No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.

Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. __

2015

* * * *

Tanner Bradac was a flight attendant, for heaven’s sake: ninety percent of his Facebook friends were gay. He knew from posts, status updates, and news articles on his feed that both Rachel Maddow and Fox “News” were breathlessly awaiting a Supreme Court decision that had something to do with same-sex marriage. If asked, he probably even could have told you that it was expected sometime in June. His best buddy Jesse was probably on the edge of his seat, too, but Tanner wasn’t an especially political animal. He supposed he’d just as soon not be considered a second-class citizen in the eyes of his country’s legal system, but he had no intention of getting married—least of all now that Jesse was coupled up with hunky Willis and off the market—and his interest in the impending decision and its ramifications could have charitably been described as casual. When his phone jangled him awake on Friday, crew scheduling informed him that a rather grueling day of flying had been miraculously canceled; this was much greater cause for rejoicing than any old Supreme Court decision was ever going to be, and Tanner celebrated by turning off his alarm and going right back to sleep.

Almost always, Tanner and Jesse flew together. By virtue of a fortuitous hire date early in their company’s history, they enjoyed a greater degree of schedule control than many airline employees, and they leveraged this to buddy-bid matching trips. The trips weren’t always pretty, but to Tanner, flying with his best friend rarely felt like work. Most days it was more like they were just hanging out, gossiping and joking around and watching boys walk by, occasionally handing out a Coke or a hit of first-aid oxygen as the need arose.

Jesse had called in sick for this trip, though—and he would be spending the entire three days in the company of a doctor, if anyone asked, never mind that they would be tucked up in a quaint mountainside bed and breakfast in Ouray—and the reserve gods had smiled on Tanner by assigning Jesse’s open position to his favorite little crush. Clark Arnold was a decade too young, a shade too pretty, and entirely too perky for Tanner’s taste, which made Tanner’s stubborn attraction to him annoying as well as distractingly titillating. They had made a very off-hand non-habit of passing the occasional Sunday beer bust together—of “running into” each other at Packers and drinking just enough to be able to blame the heavy petting on the bottomless beer—but otherwise they didn’t hang out. Tanner was nothing like in love with Clark; just because Jesse lasciviously declared something ten times a day, winking like he had a bug in his eye, didn’t make it true.

Clark was fun to fly with, but the prospect of a free day to run around town with the kid held even greater appeal. Seven-thirty was a tad earlier than Tanner would ordinarily have sprung from his bed, but when Clark rapped a second time and called “I brought coffee” through the door of his hotel room, Tanner wriggled into a pair of pajama shorts, undid the security chain, and bade the little bumpkin a warm welcome.

“Thanks for that,” Tanner said, gulping gratefully at the proffered cardboard cup.

“Sure. Lots to celebrate today, figured we might as well start here.”

“Free coffee magically appearing at my door is something I’m happy to celebrate.”

“I wasn’t sure how you drink it,” Clark said, pulling little creamers and a pile of paper sugar packets from the pockets of his figure-flattering workout shorts.

“Black suits me fine.”

Clark shrugged, then set about tearing the little foil tops off and upending one, two, three, four, five creamers into his own coffee, stirring sugars into it until Tanner wondered if maybe the kid wouldn’t rather have just had a milkshake. Big teeth; thick, supple muscles; the shaggy shock of his hair shining like Rumpelstiltskin’s proudest achievement—Of course he’s a milk drinker, Tanner mused.