Page 42 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

“Enzo—”

“I have to get on this plane, Peter,” I said. “I have a job and an apartment and I’m not allowed to stay here forever anyway. I can’t just—”

“Love is taking a chance on yourself, Enzo.”

“What?” I faltered.

“People define love in a lot of ways,” Peter said, “but what love really is? It’s taking a chance on yourself.”

“I don’t—"

“It’s throwing caution to the wind,” Peter said, reaching out to take my hand. “It’s saying, ‘Oh, what the hell,’ and doing what you know is right. Even if you don’t have a plan. Especially if you don’t have a plan, because you can’t imagine doing anything else. Because doing anything else would destroy you. That’s what love is.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Enzo. Can you really imagine getting on that plane right now? Tell me you can picture yourself sitting in your seat right now, leaving the U.S. Does that even feel real right now? Did you really, really, think—when you got on the plane to come here—that that’s how this was going to play out?”

I searched Peter’s eyes as his hand clutched mine.

“Tell me that when you left Montreal that you actually thought you’d be returning unencumbered. Unattached,” Peter demanded. “Tell me you really thought you’d leave America without being in love and deciding that we had to be together. I knew that was how this was going to play out, and so did you. Even knowing that maybe we’re not on the same page about some things, I still know this is how it’s supposed to play out. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You are not wrong.” I shrugged. “I have had that fantasy as well, but—”

“Marry me,” Peter said, gripping my hand.

“I—”

“Marry me,” Peter said.

“Peter.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s not legal here.”

“It’s legal in Minnesota.”

“If the federal government doesn’t recognize it, that doesn’t matter since I’m not a U.S. citizen,” I said. “So, it’s not legal here.”

“Yet. It will be.”

“Until then?” I asked. “Two men being married means nothing here. And when will it be legal? We don’t know.”

“We’ll get married in Canada,” Peter suggested excitedly. Desperately. “I’ll fly to Montreal as soon as I can. We’ll get married there. Where it’s legal. Then we’ll use that to start the process of getting you into the U.S. on a more permanent basis. Then…maybe it will be legal here then? Who knows? Then we can get married here and get you citizenship. I can move to Canada and become a citizen there if it comes to that. But you’re not getting out of this car unless I know that this is just the beginning. I will hold onto you and you won’t be able to get out.”

Though I wanted to be offended at Peter suggesting he could take away my agency, I couldn’t be. Instead, I laughed.

“Peter,” I said. “This is ridiculous. It is…I don’t know what this is. But my plane leaves in two hours. We can’t just—”

“All I need is to know that if I fly to Montreal as soon as I can, you will be waiting to marry me,” he said. “That’s all I need you to do. Right now, Enzo. Before you get on that plane.”

Peter’s hand was beginning to sweat and I was certain it was from fear that I might reject his idea. As he gripped my hand tightly to the point of near discomfort, and I looked into his eyes, pondering his madness, I realized two things. One, there was nothing I could do to keep myself from being in love with Peter for the rest of my life. And two, when I had said “no” to Peter’s proposal the night before, it hadn’t been a real “no.”

“I have nothing to offer you,” I said.

“What?” Peter frowned.

“You have…you have so much in your life, Peter,” I said, all of the concerns I’d held trapped in my brain spilling from my lips. Concerns I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider since the entire trip had seemed like a daydream. Now, faced with possibility, those concerns poured from my brain like a flood out of my mouth. “I have nothing. I am…I’m a scrawny French guy with weird eyes and no family or money or…I am poor, Peter. I have no career. Nothing to call my own besides the secondhand things in my apartment and the clothes in my suitcase. I have seizures and pee on myself because I became too distracted by life and forgot to take my medication. You don’t want kids. Probably. I do. People might be cruel because of our age difference, and—”

Peter’s frown deepened. “Let people be cruel.”

“We are not equals in any way,” I said. “I have nothing to offer you.”