On an Impulse

"No, we're not," Ultan said, about to take off like a shot. "I dropped the ball by not seeing what assholes my friends are—I mean, they're not even my friends; we just went out with them because you wanted to meet more of my friends, which I didn't have, so I got the next closest thing—but that's secondary." Samaira's head suddenly swam but Ultan went on, nervously fiddling with his glasses.

"I never had anyone make me feel like my family's political views were too extreme, at least not in Canada. So I didn't get what that looked or sounded like. I should have known this was the millionth time you had to grin and bear the kind of thing that happened Sunday night.

"It's not an excuse, but there's another reason why I didn't understand what Doug and them were really telling you," Ultan's voice dropped and he gripped the folded snare stand in his fists. "Samaira, I'm autistic. And I have ADHD."

Samaira's brain suddenly flashed back through all of it—him leaving the loud Queen Street club that first night, the itchy shirt tag at the wedding, the info-dump about snails, the jumbled thoughts when he was frazzled, the avoidance of eye contact. That is, right up until the moment he felt comfortable with her after their first kiss.

"I'm able to navigate a social situation as long as it's something I've been through before, but I don't always get what's rude and what's not. I see it as being honest. And I thought since no one raised their voices Sunday, no one had a problem."

"Ultan, forget Sunday," Samaira said. "I'm relieved those people aren't really your friends, but why did you think you had to present them like they were?"

"You... you wanted to meet more people in my life."

"You could have just said you only had a few close ones and liked to keep your circle small."

"I told you I was a hermit!"

"I thought you were kidding," Samaira slipped her arms around him and held him close. "But more than that, why didn't you just tell me you're autistic? You didn't have to hide it."

"Because," he exhaled against her ear while tightening his arms around her, "I've had girlfriends reject me before over it and I really, really didn't want that to happen with you."

Samaira pulled back and looked up at him, her hands on his shoulders.

"Like I told you on our first date, it's their loss. I get to have you forever, while the Julias of the world get to have their white dresses stained with Merlot." He laughed and held her again. "If I'd known she was that much of a wanker, I would have poured the entire bottle down her bloody bra." Ultan laughed, then kissed her forehead.

"You're sure you wouldn't have a problem not being social and going out all the time?" he checked.

"Of course not. Ultan, you forget that Redundant Contraption plays at least one show a week, plus band practice, plus my regular full-time job. I do enough peopling as it is. What I don't have enough of is blanket forts and information about snails."

She never, ever let anyone get near her after a show because she was self-conscious about how grimy she felt. But it was not only a relief to hold her boyfriend again; it was a balm she didn't know she'd needed all week.

"Come home with me tonight," she tilted her lips to his ear. "Aalia's back for the weekend tomorrow afternoon and I want you two to finally meet."

"You're sure?" Ultan asked. "You know you smell like sweet potatoes when you're sweaty?" He relished the tremors of Samaira's laughter against his chest. "But really—you want to introduce me to your daughter?" She pulled back and looked up at him.

"I want you to know I'm deeper into this than you think. Besides," she grinned, "you jumped through hoops to introduce me to fake important people in your life. I figured I should introduce you to the real important ones in mine."

***Epilogue, 1 year later***

After a few minutes of scribbling, Ultan handed the notebook back to Aalia and leaned sideways into the recliner in Samaira's living room. He winked at Samaira through the kitchen doorway a few metres away. The girl peered at the neat, explicit manner in which he'd solved the equation she'd been pulling her hair out over, then glared at him.

"If you actually got the right answer, I don't know what I'll do," she muttered, opening up her second-year Bio-Chem textbook in her lap and flipping to the back.

"I know what you'll do," Ultan replied. "You'll honour your end of the bet and clean up the kitchen."

"You teach kids my age how to take pictures; there's no way—" Aalia's slight English accent stopped as she found what she was looking for on the solutions page. "Fucking bellend."

"Aalia!" Samaira grimaced.

"Oh, come on, Mother, he's not supposed to—" She turned to Ultan. "If you can do Bio-Chem this easily, why the hell are you teaching art?"

"Just because I can do something doesn't mean it's a good idea," Ultan responded, a smile threatening to erupt from the corner of his mouth. "It's like cloning.

"After you clean up, I'll teach you a way to solve it that's probably easier than what your professor taught you. You take the equation and you make up a little story about it." Aalia raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Trust me. I've had to figure out a lot of alternate routes to solve problems in my life."

As Aalia went to relieve her mother at the dishwasher, Samaira dried her hands and sank into the recliner beside her boyfriend.

"I have something for you," he whispered to her, reaching into his pocket.

"Aalia's right there!" Samaira whispered back with a grin.

"No, not that. That comes later." Samaira's giggles faded when Ultan pulled out a ring box. "It's not what you think," he said, noting her alarmed expression. "Open it."

Samaira pushed herself upright and took the box with both hands. Inside, there was indeed a ring. But adorning it on top was a silver snail holding a pair of bejeweled drumsticks in its tentacles.

"It's ghastly," she laughed.

"I know! Isn't it perfect? This little guy could not keep the beat to any song if his life depended on it." Samaira chortles made the recliner shake, up until Ultan shifted his weight and took the ring box from her hand.

"Samaira Iqbal," he said, grinning. "Will you keep being my girlfriend, not sharing assets or a living space, but continuing to stay at each other's places all the time?"

"Ultan, it sounds ridiculous when you say it like that. I can't tell if you're serious or not."

"Oh wow, I can't imagine what that must feel like."

"I mean it! You're telling me you're perfectly happy with indefinitely not putting a lock on our relationship?"

"Well," Ultan sighed, "I already know this—you're it for me. Other than survivor benefits and financial security if you're really young, I can't figure out what other practical worth there is to making it official. More importantly, you said you never want to get married again, and—"

"What if I changed my mind?"

Ultan stared so blankly at her that Samaira instantly regretted saying those last six words. When all they could hear was Aalia clattering around in the other room, Ultan finally spoke.

"But... that would mean we'd have to have a wedding, right?" Samaira understood and exhaled in relief.

"Darling, no. After we fill out the forms, we can get a marriage license for around a hundred bucks if what I remember from Jo's wedding is still the case. And we can sign it anywhere with a registrar and mail it off." An idea struck her.

"What if we booked a table for 15 people at a restaurant—us, your sister's family, Felix and Jo, my band, and a marriage registrar? Or if you want to wait until the snow melts, have them all over for a barbecue in the backyard?"

"We can do it that simply?"

"Of course. I just want—if I break my leg or something, I want the hospital to let you in to see me as my next of kin. I love you and I want to share everything with you. Unless... you were serious just now about not sharing assets." Ultan snorted.

"Assets... baby, a lot of people have to die before I make assistant professor, then associate, let alone get tenure. I'm technically contract to contract right now. You'd be sharing a mortgage on my shack in Guelph—oh, but Aalia may not want to move. Would it make sense for me to move here?"

"Aalia may even go back to England after finishing school," Samaira replied. "She hasn't decided yet. It's sweet you're considering her, but don't worry about that. Just tell me if you want to marry me."

"Yes," Ultan kissed her. "Yes, totally. But we can't just get married on an impulse like that."

About a month later, he marveled at how swiftly he'd been proven wrong. He found himself at the end of a long restaurant table, looking at all the people who really mattered in his life.

"I didn't think it could be this easy," he told his new wife just minutes after they'd signed their marriage license. The registrar and their other guests were already headed to the buffet.

"Well, this unfortunately isn't my first rodeo," Samaira smiled, gently rubbing the top of her snail ring. Then she grinned at Ultan's matching ring, which featured a snail holding a camera. "But it is going to be my last."

***END***