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Tony shows up at Gob’s house that night unexpectedly, with a bottle of Cabernet and a bouquet of roses. Gob is pleased; he had been imagining a long night of lonely TV watching ahead of him. He greets Tony at the door with a kiss.
“Are we celebrating?” Gob says, taking Tony’s jacket from him and hanging it on the back of the kitchen barstool as he sets the wine and flowers on the counter.
“Yeah!” Tony says, and Gob feels a thrill of panic at the complete lack of sarcasm present in his voice. Did he forget their anniversary or something? “Didn’t you see the news today?”
“The news?” Gob thinks back to the three hours of TMZ he watched earlier, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t see anything worth celebrating. Maybe they were reruns, anyway.
“There was a bunch of stuff with the Supreme Court going on. You didn’t hear about any of this?”
Gob shakes his head, bashful. Tony always makes him feel like he should know more than he does.
“They threw out Prop 8! You know, the thing banning gay marriage? So all the gays have to get married now!” Tony declares with a huge grin. “That’s why we’re celebrating—we’re getting married!”
“Mar….married?” Gob stammers, blinking rapidly. “Who’s the we in that sentence?”
“You and me, dummy,” Tony says.
“You and who?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Gob, you and me. We have to. Everyone does! Well, everyone that’s gay.”
“We’ve talked about this,” Gob says, shifting uncomfortably. “I told you I’m not sure if I’m really one hundred percent gay—”
“Yeah, but you’re in a gay relationship. So it’s the law now. The Supreme Court said so, Gobie.” Tony taps him on the nose and grins. “How about some wine?”
Gob nods quickly. His mind is whirring with images—him and Tony in tuxes, standing at the altar, smiling at each other in front of a priest. Do priests even do gay marriages? Isn’t that, like, against their religion? Won’t one of them have to wear a white dress? Who will it be? Tony, Gob decides. He’s smaller and his features are more feminine. Will his family come this time? Gob’s not sure if they’d be more or less supportive of this marriage than his marriage with Ann. Michael seems to like Tony all right, in any case. Maybe Michael would come. And Michael is good at convincing the rest of the family to do things they don’t want to do. Maybe it would all work out.
Gob pictures Tony in a flowing white dress, walking down an aisle covered in rose petals, arm in arm with his father. Repeating the vows. Saying I do. Kissing Tony before God and everyone to seal the deal. Pushing the dress up Tony’s thighs and ripping the garter off with his teeth, hands running over his smooth calves.
“Gob?” Tony is already across the room, settling on the couch with the two glasses of wine. Gob moves quickly to join him. He takes the glass from Tony with a grateful smile and tries to gulp it down, but somehow gulping wine is always so gross.
“So we…have to get married?” Gob asks, to clarify. It’s less scary sounding now that he’s imagined the whole scenario. Actually, it sounds kind of nice.
“I think so,” Tony says. “I guess I don’t really know when we have to. Like, if it’s tomorrow, or next week, or within a month, or a year, or something like that.”
“We can probably look that up,” Gob says.
“Yeah, probably!” Tony says. “I was thinking we’d do a magic show first. But not like your last wedding.” Tony does the “W” quotation marks with his fingers. “A real, good, foolproof one.”
“That sounds awesome,” Gob says. He’s starting to feel excited. Him and Tony, doing a magic show together? With a built-in audience? And they’d get presents? “Actually, when you first came in, I was kind of freaked out. But now that we’re talking about it, it just feels—right,” Gob finishes, as Tony says, “—right?,” at the same time.
“Same,” they both say, grinning, eyes locked on each other.
Gob sets the wine glass down on the table and snuggles up against Tony’s side, wrapping one arm around his waist. Tony’s arm settles across Gob’s shoulders and Gob leans his head on Tony’s chest.
“You’ll wear the dress, of course,” Gob says, running his fingers up and down Tony’s side.
“I was picturing you in the dress,” Tony says. Gob’s fingers come to a stop.
“Me—in a dress? Are you kidding? I’m like six feet taller than you. It would look ridiculous.”
“I would look ridiculous in a dress. I’m too masculine. You have such soft, feminine features.”
“I do not,” Gob says, stiffening.
“Well, we can figure it out later,” Tony says, clearly picking up on Gob’s annoyance. “We probably won’t have to get married tomorrow. Maybe neither of us even has to wear a dress.”
“What kind of a wedding would that be?” Gob says with a laugh. “Oh look, it’s just two grooms in tuxes up there trying to get married!”
“Nice try, guys!” Tony says, also laughing. “How would they know who walks down the aisle? And who carries the flowers?”
“That’s hilarious,” Gob says. He and Tony fall silent for a minute.
“Then again, why should someone have to wear a dress?” Tony says suddenly. “I mean…we’re guys. It’s a gay wedding. We can probably do it however we want.”
“You’re right,” Gob says. “Maybe we can wear whatever we want! Maybe we can tie it into the magic show!”
“Yeah,” Tony breathes. “Awesome.”
“Although,” Gob says, “I was kind of imagining ripping a garter off your thigh.” He moves his hand to Tony’s knee and tickles his way up Tony’s inner thigh. Tony squirms a little and Gob looks up at him.
“We could probably still do that part of the tradition,” Tony says. “I mean, we don’t want to make it unrecognizable as a—a wedding.” He squeaks mid-sentence as Gob’s hand comes to rest on his groin.
“I’m excited to get married,” Gob says, and he’s surprised to find the statement doesn’t even feel a little bit like a lie.
“I’m excited to marry you,” Tony says. He tips Gob’s chin up and kisses him sweetly. Gob climbs on top of him; he’s ready to celebrate.
--
Beep! You have one new message.
“Gob, it’s Tony. Listen, I was way off about that marriage thing. We don’t have to get married. I mean, we can if we want to, and it would be legal and everything. But I’m thinking we should probably wait until we’ve been together a little longer. Maybe we could try moving in together? Soon? Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
Gob looks in his rearview mirror at the thirty rabbits he just purchased for the wedding magic show. He sighs and turns the car around, heading back to the pet store. He’s had issues with this store’s animal return policy before, but he thinks maybe this time he’ll have more luck since they’re still alive and thawed.
Gob presses 8 to repeat the voicemail. Maybe we could try moving in together? Soon? Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Love you.
Gob smiles.