“Lee said you won’t get married, though he wouldn’t say why.”
“Can’t, not won’t.”
I came out with a nebulous idea that’d floated around in my brain. “What about a fake wedding? Like, I got ordained online for a couple of friends years back. I checked, and you can do it pretty quick these days. What if I did that, gave my credentials to that Zhukov guy, performed a wedding in a splashy way right here in Wellhaven, and just never submitted the paperwork to the state. Would he ever know?”
“Ooh, I do like how you’re thinking.” Owen leaned forward. “Depends if they insist on a copy of the legal marriage license.”
“Except how many older married couples don’t have a copy anymore, or would have a hard time finding one? If two people are het and they show up as Mr. and Mrs. I bet no one bats an eye. This is all Zhukov’s little power play.”
“We’ll have to ask Lee. Figure out if we could get away with it.” Owen grinned. “Would be sweet, though. Make it a real queer wedding, rainbows and a kissing photo in front of the Wellhaven sign.”
“Would you want that sign in your wedding photos?”
“Not all the photos, but believe me, other than this bullshit with Zhukov, Wellhaven isn’t a bad place. At my age, I have other friends in nursing homes and I hear the stories. I did a fuckton of research before I picked here, and then waited nine months for beds to open up. That last place Harvey was in, no one would’ve started checking him over at six at night, just because he sounded a bit off. Anything less than a heart attack waited till the morning shift.”
“Lee will be pleased to know you approve.”
“He’s a damned treasure, that man.” Owen craned his head toward the hallway and listened, but we were well out of earshot.
To distract him, I asked what he thought Harvey would like to have in a wedding.
“Other than you playing something really inappropriate on the guitar? Hm. Flowers. We almost picked a different place because it had an awesome garden.” He chuckled. “I guess dancing boys are right out.”
“Not sure I could swing that.”
“Honestly? Him and me and a pair of gold rings. We’re not fussy these days. Well, and cake. That man does have a sweet tooth, and if you can’t have cake on your wedding, when can you?”
“A his-and-his topper, for the make-Zhukov-explode ambiance?”
“Of course.” Owen sighed. “It kind of blows my mind you can just order one of those, easy as you please. I went to a commitment ceremony, back, oh, must’ve been the early eighties. They had one, made by trimming the brides out of two het versions and gluing the two guy halves together. We never imagined it’d be on the shelf at Walmart.”
“Progress with some backsliding.”
“Yeah. Got to step up to keep the sliding from getting worse. You do vote, young man?”
I chuckled at being called young. “Always have. Absentee ballot when I was travelling.” I frowned. “I’ll have to figure out how that works if my driver’s license is suspended and my home address isn’t where I live. And while I’m on parole.” Could I even vote? Sometimes the reality of what I’d done hit me in newand exciting ways. Surely that restriction was only for felons? I tugged at my hair, distracting myself.
Owen tapped my knee. “And I’ll have to make sure my ID’s up to date with this address. Good reminder. Harvey’s too. We marched to the polls side by side and voted blue when Reagan laughed about men dying of AIDS and in every damned election since. If you let the bigots in, they can turn around and take away freedoms you’ve taken for granted. Hell, we’re getting our faces rubbed in that lately.”
“I bet Kashira would know how to get your IDs in order. Or maybe Phoebe.”
“I don’t trust that woman. She’s up in Zhukov’s ass. But yeah. I’ll ask Kashira.”
Lee came into the library. “There you are.”
“How’s Harvey?” Owen demanded.
“He’s fine.” Lee glanced at me. “Can you give us a moment?”
Owen waved him off as I got to my feet. “Griffin isn’t going to sell an old guy’s health secrets. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just HIPPA.”
“I’ll grab myself some coffee.” I made my way out of the library and picked up a cup of sugary brown water from the desk.
When I got back, Lee had taken my chair and Owen was looking relieved. He called, “Hey, Griffin, Lee says Harvey should be fine. Tell him about that idea you had, about the—” He lowered his voice. “—fake wedding.”
I glanced over my shoulder, then squatted between the two chairs, and explained to Lee. At the end, I added, “I’m not sure about my criminal record, though. I’ll have to check if I’m stilleligible to officiate.” The talk of voting had reminded me.If it wasn’t for my lawyer and the prosecutor, I might be a felon. I should be grateful. I am grateful.“Maybe it would be better if you did it.”
