They would be in attendance, but would only do what they had to in the ceremony, nothing more. Between internships and jobs, Ellie and I had scrapped up a decent amount of money to get by on. Both of us would be graduating in a month. I’d already lined up an engineering job, she was still looking.We were taking a week off classes for our honeymoon. Both of us had all but secured passing grades in the leftover classes we’d taken our senior year.“So, what’s your wedding dress like?” I asked for the millionth time.“I told you,” she said with a smile, “It’s elegant…but delightfully slutty.”“Where are we honeymooning?” She asked me for the billionth time.“You’ll love it. I pulled some strings with some people to get it.”She’d planned most of the wedding, with minimal help from me, and I had, in return, taken over the entire honeymoon. We’d be gone nine days, two weekends endcapping a week of marital bliss. It wasn’t all that difficult to set up, so I’d been able to keep her pretty. I would wake up in the night and punch the floor in anguish, homoerotic fear and shame… I killed him a thousand times over in my mind…. His form extinguished by the hood of my car raging into him outside of his jock club, the mma fighting club where I’d first gotten homoerotic thoughts about him. I held it back and back and back… until one day, I thrust my index finger into my rectum and imagined myself dominated by all those who had flaunted their large male members. Even then, though, my killing thoughts lingered. I swore when I went off to college I would come back and kill him in the evening hours, my trusty green car battering the life out of him as I spun my tires away back to Maryland, awaiting a call that my friend had been killed, by a stranger no less. But I didn’t. I stayed my killing hand. I turned my thoughts to homosexual images of buff, bulging men muscles, glittering in tan, surreal Apollo rooms, while I shut myself in my college dormroom. That night, that first.
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