Mariage d'Amour

They both trembled. The chill in the air might’ve been the cause, yet as they looked deeply into one another’s eyes—-they knew it was something else.

The swooning, peaceful fall weather they had enjoyed was on the cusp between winter and newly formed spring, and they had gone outside for a walk. The wind whispered and cried between them; suggesting a dance, suggesting they move toward the other—-closer and closer, as it was creeping up on them---making the trees shiver and the grass ache. The creaking and crooning and sighing of nature told the more perceptive, taller one that spring wanted so terribly to come forth---yet it couldn't yet. It made his throat hurt thinking of it.

One was colder than the other.

The taller one who had slightly long sandy brown hair and hazel colored eyes, the kind of eyes that were always careful and almost paranoid, now looked upon the other person with a direct gaze.

It was loving, extremely fond and very affectionate.

The slightly shorter person, who had rough, wavy dark brown hair and deep, heavy lidded amber brown eyes, smiled at his friend.

"Thomas, I don't think I dressed well enough for this short excursion," The man said with his chin tucked into his coat, a slight quiver to his words. "I know that there is a war about now... the men out fighting must not be better off than us."

"Edgar, darling, you did dress well enough, you just have thin skin. And I am sure at least the Northern boys are prepared enough for changeable weather. I heard they have more horses anyway." Thomas said with a gentle laugh, taking off his own coat and swiftly placing over his companion. He rubbed Edgar's shoulders for good measure. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you. Listen, I know..." Edgar looked around almost as to check if no one was around and then back at Thomas, "I know... this is one of the only ways for us to have privacy, but, it is freezing out here."

"Well, I live with my uncle now, and he is stern and all we do is work. You live with your sister, India. She doesn't like me. We don't have a lot of options," Thomas said with a tired shrug, and as soon as they headed into the forest, the trees dotting their path with less and less space between them, finally so heavy with the dead greenery covered with ice and frost---they settled down.

They found a rather large rock, more like a large, stilted stone, to sit on.

They sat down right next to one another, unabashedly.

And openly, happily, Thomas with a wide grin and Edgar with a blushing smile, they held hands.

To others, this would have given too much away. Their fierce, protective glances---the intimate way they spoke to one another at times---the way they made one another laugh---it was all conjecture.

But if one were to see this, then, it was not to be argued with.

They were something odd, those two.

Everyone in town said so. Especially about Thomas.

Thomas was off. He was someone who was too quiet, too much of a loner. Only talking to others if it was necessary. Living with his uncle; cast off by his parents for unknown reasons.

Edgar was someone different, but normal---for the most part. His family was well off, he came from a good background. He had artistic inclinations, and was well educated. He was social, but never had tried to find a female counterpart to marry.

Edgar was nineteen years old as was Thomas---and being bachelors at that age in 1861, it was definitely strange.

There was an easy intimacy between them that couldn't be replicated between even some more prolific, older couples in their town.

No one said it out loud. But it was there.

Thomas had known Edgar all his life, ever since they were children.

They had played together in fields nearby after school, rough housing and wrestling---playing in creeks and playing cards. Thomas actually had never gone to school. His family was so poor, they made him work---having two younger siblings to also take care of, his parents needed all the help they could get to procure food on the table.

He was so used to this life that even after he was kicked out of his family home, he still worked all day, doing odd jobs and little chores--- and then when the school bell rang, he would run over and greet Edgar where they would go off and have their time together.

Edgar mulled over this now as an adult, wishing that Thomas had had all of the same advantages he had as a child and young adult. As he held Thomas' hand, he felt the callouses and hardened skin throughout, and he frowned, squeezing tighter.

But Thomas didn't mind hard work; it had helped his family. He didn't mind the cold, either, that's why he gave Edgar the jacket. It also gave him immense happiness to see his best friend warmer and more content.

"I really am very happy to be here with you, Edgar."

Edgar nodded and sighed softly, moving closer almost unconsciously. "I am, too."

"Are you warm? Warmer, I meant. In the extra coat..." Thomas trailed off with red cheeks, and Edgar laughed melodiously. Thomas wished there was a way to package and sell that kind of sound---it was the most gorgeous sound ever to him.

"Yes, I am. Thanks to you. You are quite the gentleman. I love that about you."

Thomas swallowed harshly, and leaned in even closer. "And I love you, my Edgar."

Edgar sighed wistfully, leaning into the crook of Thomas' neck. "I've loved you for so long."

Thomas nodded a little. "I know."

"So, what can we do about it?" Edgar hadn't meant to spoil the sweet exchange of words, but crestfallen, he felt a bit frustrated that he couldn't express what he really felt about his long time companion in public.

"What do you dream of, Edgar, dear?" Thomas whispered, putting his arm around him, pulling him close.

"Do you mean at night, or what do I dream of for the future?" Edgar whispered back, watching their collective breath in the air, a wispy white cloud.

"Both, dear."

"Well, for the future, I plan to finish out my education. I plan to paint a mural for a famous place. A grand cathedral like in France. Like Notre Dame. I would love to travel. To study art abroad. Living in the United States brings me nothing but fear and dread."

"Your dream has been the same since you were nine years old. Oh, Edgar. This kind of world could crush the beauty you hold in your lovely, nimble hands..." Thomas said with a disquieting tone, holding up Edgar's hand in front of both of their faces. "But, I have heard that turmoil and pain can sometimes make one stronger than ever before. That true artists can create their.... what is the word?" Thomas paused and put their hands down, holding Edgar even more protectively now. "Magnum Opus. Yes. I have heard that through the most heart-breaking pain, they can create a masterpiece. Do you think that is true?"

Edgar looked at him a bit frazzled, nonplussed by the change of tone in Thomas' voice. He didn't know how to respond.

Thomas merely laughed. But, it sounded mirthless, with an ironic appeal to it that he only understood. "I only have nightmares. Nightmares, Edgar. Of losing you. Like I lost my mother. Like I lost everything. Of fires. Of pain. Of my father..." He looked away and then back at Edgar with a pained expression. Edgar looked at him empathetically, but not pitying.

"But when I dream of you---in the daytime, I close my eyes, and I think... of a sort of life wherein we create our living Magnum Opus. Where we can be free. Free from guilt and fear. And... it would be nothing like my dreams when I am asleep." Thomas gently stopped holding hands with Edgar for a moment. "My darling, I have something for you. You are the most talented artist. Yet, you have nothing to paint that you love. I found something for you. A flower that grows even in these conditions." He pointed to the frost and snow. He went into his pocket and took out a slightly smashed pale pink Peony. "A flower to show you my intentions that I am yours."

He handed the flower to Edgar, and it made the man choke up with an emotion that had been bottling up within him for a long time.

"Oh, o-oh, Tom...that's...." Edgar couldn't finish the statement. It tore him into a million pieces.

"Don't say anything. Just enjoy it. Paint something. Make something as beautiful and brilliant as you are."

Edgar wiped away a stray tear. "You said a lie."

"Huh?" Thomas looked at him confused.

"You said... that I have nothing to paint... that I love." Edgar smiled sadly. "I always could paint you."

Thomas looked at him passionately, placing his palm gently upon Edgar's cheek.

Edgar breathed in slowly.

Thomas' breath hitched.

They both leaned in, and chastely, gently---briefly kissed.

It electrified them both, sending shivers and shockwaves throughout their hearts and their bodies, and Edgar couldn't help himself, he moved so close, he almost fell on top of Thomas, making them both laugh.

They stopped. Thomas cleared his throat.

Edgar bit his lower lip, grasping the pale pink Peony carefully, admiring it.

"You never told me wha..what you dream of at night, Darling?" Thomas asked, his face bright red.

"Oh." Edgar nodded. "Yes. Well... I dream of flying. Flying everywhere."

Thomas laughed. "Really? All the time?"

"Yes. Though once I dreamt of you. Next to me... in my bed. I had awoken expecting to find you there. Yet, you weren't. My heart trembled and felt like it was missing a piece of it."

Thomas sighed. "Dreams always sound a bit funny, even the scary ones, since they are so dramatic and overblown in scale and logic. But that one made me sad." He put his pinkie finger in his mouth and chewed his nail, looking at Edgar gently. "Let's just say we will one day. We'll set up house. I'll work to keep things in order, and you'll paint and learn in school. We'll..." He looked around the forest in an accusatory, paranoid way as if to check if anyone was around and said slowly and quietly, "Sleep in one bed. Together."

Edgar grinned so widely, it felt like the whole sun had come out right next to them. And Thomas didn't even mind the sudden burst of warmth that hit his chest as he saw the happiness swarming their conversation.

"And... I will hold you all night!" Edgar said a bit loudly, and he covered his mouth, his eyes wide at his openly proud declaration.

This time, Thomas laughed unabashedly. "Oh, you slay me!" Then he stopped as Edgar looked at him with a pouty, slightly perturbed expression.

"Oh, Edgar, don't take my mirth as a sign that I do not wish the same. I do. Very much so," Thomas said suddenly with an urgency that they both felt, and Edgar jumped in to kiss him this time. This time, it was red, passionate, deep---and long, and they didn't stop the heavenly embrace for what seemed like forever.

"Promise me, then," Edgar said after they stopped their ardent kiss.

"Promise you what, Edgar?" Thomas said as he played with the other's hair, tugging at it gently. "I cannot marry you. Even if I were the richest man in the world, I could not find an officiator to marry us. Not legally. Yet, in my mind... I am already. With you."

Edgar was surprised, and said nothing.

Thomas smirked, making Edgar note how handsome he looked when he had that expression of smugness, an expression that he almost never saw on Thomas.

"Was that the promise you wanted, my dear, sweet love?"

"Yes." Edgar smiled, and they held hands again.

"We must be practical though. We must be sure that we can ensure our survival. If I must part to secure your safety and your security, I will do so. I would do anything for you."

Edgar grimaced at the words. "I would, too. But, I never want to part from you."

Thomas nodded, yet felt something pierce his mind like an intense wind cutting through a field.

He knew one could not see the future----but he somehow felt that the future only had Edgar in it, and he was to be left out. Somehow.

After that wonderful late afternoon date, they had gone back to their houses, and for the next year, they had found little ways to find privacy and time for each other.

Edgar painted several stills of life, and of nature, and some abstract----and Thomas loved them all.

He noted that Edgar loved to spend more time on the backgrounds than the actual subject(though the subject was still deftly and creatively done), and that the subtle layers and details were something ethereal and mystical to Thomas.

Edgar had tried unsuccessfully to get Thomas to work with a distant cousin who was training new workers in bookkeeping and banking---hoping to give his love a new career that didn't break his back, (he worked with his uncle for his keep and rent as a farm-hand) and even as Thomas was appreciative of the offer, he couldn't take it.

His uncle would've ousted him out on the streets for not working for him, and he needed to cling to his last remnant of family he had left.

One day, Edgar had out right decided to ask him about his family.

It might've been a impetuous query to some, but to Thomas, knowing Edgar practically his whole childhood, it was a question he had been waiting for but loathe to answer.

"You were always alone. At least, since I have known you. What happened?"

"I have told you of my mother. Her name was Maria. She had a condition of her lungs... and if something irritated her lungs enough... sometimes she would faint. Well, she stayed home with me and my two younger siblings. I worked instead of going to school. It was just the way of things. I had to." Thomas shrugged. "And... my father abused us horribly. He liked to chew tobacco. One time, he was chewing on this tobacco for a long time all day, and he was looking at me... I just knew what he was going to do. Wait for me to slip up, and spit it at me. And, that's just what he did!" Thomas said with a laugh that felt mocking and empty. "But, yeah... he was mean. He just was born that way, I think. Anyway, this one day, my mother was cooking. She was up all night with my baby brother, Nathan. And something caught fire. She got so worked up in a coughin' fit, she fainted with burn marks on her wrists, trying to put it out. Part of the kitchen was burnt up. I had to clean up and take over caring for my siblings until she came to. But... that was not until right...right when my father came home. I knew my mom would get a beating. A bad one. So, I took the blame. She said nothing, holding onto my brother and sister tightly."

Edgar was so engrossed by the tale, he almost stopped breathing for a moment, feeling his heart pound. "Oh, Lord, Thomas."

"He beat me so bad, I knew I had a few broken ribs. He spit that damned tobacco in his grimy mouth multiple times in my eye. Kept putting more in his mouth to spit more at me. I lost it and I yelled at him. He kicked out. For good. My mother apparently couldn't remember anything. But, she tried to sneak me things here and there until he found out... and that was when I found my way out here in Minnesota. And.. that is where I found you."

"Tom, oh...my God, that is horrendous. And some of the stuff the people in town say about you. If they knew... if only they knew..."

"They don't care. They only want to gossip and judge. They don't see the truth about anything. And if they saw our truth... they'd hate us for no reason other than for something outdated and superficial. Our love is just as real as theirs." Thomas stood up, their hand holding coming a bit loosely apart, "In fact, our love is more pure. It is something perfect. And I don't want to hide it."

"I know," Edgar said calmly, standing up with him. "I know that is hard. It is the most difficult thing ever. Hiding." He licked his lips in stress and sighed. "But... one day... maybe, we can be happy."

Thomas looked at him in disbelief. "You call this happiness? War? Death? They would probably kill us both if they found out we....you know...." Thomas said with an expression of pure fear all of a sudden. "You do know... I wouldn't let anyone touch you, right? That I would die for you. I would not let anyone hurt you. Ever!" The fear turned into panic, and Edgar felt the tremors of it washing over him as well.

The fear of being seen. The panic of being separated.

Edgar merely nodded, his eyes tearing up, and he leapt into Thomas' arms, holding him tightly, his arms around the taller ones neck. They pressed their bodies tightly and intimately against each other, warmly---and it felt peaceful.

"Edgar, I am sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry for."

Edgar caressed his cheek with Thomas'. Thomas felt a shudder of something, a pleasant chill, and he felt Edgar's love.

The heat that was emanating from his beautiful, brown eyed gaze.

“Thomas, we are one,” Edgar whispered.

Thomas took in a deep breath, the heat between them something he welcomed----and he kissed Edgar's cheek. "Always," Thomas drawled out with an affectionate stance.

They decided to go into town and get a drink.

Thomas went into the bar first, and Edgar followed, but not before accidentally bumping into a patron who was leaving.

"Excuse me," Edgar said quietly.

"Yeah, excuse you, you fruit! Shit-fire, you must think you don't need to apologize!" The tall man in boots and tanned skin yelled out, making Edgar look down. He definitely was drunk and smelled of cheap whiskey. Edgar could smell it even being a good two feet away from him now.

Thomas heard the exchange. He usually didn't socialize with anyone. He did not like to get involved with things that had nothing to do with him.

But damned be all, if anyone was going to insult his Edgar---he was not going to allow one moment more.

Thomas went over and stuck himself in between the two men. "Get on outta here. Leave him alone. He already apologized."

The man looked at him funny. "Who the hell are you? Can't that man speak for himself?"

Edgar looked over at both of them and said, "Yes. I can. I already said excuse me."

"Well, that is just swell! You all enjoy the bar then!" The man said with a sneer, turning around. Thomas saw the man get his fist ready, and ran to swing at Edgar.

But Thomas blocked it, getting punched right in his left eye.

Edgar got furious at the sight of Thomas' black eye, and aimed to hit the man back, succeeding in hitting him square on the jaw. The man stumbled back, rubbing his face heatedly, and then, in a flash took out his pistol.

The bartender was yelling something, but none of them heard it.

Thomas knew what was going to happen.

That man was going to fire off his pistol.

"Edgar, get down!" He yelled as he pushed Edgar down as hard as he could out of the range, and then as he tried to take the gun away from the drunken degenerate, the gun went off.

Glass shattered and hit the floor.

The large bay window near the entrance broke---and as quick as a flash, Thomas wrestled with the man, finally grabbing the gun, throwing it away from his reach.

Edgar was crying now, trying to grab Thomas away for them to leave, but to no effect.

Thomas couldn't hear anything.

As they were both still fighting on the ground, as he grabbed a long shard of broken glass, even as he was only aware of the splatter of blood all over himself and the shard sticking from the man's throat---an open wound of blood and blackness----Thomas felt catatonic and completely on auto-pilot.

Edgar stood frozen as he saw the love of his life protect him from certain demise, killing a man in his defense---blood everywhere, and all he could do was just stand there, helplessly.

“Pleas-please... Thomas! Let’s run... hurry!” Edgar cried, trying to grab Thomas' arm, trying to lift him up. Trying to take hold of a limp hand.

Trying to reach someone who had completely cracked.

The man made gurgling noises and thrashed around for a minute, then stopped.

Thomas felt dead inside, and only heard the shuffling of the boards under their feet, the creak of the broken window, and the shudder of wind whispering to them from the half open door. The smell of metal and the feeling of slippery liquids and blood made Edgar's blood run cold, but to Thomas, it was the same.

Edgar tried one last time to reach his beloved, as he heard a commotion outside. He heard the Sheriff coming.

Edgar put both hands and rested them on Thomas' shoulders and looked at the other's evasive stare.

"Look at me!" Edgar said almost angrily.

Thomas finally looked at him, but said nothing.

"I love you no matter what. But... there are people coming now..." Edgar looked around at the now empty bar, realizing the Barkeeper ran out to get the Sheriff. Edgar bit his lip. "I will tell them the truth. They won't put a man defending someone else to death."

There was so much they both needed to say, wanted to say---but there wasn't any time. Edgar gave Thomas the most doleful, horrified expression as the Sheriff took him away.

"Please, Sheriff, you must listen to me. He did...He only did this to protect me. That man was going to shoot me! Please... you have to hear me out!" Edgar said, but the Sheriff was too shocked by the whole scene to acknowledge anything.

Thomas finally locked eyes with Edgar one last time, snapping out of his severe shock for a moment.

He wanted so badly to kiss Edgar.

Even if it was one last time.

The day of the sentencing against Thomas Edgar couldn't stop crying.

He felt betrayed by his country, by the legal system, by the so called "Justice system" that founded their society.

He knew that Thomas had spoken to him often of a nightmare where a huge, towering ship had always come near from the shore, taunting him with shackles and the threat of impending doom, and of a ghastly, gruesome fate.

He had always woken up before he was carried on board. But now, even Edgar knew what that ship meant.

It meant his early death.

He had desperately wanted to be in the trial, but his family did not want the controversy of their good name being caught up in such a terrible and bloody murder.

He had corrected---it was not murder. It was self-defense. But no one would listen.

The day they executed Thomas, Edgar couldn't move. He felt crushed from the inside out. And he wanted death, too---to be carried off in the same ship of death that Thomas was---to be together somehow again, but it was not to be. He knew he must carry on, and live, and thrive.

To not let Thomas' brave and loving sacrifice be in vain.

Years past. Edgar kept the Peony that Thomas had given him--crushed between two pages of his favorite book.

He painted the pale pink Peony finally, thinking of Thomas the entire time, but it meshed against the backdrop of a harsh and violent sea, with a ship in the distance----and even further, a gorgeous and deeply detailed sunrise---far away from the storm.

It was titled: Mariage d'Amour

The Wedding that was not to be

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Here is the companion piece to this story.

I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a heart or a tip if you enjoyed. Thank you, Melissa

I am exhausted, physically and mentally. In so many ways. and this is the only way I can stay calm and happy nowadays.