Page 93 of Hurricane Love

The weird smell in the apartment never seemed to go away, and truthfully, the space was a little too small for both of them, so a few months into their shared living situation, they found someone to take over the lease, and they moved into a two-bedroom house near campus with a fenced-in yard, strategic because they were thinking about getting a dog. It seemed like abig step to Diego, and a long-lasting commitment from them both. Wylie, as usual, was unfazed.

“Who’s going to walk it?” Diego asked, wanting to make sure that Wylie had really thought this through before taking the leap into pet ownership.

“We both will. If you have to work, I’ll do it, and if I’m in class, you can take it out.”

“What if we’re both busy?” Diego asked. His shifts at the restaurant often ran late, and Wylie liked to cram at the library before a big test. He didn’t want their future dog-child to be neglected.

“Then we can ask a friend to stop by.” He stared at him expectantly. “What else?”

“What if it, like, barks all the time or shits in the house?” Diego asked.

“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.”

“Okay,” Diego said, still working through all the possibilities. “What if we break up?”

“Are youplanningon 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’twantto 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 couchandin 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 dailyroutines, 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.