Billy's Valentine

1973. San Leandro, California.

Nine-year-old Billy Crumpet carefully traced the letters on the envelope. D-A-N-N-Y. He had scrawled everyone else’s name on their envelopes quickly, not caring how it looked. But for Danny, he wanted to make it perfect. Tongue clenched between his teeth, he sorted through the pile of tiny candy conversation hearts until he found the one he was looking for. MARRY ME.

Most of the kids in fourth grade didn’t use that heart. At nine, romantic relationships were still far in the future for most, and of course there was the question of cooties if a boy liked a girl or a girl liked a boy. 

In Billy’s class, it was required that each student bring a valentine for every other student, but it didn’t have to be romantic, in fact, it was far better if it wasn’t. It was customary to give the funniest valentines to the people you liked the most, use the more nondescript ones for everyone else, and just throw away the ones in the pack that said “I love you.” Most kids included candy conversation hearts, but not the ones that said anything too mushy, which they either ate themselves or gave to their mothers.

But the first time Billy had seen Danny, at the beginning of the school year, he knew he loved him. He loved Danny’s grin, and the way his hair was a little longer than most of the boys in class, with a little tail at the back of his neck. He loved the way Danny presented oral reports, so humorous and confident. He loved Danny’s striped stocking cap, and also how his socks were gray, not white like everybody else. The two boys had hit it off immediately, and spent a lot of time laughing together during class until Miss Flint had moved Billy across the room to another desk, surrounded by girls.

The day before Valentine’s Day, everyone in class decorated a brown lunch bag with construction paper hearts, and wrote their own names on it with a red crayon. Miss Flint came around with her big roll of masking tape, and affixed everyone’s bags to their chair backs. Then, when everyone arrived at school the next morning, they were given permission to roam the classroom, and put their valentines in everyone else’s bags. When they got to take their decorated bags off the back of their chairs and read the valentines inside, Billy could hardly contain himself. He knew which valentine was from Danny because of the enormous heart sticker on the envelope, and he let the rest of his valentines lie in a pile while he looked at Danny’s, which said "I love you." Then he looked across the room, and the two boys’ eyes met. Danny held up Billy’s valentine, took out the MARRY ME heart, and popped it in his mouth with a big grin, nodding to Billy across the room.

Billy and Danny were best friends in the way that fourth graders are best friends, together on the playground, hanging out after school, being taken on each others’ family outings. But at the end of the year, Danny’s family moved again, and they lost touch.

1990. Las Vegas, Nevada.

William Crumpet, at 26, was the youngest member of the team that Pritchard-Palmer sent to Las Vegas that year for the biggest industry trade show. As a consulting firm with important technology clients, Pritchard-Palmer didn’t have a booth at the show, but instead rented a suite of rooms at The Mirage to host clients and potential clients, and “took meetings” in expensive bars and over dinners prepared by famous chefs. So at this show they didn’t need any junior office staff except Mr. Pritchard’s secretary Donna. But William was eager and persistent, useful for running errands and making arrangements. He also owned a very good suit, and looked great in it, so he got to go “in a support role.”

The day the Pritchard-Palmer team arrived, clad in the cool grey and wide lapels of the time, carrying leather briefcases and minimal luggage, they presented a contrast to most of the excited crowds in the Las Vegas Airport. Around them, gaggles of young exhibitors, some already in their matching polo shirts, chattered and called out to each other as they collected big bags and boxes.

In line for a cab, William glanced ahead and his eyes met someone else’s with a jolt of recognition. Who was that? Someone he used to know a long, long time ago. But who? The other person seemed to notice too, but his group was getting into a cab and he glanced back once more, puzzled, and then was gone. It was only when William and his bosses were halfway to the casino that he thought of Danny, who he’d loved so many years ago in elementary school. Could it be?

There was little chance that they would run into each other at the show. The man who might be Danny was clearly with a group of exhibitors, and the partners at Pritchard-Palmer made a point of never going to the trade show floor. “Booth rats,” Mr. Pritchard called the exhibitors. Pritchard-Palmer clients came to them, in their suite, for a glass of champagne and smoked salmon and lucrative talk.

This time, though, one of their clients had left some important documents in his company’s booth, and William was sent down to the trade show floor to retrieve them. He raced down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and rushed to the client’s booth for the folder. Then, glancing frequently at his watch so as to not be gone too long, he briskly walked the aisles of the show, looking in every booth for the-man-who-might-be-Danny. Had the group getting into the cab been wearing matching shirts, and if so, what color? He simply couldn’t remember, and then, with time ticking by, he was forced to abandon his search before he had looked at half the booths.

Over the next two days, he eagerly awaited another opportunity to visit the trade show floor, but it didn’t come.

2003. San Francisco, California.

Laid off again in a volatile technology industry, Will Crumpet wasn’t worried. This was his second layoff, nothing personal, he was assured, just cutbacks, you understand. Both times he had received a nice severance package, so he could take his time and find a new, better job. He started his job search every day in a coffee shop in North Beach that was just a dozen blocks from his apartment. He bought the papers and a cup of coffee, and retreated to a corner table where he circled ads in the paper and drafted cover letters on his new Toshiba laptop.

That morning, there was someone ahead of him in line, and as that person turned away from the counter, both men stopped and stared at each other for just a moment before their usual city manners took over and they broke eye contact. Seated at different tables, though, they kept glancing at each other. Will covered his confusion by leafing through a newspaper, but his heart was pounding. Was it Danny? Probably not. But suppose it was? It looked like him. And suppose he let this chance drift away? He had to ask. Any embarrassment was worth just knowing. Wasn’t it? He would walk over there and ask.

But as he had that thought, he realized that the other man was standing in front of him. As Will slowly rose to his feet, Danny grinned the old grin, but tentatively. “Billy?” he said. “Is it you?”

2004. San Francisco, California.

Billy and Danny were falling in love in a time and place where their relationship was accepted, and it was a happy time for them as they dreamed and planned for a life together. Still, like all gay couples in those days, they lived with the knowledge that many would condemn them, and they did not have the legal right to marry.

For 29 days that year, the City of San Francisco defied the law and issued marriage licenses and performed weddings for 4000 same sex couples. Danny and Billy were excited to follow that news, and joked about the MARRY ME heart from fourth grade, but they’d only been dating a few months, and neither suggested they join the throngs lining up outside City Hall. 

A few months later, the California Supreme Court annulled all those marriages. But the joy of those 4000 couples had been seen and heard by the world, and it was the beginning of the end of a time when one group of people could tell everyone else who they were allowed to marry.

At the end of the year, Danny asked Billy to marry him, so they were engaged. A number of their friends suggested all kinds of commitment ceremonies and quasi-marriage events. But the couple wanted to wait until they could be truly, legally married in the eyes of the world, including the government.

They had special heart-shaped ceramic lapel pins made, pink with red letters that said MARRY ME, and they wore them like engagement rings, to remind themselves and the world of the bond they would some day formalize.

2013. Carmel, California.

They had dated for two years and co-habitated for more than eight. 

Then, on June 28, 2013, the U.S. Supreme Court of the United States ruled that states could not discriminate against same-sex married couples. Within a couple of years, this would lead to another decision, this one legalizing same sex marriage in all states. But Californians didn’t have to wait for that second ruling.

Two days after the court's decision, Billy and Danny got married on a beach at sunset, in the most romantic way possible. The timing meant that their wedding was simple, with just a few friends and siblings to stand with them. As they joined their hands and officially became husband and husband, they each wore two ceramic hearts, a pink one saying MARRY ME and a white one saying I DO.