Diego
“We both will. If you have to work, I’ll do it, and if I’m in class, you can take it out.”
“Then we can ask a friend to stop by.” He stared at him expectantly. “What else?”
“We’ll train it not to. I mean, we can’t really control if it’s a barky dog, but maybe we pick one that’s a little more chill to match the vibe.”
“Are you planning on breaking up with me?” Wylie asked, giving him a look that dared him to try it.
“No, obviously.”
“Me neither. I love you. I want to be with you forever. You’re lucky I haven’t tried to put a ring on it already.
” He made it sound like a threat, but to Diego, it was the opposite.
Still, he didn’t want things moving too fast. When Diego still didn’t answer him, Wylie placed a comforting hand on the back of his neck.
“If it makes you feel better, the dog can be yours. Then if we break up, it’s up to you how we handle custody. ”
Diego nodded, feeling relieved that that piece of it was settled. Of course he didn’t want to bring a dog into a potentially broken home, but he did like knowing that he had some control over its fate.
“So, when do you want to go to the shelter?” Wylie asked, rubbing his hands together in excitement.
“I don’t know. Do you think we’re really ready to be dog parents?” Diego asked. This was a 10-to-15-year commitment to another living thing. Diego didn’t want to get it wrong.
“More than ready. You’re already super responsible, and I’m getting there, aren’t I?”
The look he gave Diego was imploring, definitely seeking words of affirmation. “You’re making great progress,” Diego said with a deep affection.
Smiling, Wylie said, “I can’t wait for you to call me ‘daddy’,” then smacked him on the ass.
Diego marveled at his boyfriend’s ability to make absolutely anything sound sexual. “Okay, well I guess we could go take a look.”
A few hours later, they brought home a medium-sized dog named Ginger, a three-year-old female, who’d been rescued during a recent drug bust by local police.
She had not been taken care of properly–too thin, and her fur was patchy in places from malnutrition.
But the worker at the pound assured them that with a steady diet and supplements, Ginger would regain both her health and her fur coat.
Her personality was already perfect, a sweetheart of a dog with a laid-back demeanor that promised to fit right in with their family.
They soon learned that Diego was the stricter of the two, teaching Ginger how to walk on a leash and obey commands with Wylie giving into Ginger’s charms for more treats and attention.
She was allowed on the couch and in the bed, another negotiation where Wylie was the victor.
The only time she was excluded, in fact, was during sex, as neither of them wanted to perform in front of an audience, canine or otherwise.
She integrated naturally into their lives and their daily routines, another extension of their love for each other, and when they went back to Largo to visit their families, Ginger came with them.
Wylie and Diego were visiting with his mother, the two of them sitting side-by-side on the couch with Ginger curled up on Wylie’s lap when his mother asked, “Will you be coming with me to church tomorrow?”
The question was directed at Wylie, not Diego, because his mother had learned that if she could get Wylie to come with her, then Diego would naturally follow.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wylie said brightly. “You want us to pick you up?”
“Yes, and I like to get there early. We’ll see if Father Frederico is there.”
“Wonderful,” Wylie said with an enthusiasm that was one hundred percent sincere.
Diego had questioned him about it, how he could give into his mother’s demands so easily, and Wylie had said that he viewed church as if it were her hobby, the same way Diego liked to work out and Wylie liked to go to the beach.
She wanted to share it with him, and so, why not join her?
Perhaps because Wylie hadn’t been raised Catholic, he felt no obligation to follow its tenets or internalize its teachings.
Diego had warned him that getting him to convert to Catholicism was likely her end goal, but Wylie had simply shrugged and said, “Whatever makes my future mother-in-law happy.”
Now, his mother only smirked over her tacita at Diego, as if she’d won some small victory, but Diego knew the prize already. It was Wylie.
“So,” she said, glancing between the two of them with a look that made Diego’s heart stop. “It’s getting serious then?”
Wylie smiled broadly. “Yes, ma’am, very serious.
That’s why we brought our firstborn Ginger here to meet you.
” He motioned to said dog-child who lifted her head at the sound of her name.
Diego’s mother giggled. Honest to God, giggled.
A sound so rare that Diego had to double-check that it had come from her.
“And, when’s the wedding?” she asked.
Diego almost spat out his iced tea, “Mom,” he spluttered.
“What? It’s just a question?” she said, making her eyes wide and innocent.
Wylie was quick to step in with an answer “We’ll have to wait and see, Ms. Machado. Diego likes to move slowly, you know. Make sure I can deliver on my promises as any sensible man would.”
Diego did like to move slowly, but it wasn’t because he thought Wylie might fail him in any way.
Still, he decided to play into this narrative if only to buy them more time and keep his mother’s questions at bay.
“I was promised a lawyer,” Diego said. “Wylie’s still got a couple more years of law school to go. ”
“And then there’s the bar exam,” he agreed. “But I’m making really good grades, Ms. Machado, so don’t you worry. It’s all part of the plan.”
His mother sipped her Cuban coffee daintily and nodded as if it was all but settled.
“One thing you must do, though,” his mother said, directing this instruction to Wylie.
“You have to take that thing out of your mouth for the wedding. I don’t want it in the pictures.
” She shook her head primly as if his tongue ring would be the greatest offense.
Wylie threw back his head and laughed with such gusto that he disrupted Ginger’s nap. She relocated to Diego’s lap where she curled up like a little fox. Diego ran his hands through her soft fur and watched the good humor light up his lover’s face. “Anything for you, Ms. Machado,” Wylie said.
“Isa,” she corrected, offering him the nickname that only their family used, short for her real name, Isabella. “You can call me Isa.”
Wylie smiled softly, understanding the significance. “I don’t know if Diego told you this, Isa, but I lost my own mother when I was sixteen.”
His mother nodded somberly, her eyes softening with understanding. “He told me. I lost my mother not long ago. It’s very hard.”
“Yes, for me too, the grief of missing her is something else, but the way you’ve opened up your home to me has really meant a lot.”
She smiled, blinking back tears and reached out her hand to him.
Diego realized then that his mother could be a mother figure to Wylie too, and that might be part of why he was so eager to spend time with her and adapt to her ways.
It warmed his heart to think that the two of them might have a relationship that existed outside of Diego.
Wylie turned then to Diego with a look of bald emotion. “And I want you to know that I love your son very much. He’s one of the best things to ever happen to me.”
Diego smiled, feeling that familiar glow of knowing he was loved and cherished and that he belonged. “We make a good team,” Diego said. Words were still hard for him, but he was getting better at expressing himself.
They stared at each other a moment longer, a quiet intimacy passing between them, an understanding that this thing they were building was a foundation to potentially last the rest of their lives.
And at the core of their successes and failures was the two of them, supporting each other, loving each other, forgiving each other’s flaws, and lifting each other up when they were down.
Wylie was the person he wanted to come home to, again and again.
And he finally believed that he was that same person for Wylie.
Together, they had built something steady to stand on, both of them brave enough to grow beyond who they used to be. Imperfect, and unfinished, but theirs. Entirely and finally enough.