The Fifth Wedding #2
Skye returns with two glasses of water, then looks to the front door. “Detroit should be here any moment. I texted him and he promised me he was on his way. He’s excited to meet you, too.”
“I really appreciate you doing this,” J says.
“Well, I can’t remember the last time anyone appreciated something I did!” Skye says, bemused. Then they add, “That was a joke. I swear.”
J isn’t sure. He senses that, for all their open demeanor, there are things Skye doesn’t want him to see. Which, of course, makes perfect sense. They’ve just met.
“How long have you lived here?” J asks.
“Almost two years! That’s when I moved in. Detroit’s been here longer. Much longer. It’s really more his house than mine.”
J waits to see if Skye is going to say that’s a joke, too. They don’t.
“How long have the two of you been together?”
Skye smiles tensely. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t answer that until Detroit gets here.”
J has plenty of follow-up questions to that statement—but also takes the statement to mean that follow-up questions should be avoided.
This isn’t that unusual for the interview process—he’s certainly been with couples who always wanted to answer together, partly out of fear that one of them would give a “wrong” answer that the other one would take the wrong way.
Still, he doesn’t want the time to be wasted, so he decides to press on.
..but gently. He takes out his notebook and brings up the recording app on his phone.
“Do you mind if I...?”
This time, Skye’s smile seems warmer. “Who doesn’t love posterity? Go right ahead.”
“Do the two of you make your living as performers?”
Skye lets out a big laugh and paces a little. “Um...no. I mean, we have a following—I promise there will be people there on Friday night. But having a following doesn’t necessarily pay the bills.”
“Please—sit down,” J says, as if he’s the host.
“You’re sweet,” Skye says, taking a chair close to the couch. “And cute.”
“For an old man,” J replies.
“Yeah, right. I’ve seen old men, and you are not one of them.”
Again, the sincerity of this comment gets to J.
“Now you’re the one being sweet,” he points out.
“It’s nice to have the chance,” Skye replies. Then, before J can think of a new question, Skye asks, “Have you always performed solo?”
“I have a band. You know Julia—”
“No, I mean, it’s always been you in the spotlight, right? You’ve never had to share it?”
“I guess. The whole singer-songwriter thing.”
“I’ve never done that. I bet it’s nice.”
J isn’t quite sure what constitutes “nice” here. So he asks, “Have you always been part of a group?”
“Duos, mostly. Ironically enough.”
“Why is that ironic?”
“I mean, right now polyamory is a big part of what Detroit wants in our...I don’t know what to call it. Our relationship? Our act? Our lives? At a certain point, they’re all the same thing, you know?”
You’re so lonely, J thinks. That’s part of Skye’s sincerity—its desire to connect to someone else’s sincerity, to be seen for what it is.
It’s at this moment that a key fumbles in the door. Skye reflexively stands and smooths the front of their shirt, as if crumbs had fallen there simply from talking.
Detroit enters the room and makes sure the room is paying good attention.
He’s wearing a black turtleneck and designer jeans, topped with a phalanx of scarves.
He bears a strange resemblance to Meryl Streep playing Ian McKellen.
Possibly Ian McKellen playing Meryl Streep.
Instead of apologizing for being late, he says, “Oh, good—you’re already here. ”
J stands too, now. “It’s great to meet you,” he offers.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Detroit says with a devilish smile.
“In all my years, I’ve never been asked to be in a fake wedding before.
Fake dates, for sure. Fake orgasms, more than I can count.
But a fake wedding? I’m just so glad we now have the constitutional right to pretend to get married.
Until it gets taken away by Clarence Thomas’s wife. ”
For a moment, J forgets Skye is also in the room...and then, when he remembers, he feels immediately guilty. For their part, Skye falls as silent as the furniture.
“Now, how does this work?” Detroit asks, unraveling a scarf and draping it over the sewing machine while keeping at least a half dozen other scarves on. “I can’t say you’ll be the first person to ever write a song about me, but you’ll definitely be the first person who’s ever asked first.”
“I ask you a few questions, get a sense of you for the wedding. I mean, we should call it a wedding, even though it’s obviously not a wedding.”
“Yes, don’t get this one’s hopes up,” Detroit warns. It’s only after he lowers himself onto the couch that J sits. Skye remains hovering until Detroit shoots them a glance. Then they, too, sit.
“So...how did the two of you meet?”
“Oh, lord, no ,” Detroit answers immediately. “That is the least interesting, most obvious question. How do you expect to get art out of that ?”
J looks to Skye for help, but Skye just looks to their feet.
“Okay,” J says. “We can skip that one. I understand that the two of you are polyamorous?”
Detroit likes this line of conversation more. “We are,” he says, leaning toward J. “There’s a very stringent application process to join us. But don’t worry—you’re already on the fifth page of the application, at least.”
J can dismiss this flirtation because it is in no way sincere. It’s simply the way Detroit talks.
“Is it exclusive polyamory?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Sorry. I mean, is it the two of you with the same other partners or do you...go your separate ways?”
Detroit laughs. “Such binary thinking! Can’t it be both?”
J feels himself blush. “Of course.”
“Sometimes we play together. But we’re also free to see other people.”
Now it’s Skye who laughs. Not an open, wanting-to-be-heard laugh. A private laugh that’s spilled over to public.
Detroit swings his focus to Skye and asks, “Do you find that funny?”
“No...it’s just that phrase. Seeing other people .”
“What about it?”
“It’s actually the opposite of what it means, isn’t it?
You’re not just seeing them. We all see other people—it’s a question of what we do when we see another person and want them.
Yes, you and I see other people. But we also do much more than see them.
You more than me.” Skye turns to J. “You understand what I mean, don’t you?
I’m just making a point about how silly that phrase is. ”
“I’m sorry,” Detroit tells J. “I had no idea this was show-off time! Suddenly my partner has become a lexicogitator.”
“A lexicographer,” Skye corrects.
“Yes, I know the word, ” Detroit seethes. “I was just playing with it for our guest.”
Skye goes back to looking at the floor. “You’re right.”
“And let’s keep it that way!” Detroit says with an attempt at a lighthearted air. “Now—I’ve already forgotten your question. Did we answer your question?”
The interview continues on a path that can only be called circuitous.
When J asks them how they spend their days, Skye says they work in costuming, and when they start to say what Detroit does, Detroit shushes them and says, “I want to be a mystery. You can write that down in your notebook. Detroit is a mystery .”
J asks about their names.
“I was conceived in the city of that name. But I won’t tell you by whom.”
“My mom was a hippie. My brother is named Oak.”
J asks about their performance art.
“I really think of us as sensation artists . It doesn’t have to be a pleasant sensation, mind you. I am more thrilled by a revulsed audience than a quote-satisfied-unquote one.”
“I think it’s a fun excuse for our friends to get together. Some groups do Dungeons and Dragons. We do performance art.”
J asks the secret to the longevity of their relationship.
“Honesty,” Skye says.
“Sharing!” Detroit replies. “Which, in our case, is the same as honesty.”
Detroit is now comfortable, in his element. Even though there are no cocktails present, Detroit talks as if to the whole bar. J is reminded of the missing cat, hiding somewhere in the apartment. Perhaps Skye, too, would feel better in another room.
J turns to address only Skye. “What’s the most romantic thing Detroit has done for you?”
Skye looks at him, startled for a second. Then, to J’s dismay, Skye bursts into tears, soon followed by apologies.
Detroit doesn’t move from the couch. J offers up a tissue from a box on the side table.