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It was a small ceremony- more specifically, a ceremony of 5, once they found someone in the building who was ordained. Just Henry, Lisa, and their sons, who were currently laying on the treehouse floor, placing bets on who in the apartments would be fit that criteria.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Sal, nobody in this building is ordained and not a cult member.”
“Maybe Mr. Addison.”
“If you can get him out of his room, I’ll…”
“What’ll you do?”
“I was gonna say I’d pay you 100 bucks, but I’m not sure I have that on me.” Larry chuckled, rolling over onto his stomach as he looked at the list of names written on a crumpled sheet of notebook paper.
“So we’ve scratched out Todd’s parents-”
“We asked, they definitely aren’t-”
“David-”
“He’s too creepy, Dad wants someone nice-”
“What about Robert?”
“He might, actually. He has the time, he’s… introspective enough. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Would Henry be cool with someone so…”
“Punky? I mean, he likes you fine.”
“I don’t have a mohawk.”
“You have a tongue piercing, and I think that’s just as punky.”
“Does he know?”
“I mean, Mom knows.”
“Oh, really? What did she say?”
“She wants me to make sure it heals fine, but she’s okay with it.”
“Sweet.” Sal resettled, sitting up against the wall and fiddling with his sleeves.
The treehouse was nice in summer. In winter they had to bundle up, which wasn’t too bad, but it was nice in June. The leaves hissed gently and the sun came in through the broken windows so the boys could lay like cats in the patches of sun on the floor. Larry had managed a tan. Sal stayed in long sleeves after a nap in the sun left him strawberry-red and peeling. But nothing stopped them from spending hours, sometimes consecutive days if they brought enough food and their parents were busy, up in the dilapidated house, talking. Mostly about music, or whatever dumb things crossed their minds. Sometimes the cult. More recently, family.
Sal broke the silence by clearing his throat.
“Hey, Larry?”
“Yeah?”
“...Never mind.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s nothing.” Another silence.
“Okay.”
“Are you like… cool with all this?”
“With what?”
“Our parents getting married?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Larry sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “I already feel like you’re my brother, dude. Why not make it legal, y’know?” An awkward chuckle.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, man! Nobody else I’d rather hunt cultists with.”
Sal was silent often. With the prosthetic, the silences were hard to decipher. For most people. Not for his friends. Larry had learned to read his eyes, the angle of his head, little things. Putting all the clues together, Larry could tell he was smiling.
“Hell yeah.” Larry held out a hand for a high-five, and Sal slapped it with force enough to make Larry leap back.
“Jesus!” Sal laughed- not hard to decipher- hard enough his pigtails shook.
“Is that not my job as a brother?”
“I dunno, man!” Larry shook his hand out, movements getting larger, moving closer to Sal and slapping him on the shoulder.
“Hey!”
“Heh. Now we’re even.”
.....
A small ceremony meant that they didn’t have to dress all the way up, but they did have to dress up a little, to please the parents. Lisa was getting a white dress- nothing fancy, but white for the sake of tradition- and Henry was wearing a suit, but Sal and Larry were dropped at the nearest Target, with Sal given the instructions to “make sure Larry gets something at least kinda nice, honey” while Henry and Lisa went shopping for the dress.
Larry halfheartedly combed through a rack of shirts.
“What do you think ‘nice’ means, Sal?” He lifted a checkered, collared shirt up and grimaced.
“It means not a t-shirt, I think. That should be safe,” he replied, while inspecting his own row of shirts.
“I don’t wanna wear a chessboard, dude.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Black.”
“I don’t think that’s really a color, is it?”
“It is. It’s white that’s not a color. It’s that whole absence of light thing. Plus, I think if you can buy paint of it, it’s a color.”
“Spoken like a true artist. Second favorite?”
“I dunno.” Sal left his row, moving to Larry’s and standing a foot away, looking intently at the taller boy. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to pick a color for you. One that matches your eyes and stuff.”
“My eyes are brown.”
“I know.” After a moment, Sal leafed through the rack and grabbed a green shirt. It had short sleeves and a collar. “Try this.” Larry looked at it apprehensively.
“Can I wear jeans with this?”
“If you have a pair that aren’t ripped, that’ll probably be fine.” Larry sighed. “Sometimes you have to wear something that isn’t a t-shirt.”
“Not in my world, man.” Larry hooked the hanger over his arm and swung it from side to side. “What are you gonna wear?”
“I’m not sure yet. I was thinking about something, but I dunno.”
“Like what? Did you plan colors?”
“Nah.” Sal moved away, looking through more rows of shirts. Larry could tell by his eyes he wasn’t really looking.
“You good?”
“Yeah.” He kept looking, then spoke up without taking his eyes off the shirts. “Wanna help me find a dress?”
“Oh! Hell yeah, dude.” He held out a hand and Sal stared at it for a moment before slapping it gently. “Nah, a real high-five.” He regretted it immediately as Sal brought his hand down on Larry’s like a comet.
“FUCK!”
“Larry, we’re in a Target.”
“Why do I still high-five you?”
“I’m not sure, honestly.” Sal led the way to the women’s section.
“Have you ever…”
“Worn a dress? No. Maybe when I was little.” He adjusted a pigtail.
“Why now?”
“I dunno. It seemed fun. It’s just with family.” He paused. “Maybe it’s dumb.”
“Nah, dude! It’s tight as shit, go for it!” Sal paused. “I can try and pick if you want? I don’t have exper-”
“You sure?” Larry nodded. Sal stepped away from the rack, gesturing at it like he was a magician’s assistant and Larry was about to saw some poor audience member in half. “Remember your training, grasshopper.”
Larry stood outside the changing rooms as a kid ran down the hall using an oversized t-shirt as a cape. “Let me know what you think, ok? I dunno if it’ll fit but-”
The door opened and Sal stepped out in the yellow dress Larry found, with flowers on the collar and a simple skirt, still wearing combat boots. His eyes were wide, lower lids raised slightly.
“I. Love. It.”
.....
Once the day finally came, Robert did end up being the 5th member, acting as both officiator and photographer. The wedding was short but sweet- they’d each handwritten vows, they both cried. Larry hadn’t, but he’d spotted Sal tearing up a little. After they said their I-do’s, Robert pulled out a camera.
“Pictures?”
“Oh!” Lisa’s face was still wet, and she quickly moved to remedy the situation, asking Henry if she looked alright. “Boys, come on!”
“Are you sure, Lisa? Do you just want one with Dad?”
“I want all my boys in this picture, Sal. Now come on.” Grinning, the family bustled together, Henry slipping an arm over Sal’s shoulder, Larry bending down to Lisa’s height, everyone saying “cheese” far too loudly.
“This is going on the wall!” Lisa cheered, bringing them all into a hug. They all stayed there a moment, then broke free and thanked Robert. Sal grabbed Larry’s arm.
“Dude, did you brush your hair?”
“Yeah?”
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Lisa!”
She turned away from Robert. “What is it, honey?”
“Your son brushed his hair!” The two of them cheered and Larry put his face in his hands as Sal grabbed a handful, then lifted his mask slightly to smell the hair. “You washed your hair?”
“Yes! I don’t get why you’re so-“
“Is this real? Is this really happening? Did you actually wash your hair?”
“Dude! I wash my hair!”
“Not that I’ve seen!”
“You’re the world’s dumbest brother.”
“No, that’s you.”
Larry punched him in the shoulder, and Sal returned the gesture as the two boys ran inside to join the rest of their family.