Tristan threw his hands out in shock. "What?"
"You're half-dressed and he's in his underwear! How the hell do you explain that?"
"I … ." Poor Tristan was tongue-tied, and it was probably my fault.
I explained, "My car broke down after our date. He let me stay. But there was no sex, least of all in the bathroom, and I'll have you know not all gay men have lots of sex. Your insinuations are offensive."
"Insinuations?" she questioned, drawing her shoulders back, probably readying a strike. "I insinuated nothing. I'll flat out tell you men are nothing but shiftless lowlifes who fuck around. They can't commit long-term, because they lack the staying power. Gay men, straight men, you're all the same. But I can see the appeal of being gay. You go in knowing neither one of you will commit, so it's easier to fuck and run."
"That's not true!" I yelled as she mocked me. "I'll have you know there are hundreds of historically documented same-sex couples who committed themselves to one another, even before marriage equality." This was an issue I felt strongly about, for obvious reasons. "Gays have all the commitment resilience of anybody else."
She sneered. "Doubtful because you're men."
This woman, in my mind, represented all the hostile people who had mouthed off about homosexuality without knowing any of the facts. She was ranting about her beliefs without basing them on truth or experience. She was the worst kind of antagonist. I had to stand my ground. I stepped closer to engage her instead of yelling across the room. "It's true," I said, holding my head up high. "If Tristan hid his true self all these years, it's because of people like you who are ill informed and bigoted. Men can love each other and live their lives committed to one another, the same as hetero couples. Just because you can't hold on to a man, doesn't mean Tristan can't!"
I couldn't say I'd ever argued so emphatically about it before, but this was a topic I had contemplated myself. Because I'd been single for so long, I needed to believe that it wasn't for nothing. I had to hold on to the hope that my soul mate was out there-or possibly standing next to me-and I wasn't going to let this stupid woman crush my dreams.
She turned to Tristan. "Are you going to let him talk to me like that? Who the fuck is this guy?" She gestured at me with a flip of her wrist.
Tristan calmly regarded me and then turned to her and said, "He's my boyfriend." He lifted his arm as if to beckon me under it. I happily complied, and he hugged me to his side.
Teresa made a gagging face. "Oh, that's just peachy. I suppose he's moving in next. If he does, you can kiss seeing Claire good-bye. I'm not letting her come here every other weekend to see you flaunting your perversion in front of her, or hear you fucking in the next room. That's sick!"
"Stop calling us perverted!" I growled. If she were a guy, I might have considered punching her.
"Well, you are."
Tristan replied, "No, we're not, Teresa. Besides, you can't say anything. You've got men moving in and out all the time. Grant means a lot to me. He's not going anywhere. At least Claire won't have trouble remembering his last name."
I added, "I met Claire. She seems nice."
I shouldn't have said that. Her face resembled a roiling volcano, and I thought if she had the ability to narrow her pupils to a slit like a snake, she would have. "You let this random guy into your house and introduced him to Claire?" She hissed her question, making my previous comparison to a cobra even more plausible.
"No, they met at the gym, and he's not random!" Tristan held me tighter. I think he needed to reassure himself, or me, that his words were true.
Teresa put her hands on her hips and tossed her head like I've seen women do when they're about step a fight up to the next level. "Oh yeah? How long have you known him, Tristan? Two minutes? He walks into the room in his underwear, and you expect me to believe this is something more than a one-night stand?" She paused and changed her expression. "You know what? I wasn't sold on the whole gay thing, but I was wrong. This is exactly what two men would do. You play ‘daddy' every other weekend, and then fuck the rest of the time. It's pathetic."
She turned to leave. Just as she got to the door, Tristan grabbed her arm and whirled her around.
"Let go of me, you faggot!" she yelled, ripping her arm free of his grasp.
"I resent the things you accuse me of. They're unfair, and untrue." Tristan was angry, I could tell, but he reined in his rage. "We are committed to each other, unlike the relationships you have, and unlike your father."
She snarled, "How dare you mention my father."
"I'm saying, I think Claire would be better off living with me than she is watching her mother drinking every night and sleeping with strangers."
"You dare challenge me? I'll sue your ass for everything."
"We were never married, Teresa. You have no rights to my property. I pay you child support voluntarily for Claire's sake, but maybe I want more time with my daughter. Maybe I want to take you to court and file for joint custody, or better yet, file for full custody and give you every other weekend."
Tristan's challenge only made Teresa seethe. "Oh really? What court is going to grant you rights? You and your transient lover?"
"We're getting married," I blurted, stepping up to Tristan and looping my hands around his arm. He blinked at me in surprise. I wasn't sure why I said it, but the heat of the argument had gotten to me.
She threw her head back and laughed uncontrollably. "Married?" More laughing. "That's rich!" Still more laughing. It was bordering on ridiculous.
"Yes, married," Tristan interrupted her self-satisfaction. She was way too pleased with what she presumed was outlandish. "Just because you don't agree with it, doesn't make it less true." Although the fact that I had blurted the solution out in defense of Tristan's fatherly honor might be an indication of fabrication. I couldn't believe he was going along with it.
Teresa stopped laughing. She eyed him and then glared at me. "You're kidding."
"No, we're not," Tristan asserted. "We're getting married. We're committing ourselves to one another until death do us part, just like so many others in the country who've been given the legal right to do so."
"When?" she scoffed.
Tristan hastily said, "Tomorrow!"
I quickly came to his rescue with logic. "Tristan, honey, we discussed this." I patted his chest, and he looked at me curiously. "Tomorrow isn't the seventeenth." I moved my attention to the dumbstruck ex, whose gaping mouth could catch flies. "Tristan's been so excited to tie the knot that every day feels like the eve of our wedding day. I've reminded him several times that it's still a week off. He's just so excited." I giggled to play up the story.
"Oh, how wonderful. Two fags exchanging vows? Please. It won't last. Tristan is too selfish, and you … ." She paused. "You're too young to understand what marriage is about. He's got a kid, you know? What guy jumps into a marriage with a workaholic weekend father and doesn't realize his mistake two weeks later? I give you three weeks, and this little farce will dissolve on its own. Marriage between men?" I heard her hysterical laughter long after she slammed the door on her exit.
Tristan released me, and we faced each other by the door. "What have I done?" he asked.
"What have we done," I corrected.
He blinked. "Why did you say that? Why did you jump in and validate it? I could have called her later and told her I was angry and said things I didn't mean. She'd laugh at me, but I could have handled it."
I slouched, feeling rejected for my support. "I didn't like the things she said. They weren't true. She made me angry."
"Angry enough to say you're marrying me?" His voice contained an edge I didn't like or expect.
"A long-term relationship was your idea! I just went along with it."
"Out of anger."
"No!" I protested. "Out of haste. Yes, I rashly jumped into an argument I knew nothing about, but it wasn't completely blind. You said yourself you wanted this relationship to deepen into something permanent. You said I should think about what I wanted in life because you wanted to grow old with someone. You said I meant more to you than a one-night stand and that's why you wouldn't fuck me on the first date. You said all those things, Tristan, so excuse me if I got caught up in the moment and agreed to marry you on a whim. People do it all the time, don't they? Couples get drunk in Vegas and end up in an all-night chapel or something, don't they? We'll just be another one of those couples. But if you really don't want to marry me, then we can just do what you said and call Teresa. We can say it was a mistake. We can admit to being sexaholics who fuck in bathrooms."