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Lots of soldiers got married. Some of them kept their rings, even in uniform. They spoke of their sweetheart at home, a ceremony done in a hurry, and a line of future brides and grooms in front of the church.Sure, there was the rationing -the usual feast was replaced with warmed up leftovers, people scrambling to put together something that resembled a meal-, and brides wore a dress that had already gone through countless weddings. But there was something about it.Tommy'd never thought of marriage all that much. His mother had been a single mother -raising her lot of kids with the help of the neighbours, of distant relatives-. She'd sent a few of his siblings out to their grandparents, had kept the others at home: sometimes, it was their old neighbour, an elderly, feverishly religious lady, that watched over them. The lady had never been married, and the grandparents didn't believe in things like marriage: they'd been together for so long, no one'd bothered to check whether they'd ever signed a wedding certificate.And even if the odd idea of marriage came to him, who would he marry? Two of his brothers had wives, but he saw them so rarely, and when he did, neither the brother nor the sister-in-law seemed happy to be seen together. He didn't understand any of that, nor did he want to: married, he'd be away from home, from his mother and his house.Wartime marriages.After Dunkirk, the man who owned the boat, Mr. Dawson, he'd made sure to tell every soldier they were welcome at his house. 'The world isn't all so dark, gentlemen: if you ever need help, my door's always open.' Tommy wouldn't've thought of it again, if it wasn't for Gibson.'J'invite les officiers et les soldats français, qui se trouvent en territoire britannique ou qui viendraient à s'y trouver, avec leurs armes ou sans leurs armes, à se mettre en rapport avec moi. Quoi qu'il arrive, la flamme de la résistance française ne doit pas s'éteindre et ne s'éteindra pas', said Général de Gaulle. In june, he called french soldiers to help free France with him: Gibson hadn't answered.It happened like that. It's not that Gibson didn't want to fight for France: him and Tommy just stayed together, and Tommy couldn't fight for France that way. Gibson fought, but with an english name, in an army of english soldiers.Tommy didn't know what weddings were like, in France. He never thought to ask before. He'd given France so little thought.But one cold morning, stationned in England, he came to knock at Mr. Dawson's door, and Peter, the son, opened it."Can I speak to your father?", asked Tommy, in a hurry, trying to warm his hands by rubbing them together. His breath made small puffs of smoke in front of him, and Peter gave him a confused look, but nodded."Come on in", he said, and Tommy went in.He didn't know what exactly Mr. Dawson did, but what he'd understood was something like a teacher or a pastor maybe.Peter got Tommy sitting down on a chair in a kitchen, very clean little space with white walls and yellow cupboards, and he said he'd get his dad, 'just wait a minute'.Tommy fiddled with his sleeves, wiped his hands on his trousers, waited, the clock on the counter going 'tic-tac' repeatedly.Finally, he heard footsteps, Mr. Dawson coming in.He had a kind face. That was the reason why Tommy came: the man had a kind face, understanding eyes, and he sat down in front of him, saying 'thanks Peter, I'll handle this', and Peter left the room, closing the door behind.Mr. Dawson studied Tommy's face for a while."Tea?", he finally suggested."I can't stay for long", replied Tommy, awkwardly.He shifted his gaze, stared at the window. Outside, the sea. Boats stranded for now, fishermen hovering over dark waves."I'm gonna get married", he blurted out.Mr. Dawson's face loosened into a more welcoming expression."Well, congratulations-""Can you do it?", interrupted Tommy. "Officiate a wedding?"Mr. Dawson looked confused, before slowly shaking his head."I'm afraid it's a priest you're looking for, young man. I'm only a teacher."Tommy's shoulders sagged a little."Why did you come here?", asked Mr. Dawson next."You saved my life", recognized Tommy. "And I thought you were a pastor or something like that."Mr. Dawson hummed in response, and searched into his breast pocket, taking out glasses that he wiped carefully with a tissue, before putting them on the edge of his nose."I do know how to conduct a wedding", he admitted. "But I have no authority for these kinds of things. Why don't you go to an actual church, or maybe to a mayor?""I can't."Tommy was regretting not accepting the cup of tea. He pulled a little on his collar, feeling all warm."I...", he started, hesitant. "I, it's not..."Mr. Dawson waited patiently."It's not..."Tommy glanced at their surroundings once more, hoping to find a clue, maybe he should leave, maybe he'd regret saying what he was going to say. He'd never said it out loud. He knew what might happen, if he spoke those words to the wrong person."It's a man", he finally said, words leaving his mouth too early.Mr. Dawson's lips formed a silent 'oh', and he took off his glasses.This time, it was Tommy that waited, as Mr. Dawson now seemed to think."It's a very dangerous thing, what you just said", said Mr. Dawson, and Tommy tensed up even more. "However..."He reached over the table, pat Tommy's shoulder a couple times."I did say you could come to me for help, didn't I?"Tommy nodded silently."Come tomorrow morning with him. Do you have rings?"Tommy nodded again, relief blooming in his chest, hot and burning."Alright", said Mr. Dawson, after some thought. "We can do this, if you'd like."After this, it was decided. Tommy came home -they rented a room in a house that belonged to an old couple, in exchange for a small sum of money and doing much of the manual tasks-, kissed Philippe senselessly, told him they'd go tomorrow, and when Philippe frowned, he repeated 'tomorrow, demain, he said we can go then', and Philippe had to sit down, his legs trembling.They didn't really have anyone to invite. Alex, who lived in the neighborhood, sticking around, was pretty much the only person they knew. None of Tommy's family members would've reacted too well to the news, and he still wasn't sure whether Philippe had any relatives at all. In the end, Philippe went to knock at Alex's door, repeating whatever english words he knew until Alex said 'you're mad, man' and said he'd come for sure.They had to take the train to get to Mr. Dawson's house. When a neighbour glanced at them, Mr. Dawson came out of the house, said 'they are friends of my son, Alfred', and the neighbour didn't ask any question.The curtains were closed and the house was dark, and they all got into the kitchen. There was Mrs. Dawson, a woman with a timid smile as she greeted the boys, Mr. Dawson, Peter, Alex, Philippe and Tommy. There weren't enough chairs for everyone, and Tommy and Philippe decided to stay standing."Catholic?", said Peter, while his father went through a book quickly.Tommy nodded."Please write your names somewhere", said Mr. Dawson, still going through the pages. "Is this your witness?", he added, glancing at Alex."I am", confirmed Alex.Peter gave them a piece of newspaper, and both Tommy and Philippe wrote their names down, making sure to make their handwriting readable.Peter gave his father the pieces of paper, before sitting down again.Mr. Dawson cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and Tommy instinctively reached for Philippe's hand.He felt a light pressure on his fingertips, as a response."Welcome, loved ones", started Mr. Dawson, squinting a little. "We are gathered here today in the sight of God and this witness to join together Mr. Evans and Mr. Guillet in holy matrimony."The silence that followed his first sentences was heavy, and Tommy saw Mrs. Dawson give a little squeeze to her son's shoulder. The lights cast odd shadows on the walls, and despite the early hour, Tommy felt as if the church bells might signal midnight soon."I'll repeat it in french for Mr. Guillet", said Mr. Dawson kindly.Tommy felt Philippe loosen up a little next to him, as Mr. Dawson slowly translated the text.Mr. Dawson read more lines, and Tommy and Philippe had to state that they came into this marriage freely, and without reservations, before Mr. Dawson read again."We'll start with Mr. Evans. Do you, Mr. Evans, take Mr. Guillet to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"Tommy could feel everyone looking at him. They all wore casual clothing, yet the solemnity of the event was not lost on him. He glanced at Philippe, his eyes wide and so familiar, and he felt nothing but peace, at last."I do", he said, however shaky and eager his voice was.Philippe's grip on his hand tightened, and he clasped it between both of his hands, as if scared to let go by accident."Mr. Guillet, prenez vous Mr. Evans comme époux, pour le meilleur comme pour le pire, en richesse comme en pauvreté, malade ou bien portant, à aimer et chérir, jusqu'à ce que la mort vous sépare?""Oui", blurted out Philippe, and he nodded, his curls moving along. "Oui, je le veux."Tommy thought he heard Alex sight in relief, but he was too busy with his own heartbeat, racing in his chest."Mr. Evans, please take the ring you have selected. As you place it on his finger, repeat after me", said Mr. Dawson, looking up from his book, " 'with this ring, I thee wed'."Tommy struggled to take the ring that he'd placed on the table, almost letting go of it, his hands sweaty, as he took Philippe's hands again."With this ring", he repeated, and he slipped the ring onto Philippe's finger, even if he knew that it couldn't stay there for long, that the war was still going on, that they'd never dare to keep this ring, "I thee wed.""Mr. Guillet, prenez la bague, et répétez après moi. 'Avec cette bague, je t'épouse'.""Avec cette bague", followed along Philippe, and the ring was cold against Tommy's skin, "je t'épouse."Outside, a group of people had started talking loudly, walking down the street. Tommy felt ridiculously happy, and he discreetly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, hoping no one'd noticed how soaked they'd gotten."I now pronounce you husband and husband", concluded Mr. Dawson, closing the book. "You may kiss the groom-”Tommy'd never kissed Philippe in public, and he thought it'd be awful awkward, but Philippe was quick to lean in, and he replied as he usually did. He almost became deaf to the cheers from the others and let out an ugly happy sob, closing his eyes as he moved away from the kiss, putting his forehead against Philippe.He could feel Philippe shaking, and hear him mutter 'je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime-'.Then, he opened his eyes, giving Philippe a last kiss, before Alex was all over them, congratulating them and repeating that 'fucking Christ, that was something'.Mr. and Mrs. Dawson and Peter were next to offer them their congratulations and best wishes, and Tommy refused to let go of Philippe's hand, even as Mr. Dawson said 'well, what do you say we eat now?'.They helped set up the table, Alex and Peter gave up their seats, sitting down on the counter instead. They'd all brought something to eat, and Tommy sat next to Philippe, their shoulders touching, Philippe's hand holding onto Tommy's, their rings clinking together."To the newlyweds!", said Alex out loud, raising his glass.Tommy leaned against Philippe."Je t'aime, aussi", he said.Wartime mariages.
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"Please sign here", he was told.He had to squint to make out the letters on the papers, but slowly raised his arm, bringing the tip of the pen to the paper.The register office was freezing. When they'd come into the waiting room, Tommy's niece helping him up the stairs, they'd been told that the heating had stopped working."Le chauffage", he'd told Philippe, who was lowering himself onto a seat slowly, the reflection from the lights on his glasses.After almost seventy years in England, Philippe could understand english alright. But these days, he kept needing people to repeat themselves, and Tommy'd seen him take out the old crosswords he used to do, back when he was still learning the language.Now, sitting in the room, signing his name next to Philippe, he was reminded of those war days once again, that cold that would get right into your bones and settle there, sea water in your lungs and wind blowing against soaked clothes.He put down the pen finally, and the woman on the other side of the desk gave him a smile, before sliding the paperwork over to Philippe.Tommy gave a light squeeze to the hand holding his, and Philippe slowly took it away, to take the pen.Wrinkled hands. What used to be strong, careful hands, were now shaky and livid, veins too blue, age spots scattered all over."Will you be holding a religious ceremony?", asked the lady, curious."No, just a simple ceremony", replied Tommy."Do you have a date and witnesses already?""1st of june. My niece and a friend will be the witnesses.""That's great", she nodded, before turning to Philippe. "Are you done, sir?"He gave a slow nod."Well then", she said, gathering the papers. "As you must've been told, you'll have to fill a marriage document during the wedding ceremony. That will have to then be sent to us, we will finish everything, and send you the marriage certificate. How does that sound?""Thank you", said Philippe."No problem", she smiled. "Have a wonderful day."Philippe reached for his cane, and Tommy used the sides of the armchair to prop himself up.Seventy years almost.The calendar behind her said '16 april 2014'. This was long overdue. When he'd heard that it was legal, that they could finally be legally married -even if, really, they'd already been living like such for decades-, he'd asked Philippe if he wanted.People around them seemed very happy for them. Alex -the damn bastard still came to visit them every once in a while- said he'd come to the ceremony, whether he had to be brought in in a coffin or alive. He wasn't going to miss it, he assured.The ceremony would be in less than two months.They went to stand outside the register office. Tommy's niece would be back with her car soon.It was a beautiful day. Philippe closed his eyes, leaning on his cane, as a ray of sunlight came to warm part of his face.Tommy looked down at the ring he still wore."I love you", he told him out loud.Philippe opened his eyes again, looking at him.His lips slowly stretched into a smile."I love you too", he said.Tommy moved closer to him, until their shoulders were touching, and they waited for the car, on the sunny parking lot.Marriage. Finally.