Part Three: The Sound of Inevitability

“Are we not made for one another,
like notes of music,
though dissimilar?”
- Percy Shelley

After getting over the hurdle of telling my parents the truth, everything else kind of fell into place. Now I don’t want everyone to think that the reason for that is because I did the right thing. I didn’t do the right thing. Considering the circumstances I really just did the only thing I could have done for my survival. Even telling my parents the truth was an act of selfishness.

No, the reason that everything sense that day has been relative smooth sailing (I do mean to this day, though there have been road bumps) was because I was not in the driver’s seat. I have been going with the flow and up to that point I had been at war with everything.

My family, my friends, my body, my mind, everything was being engaged in combat of one form or another in order to be subjugated to my will. I dyed my hair, I wore clothes that didn’t fit (still do, it is something of a preference, besides being unavoidable. When your body is paper thin without being over six feet tall, you don’t fit anything except women’s juniors and boys 12-14). I espoused a slew of half-baked ideas in order to fit my faux-Christian attitude. But all that changed the day I told my parents the truth before they asked me to.

If you want to know about the particular elements of the miraculous that showed in the logistics and details of the next few months you should talk to my mother-in-law, who did a lot of the planning that brought some sort of possibility for a future out of the mess that everyone around her was making. I’ll get to more of my mother-in-law as a superhero later but for now let’s get back to some sort of coherent narrative.

I should probably start talking about how me and Lacey were sleeping together wasn’t just a physical thing. For a lot of people our age, it is purely physical. But we were two losers who, though we wouldn’t have put it that way, felt a little less disorganized and directionless when we were together. I don’t know what sort of moral fortitude or religious upbringing can withstand the force of passion that rose when we were together and was intensified by the loneliness we felt when we were apart. My relationship with Lacey was the only positive thing in my life (the lack of other positive relationships was my own fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that the only person I valued at that time was Lacey). And no moral fortitude had risen out of my religious upbringing.

All of this to say that though the circumstances of our wedding were shotgun in nature, for the two of us, the fact that we were in a situation where everyone was in favor of us getting married didn’t seem like a bad thing.