Chapter Twelve A Fuss
On the third morning their Highlands hiking holiday hit a snag.
August was peak season for midges, swarms of biting bugs Danny figured could be held at bay with insect repellent.
But these midges were ferocious and for whatever reason they concentrated on Luis.
The bites were so persistent they sought the guest lodge owner’s advice, who sold them an old-fashioned bottle of Avon ‘Skin So Soft’ bath oil which he claimed was used by the British Special Forces training in the Highlands.
Luis had lain on the bed while Danny tended to each bite, rationing the small tube of hydrocortisone cream, carefully daubing each red dot while trying not to focus his attention on Luis’s ring finger now swollen with welts.
Neither of them had slept with Luis in discomfort and Danny preoccupied with the question of whether he should delay or cancel the proposal.
Thankfully the oil proved to be an effective protective barrier.
The sticky layer made it impossible for the midges to attack and Luis treated being greased up with good humour.
Danny joked that despite being middle-aged they had discovered a new kink.
With magnificent views in prospect and a clear blue sky they hoped the difficult period was behind them.
The walking was magnificent, made more pleasurable by the fact they were only carrying a small backpack between them, with the day’s provisions, grilled cheese sandwiches and home-baked oat bars.
Danny was paranoid about losing the engagement ring which he hid in the first-aid kit as Luis was unlikely to open it since he trusted anything medical to Danny.
After twenty miles they arrived at the Bridge of Orchy, their resting point for the night.
Both were in better spirits and eager to shower, rinse the oil from their bodies and enjoy a hearty dinner, looking forward to an unbroken sleep.
Adding to their improved mood, that night’s guest lodge was an ancient granite-walled farmhouse, the most charming and characterful so far.
At reception a woman checked their details against her handwritten register.
A note was affixed to their reservation.
As she read it her mood elevated from professionally polite to exuberant.
She explained that she was allocating them the most romantic room in the farmhouse with views of Beinn Dorain.
Insisting on personally escorting them to their room, she mentioned that one of her close school friends was gay and that he had stayed in this room with his boyfriend and they had found it suitable for ‘all their needs’.
It was so earnest and kind-hearted that Danny stifled a laugh.
As soon as they were alone Luis asked why she was behaving that way.
Danny confessed, ‘I spoke to the travel agency. I let them know that we’re a gay couple.
I wanted to make sure no one had an issue with it. ’
Luis countered, ‘Except you made an issue out of it.’
Ordinarily Danny would defuse most disagreements; he hated arguments and rarely felt the need to be proven right, but on this subject he dug in.
‘It’s better than dreading the moment of check-in when they expect us to take separate rooms or separate beds. In Cairo we changed hotel.’
The manager had refused to give them a room with a double bed, offering them a ground-floor room with twin beds facing a rubbish-strewn alley, when they had paid for a Nile-view room.
He told them the hotel was overbooked and when this was queried, he suggested, if they were unhappy, they could stay somewhere else.
They would not be refunded. They had left, losing all their money. Remembering the events, Luis nodded.
‘Once, in twenty years of travelling, one bad experience.’
Danny said, ‘Luis, she was sweet. She was nice. She was—’
Luis cut in, ‘She was nervous. You put her on edge. You put me on edge. And I know that I’m tired. But I’m also tired of always being confronted with it. I’m tired of it always being an issue even when we’re halfway up a mountain in the middle of nowhere.’
His use of the word ‘it’ made their sexuality sound separate to them. Danny tried to keep his voice steady, but he was no longer in control of his passions and the words tumbled out.
‘Maybe when it goes wrong those times upset me more than they upset you.’
Moving towards the bathroom Luis declared, ‘If you’re always trying to stop something bad from happening, you’re always going to be defined by it.’
Irritated by the condescending tone, Danny shot back, ‘I am defined by it!’
This caused Luis to stop at the bathroom door.
‘But I don’t need this hiking holiday to be defined by it. I don’t need the Highlands to be defined by it.’
With that said, Luis stepped into the bathroom.
Danny perched on the end of the bed, citrus oil and sweat beading on his cheeks like synthetic tears.
Mist crept into the valley, pooling at the base of the mountains – impressive, if he had been in a good mood, but right now it felt foreboding.
He couldn’t explain that the real reason he was being hypervigilant was because he wanted the proposal to go perfectly, except his hypervigilance had provoked a conflict he wanted to avoid.
And Luis was right, he couldn’t incubate them from the world.
It was a fool’s errand to try. He was still watching the slow creep of the mist when Luis stepped out of the shower, clean and calm, kissing Danny on the side of his head.
‘I’m sorry.’
But all Danny could think about was the idea that he had made a fuss.
Luis might see a wedding the same way – as an unnecessary fuss, questioning the point of an expensive and time-consuming ceremony which would achieve nothing more than legally rebranding them as civil partners, a compromise label that they had rejected eight years ago.
Luis didn’t want to be defined by it. Civil partnership would define them.
It was possible that Danny had placed too much value on the tradition of surprise.
He should have tested the waters. Yet traditions existed for a reason.
Marriages were proposed, not debated. You were supposed to be able to read your partner and make the call. Danny had made the call.