Yes, I Am

Chapter Sixteen.

Javier called to confirm that he was standing right outside the hotel, waiting for us like the loyal chauffeur he'd been throughout the little vacation. Caleb was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the knot of his necktie. It was a sin how he looked so heartbreakingly hot in a tuxedo. I could just eat him alive, I thought with gritted teeth. But it was time to end the charade and do what we had come here for in the first place- attend the marriage.

"What do you think you're staring at?" said Caleb, his hands on his hips.

"Go wear something ugly, you sexy moron," I told him.

"I don't own ugly clothes," he said proudly.

"Take some from me. I've got lots," I said. "But seriously, get out of that." I vaguely gestured towards him in general.

"You have a problem with me looking good?" He arched a perfect eyebrow.

I mimicked his expression. "I have a problem with you looking so good that I can't keep my hands off of you." I tugged his tie from one end so it became crooked and loosened up a bit. Pushing the collar aside, I pressed my lips against his neck. He smelled of faint cologne, powdered doughnuts and that unique scent that we associate with a certain person, the scent that induces a sudden pang of nostalgia, catching you unaware when you're doing something random, bringing a silly smile to your face and you have no idea why.

"Am I haphazard enough to be undesirable now, sir?" he murmured, hardly moving his lips as he spoke.

I took a step back and gave him a once-over. "Fuck no," I cursed. If anything, he just became more desirable.

Javier was, as usual, his completely jovial self. From the first minute, he had been so completely comfortable with us, like we were old friends meeting after a long time. He talked to us throughout the drive to Vermont, telling us about the various points of interest to our left and right as and when they came. When we told him we were going for a marriage, he started telling us about the large number of gay marriages that New York alone had witnessed. And it really was a very large number. And how he suspected that his sixteen year old brother was gay and he wished he would just come out already so he could set him up with that cute guy who worked in Starbucks because even he was definitely, definitely gay. These kind of stories gave me hope. Until I took a good look at my family and remembered that not all people in the world were so nice and accepting. Some were spawns of devils who would do anything to make you hate yourself and shrivel up in a ball of misery.

"You look brilliant, Mr. Westbrook. No need to adjust your tie," said Javier, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.

My hand dropped from my collar where it had been unconsciously fidgeting. I had progressively become more and more silent as we came nearer to our destination, a vague sense of anxiety pulling me from all sides like the marriage was a magnet that was sucking up all my relief.

"What's going on in your mind?" I felt Caleb's hand on the small of my back. "You've been really quite."

The car slowed down until it stopped at the entrance of the banquet. There was a chalkboard outside which proudly announced 'LAURA weds AMY' under a flowers scattered over a canopy of sheer cloth.

"I didn't realize how good it would feel to be out of the closet. I'm dreading stepping back in," I said monotonously.

He sighed under his breath. "Matthew-"

I cut him off. "No. Please. I'm not ready to hear about how I need to come out already." Without looking at him, I stepped out of the car and shrugged on my old identity like an uncomfortable mask that shrouded me into the darkness I was most afraid of. It was saddening how familiar that mask was to me and yet it had a new shade of discomfort that hadn't been there before.
We found Laura in her dressing room, surrounded by fawning ladies of all ages and generations. She was dressed in a brilliant white gown, cascading down her slight figure in waves just like her blonde curls that were intertwined with her veil in a beautifully complicated way.