We drive with the top down, taking in the California sun as we race up The I-15 North. We leave Riverside without a word to anyone. Everyone there disagrees with our relationship. So we leave to go where Money, sex, and power matter above all else. Its these three that are worshipped here like the wholly trinity. They make up the three executive branches that govern said land. Even filling in as judge, Jury, and executioner. Usually in that order too. We cross state lines on our way to Las Vegas where no one remembers your name. A little white chapel waits for us there. A page near the back of their reservation book reads: Mark Winters and Julie Blanch are soon to become husband and wife, ready to give themselves over to one another, to embrace each other always. It was written when Mark called ahead for reservations. They are Long elagont letters penned by the tall lesbian women who ran the little white chapel with her partner of 16 years. She wrote them because she understood what the words meant, because she knew what it meant to be married. The sacrifice you make while taking the leap. She hoped the words written and spoken aloud to Mark would resonate within him for years to come. However Mark and Julie knew none of this. All they knew was no one they knew could stop them from getting married and that they wanted to stop in Barstow on their way back to eat at the World's oldest operating Del Taco.

By C.L. Norby

From: United States