vest, and closed his eyes uneasily.
“You okay, buddy?” Arnold said.
He and Nabulungi were playing as a team, and they were beating everyone else easily.
“Yeah,” Kevin said.
He watched all the other players get married too, including Connor, who was last.
“Oh,” Poptarts said, searching through the pieces. “We’re out of pinks. I guess you’ll have to marry a guy.”
Connor’s face flushed red.
“I-I mean-”
“C’mon, none of us are turning it off anymore,” Poptarts said, a little gently. “It’s okay.”
“And lo, the Lord said, marriage between two men or two women shall be celebrated everywhere,” said Arnold. “It’s in the Book of Arnold.”
“Okay,” Connor said, still blushing but also looking a lot happier than he’d ever looked.
He took the piece and put it in the passenger’s seat of his pink car.
Then more quietly, looking at the ground, he said:
“Thank you.”
And when Connor and his plastic husband adopted three children, Kevin tried his best not to be jealous of a game piece.
“Hey,” Connor said, after all the other elders had left.
He and Kevin had been put on cleanup duty, since they had both lost terribly. Connor was stacking the fake dollar bills and putting them into the box.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Kevin said, nervously fussing with his collar.
“What’s that?” Connor said, his voice innocent.
“What’s what?” Kevin said, confused, and then realized.
His collar was tugged down a little too far, revealing the curl of a single ‘ C .’
“Oh,” he said, blushing. “Oh, that’s nothing.”
Connor’s eyes grew wide.
“That says my name, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“ Doesn’t it? ”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters,” Connor said. “I’ve got your name printed above my...y’know.”
“Your…y’know?”
“My ass,” Connor whispered furiously. “I have the name Kevin, the name of everyone’s favorite Mormon poster-boy, tramp-stamped above my ass, so if you don’t-”
Kevin started undoing his tie.
“What are you doing?”
“Showing you my tattoo. You wanted to see it,” Kevin said. “And I’m not everyone’s favorite Mormon poster-boy. I drink coffee. I swear. I don’t wear temple garments. And…” He paused to close the lid on the Life box. “I’m gay.”
“Well, at least you finally admitted it,” Connor mumbled, but stopped when Kevin started unbuttoning his shirt.
He tugged the collar to the side to reveal what he had been hiding for so long.
“Happy?” Kevin said, and Connor swallowed visibly.
Suddenly it felt far too hot, even for Uganda.
Connor stood and walked over to where Kevin was sitting.
“Can I touch it?” he said, and Kevin nodded.
Connor skimmed his thumb beneath Kevin’s collarbone and he shivered, leaning into the touch.
“It’s pretty,” Connor said shortly, but he looked like he was trying to catch his breath.
Kevin opened his mouth, a little nervous.
“Can I see yours?”
“Can we go somewhere more private?”
“Arnold doesn’t sleep in my room much anymore,” Kevin said quickly. “We can-”
“Yes,” Connor said. “Yes, please.”
They made their way to Kevin’s room as quietly as possible, Kevin’s tie still loose around his neck, Connor giggling softly against the other man’s shoulder.
“Are you sure?” Connor said, when they stumbled inside and shut the door.
Their faces were inches apart, yet somehow neither of them could look directly at each other.
“I’m sure,” Kevin said. “I...Have you ever…”
He stopped, trying to find the words.
“Have you ever had a dream that’s so good...so perfect...that it’s like, the opposite of a hell dream? Like, a heaven dream?”
“Yeah,” Connor said. “Not a lot, but sometimes.”
“I’ve had them about you,” Kevin said, tears forming in his eyes. “You’re my Planet Orlando.”
“Oh, Kevin ,” Connor whispered, and then they were kissing.
It was soft, and sweet, and Connor tasted kind of like mangoes, and Kevin wondered how he ever could have thought that this was wrong.
“Oh my gosh,” Connor said, forgetting himself. “You wanted to see it, right?”
He pulled away reluctantly, turning around and untucking his shirt and pulling it up so that Kevin could see…
“My name,” Kevin said, kneeling so that he could get a better look.
“I’m yours,” Connor said, breathy. “Yours, Kevin.”
And that, Kevin thought, when he pressed a kiss to the mark, was better than a handshake from God himself.
They didn’t have sex that night, not like that. Instead, they lay in Kevin’s bed, pressed close beneath the sheets, whispering sweet words and secrets and pretending that hell didn’t exist for them, or for anyone.
“I love your hair,” Connor whispered. “I love the way it’s grown out.”
“I love your freckles,” Kevin murmured, half asleep, letting their noses brush. “They’re like stars.”
“I love how passionate you are,” Connor said. “You’re always so full of emotion. I don’t think you could turn it off if you tried.”
“I don’t want to try,” Kevin said. “I want you.”
When Arnold found them the next morning, tangled in the sheets, he didn’t wake them for breakfast.
For the first time in his life, Connor slept in until 10am.