We’d both agreed to a quiet, private wedding. Just me, Luke, and Willem, the guy Luke shares his body with.
Willem knew a friend who owned a beachfront villa in Tuscany, so we decided we’d get married on the balcony overlooking the sea. Kind of like royals greeting the crabs and clamshells. That’s what I said to Luke to win him over on the whole wedding plan. He’s a sucker for imagination.
As usual, getting through immigration proved to be a mess. Willem and Luke both had to go through extensive ID checks because the Italian officials weren’t all that caught up with co-hosted bodies. It took us a couple of hours, but I imagine it could’ve been worse.
On the drive to the villa, we rented an open-top Ferrari: a final indulgence from Willem’s friend. It even had a note on the dashboard wishing us a ‘glorious’ wedding. Willem turned the note over and snickered at what it said. I caught a glimpse before he hid the note. It said “Willem, you’re the real winner! ;)”
It left a bitter taste in my mouth through the drive, and Willem and Luke both noticed. I didn’t want to let on that I stole a glance at the note, but I didn’t want to pretend I was happy, either. Luke never liked it when I pretended to be happy. As for Willem—I don’t think he cared.
The villa looked old, like it was made the mid-20th century. Getting to it was pleasant, and the villagers looked happy to see us. Or maybe they were happy to see the car. Either way, it was a sunny afternoon when we arrived, and the smell of the sea was intoxicating, and the clouds were bright just like in the movies.
That night, I wondered if maybe we could evict Willem from Luke’s body. There was no way to ask Luke this without Willem listening, so I just ran through the conversation in my head instead.
Luke would probably insist that it wasn’t his body anymore, it was a shared body. I’d ask if maybe they could just consider it, regardless of the semantics. Willem would listen, quietly, attentively, like a panther preparing to pounce. Luke would probably dismiss the notion. “It’s worked out so far,” he’d say. “And besides, this is how you know me. This is how we fell in love and decided we’d get married in the first place. If you evict Willem, then we’re not the same anymore, do you understand?”
He hadn’t said any of that. And yet, in my mind, he had.
While we sat by the fireplace, both of us reading books, I stole a glance at him. Someone—either Luke or Willem—glanced back at me and smiled.
The day of the wedding was thankfully free of too many clouds. The sun looked so welcoming, it made me recall Greek myths of Helios. He’d stopped his chariot for us, to bless us with his warmth. The sea was loud enough to fill all of our silences. The balcony was just large enough for two.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” I said.
“This is the part where we put the rings on, right?” he laughed.