Nothing

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” Those were the last words I heard before my mind became a jumbled mess.

I was the groom who had nothing to lose because I was nothing. I had no friends, enemies, family, or pets. I was pathetic. A brilliant scientist, yet an appalling human species. How in the world did I get into this situation? This marriage situation?

I know how. It began when I went to a diner to grab a late-night meal. I’d worked sixteen hours straight, and my body begged for food. Three people sat beside me at the bar, and their loud conversation about retiring young and traveling to see the world intrigued me. I soon learned Tom and Theresa were a couple, and Jill, the third wheel.

Tom swiveled in his seat to face me and elbowed my arm. “What do you think? You wanna retire young?”

“Never thought about it.”

He stuck his hand out. “Tom.” His handshake felt wet, wimpy-like. My grip of strength immediately made me feel superior, confident.

Somehow, in our conversation, I agreed to go to the movies with them. Seated next to Jill, it was only natural I should invite her on a proper date. Then there was a trip to Cancun, the four of us. Things moved rapidly, and before I knew it, I was engaged.

I became somebody. Somebody loved me. And not just anyone, but a beautiful dark-haired, brown-eyed darling. It felt good being someone, not nothing.

I looked up at the preacher, and he was staring at the crowd. Silence. No one objected to our marriage, but I felt a tug on my arm, and it wasn’t from Jill, it was from my mind. It wanted me to raise my hand, for I knew the answer to the preceding question about having any objections. Just like in my high school days, I knew the answers, yet, there was a chance I could be wrong. But I was never wrong, and I never raised my hand, either. I felt the beads of sweat manifesting on my forehead. Those lights. Those blasted lights.

 I looked down and saw the preacher’s shoes. Well worn, yet polished to the hilt. Mine were new and slick. Jill had me buy a tuxedo and all the trimmings. She said, “Greg, you need to own one. I envision all the parties we will be invited to.” Jill pushed me to be a great man. I could be, but did I want to be?

How did I let her talk me into spending so much on this wedding? I don’t know. Because of love, or because she made me somebody? Or was I somebody, but she wanted to make me into someone else?

“Who am I?” I asked myself as the preacher dived deep into a sermon.

I was not a religious man, but for the first time in my life, standing there, I felt something move inside me. What was it? My conscience? But where does that come from? From my mind? From society? Or was there indeed a spirit inside me? Did I believe in the supernatural? So many questions. Then, flash, I heard the words of the preacher say that a man should rejoice over his bride. Did I? Or did she rejoice over me? Or my money? Or my brain? Or the brain that made my money? The tension in my neck increased.

My bride slipped her hand into mine. Was that a sign? I didn’t slip mine into hers. Why? Did I not rejoice over her? Did she love me or want me? Did I love her? Truly love her? Or did I love being someone when I was with her? Was I happier than a nothing?

There wasn’t as much stress in being a nothing, but Jill said pressure makes diamonds. Does it matter to me? For I felt golden as I went about my daily work, enjoying the science and conversing with my co-workers about discoveries uncovered and the possibilities of what was left to discover.

Amy popped into my head. Yes, she was always at the lab. We had some good laughs together, but we were co-workers. There could never be anything more, for I was nothing to her—nothing but a scientist and friend. That’s what she made clear to me. But that was alright because I liked my life. That was until Jill told me I was not living and needed more to be happy and fulfilled. More what?

Jill took my other hand and turned me to face her. The preacher rambled on, and I heard the word love for the umpteenth time.

Was I loved, that part inside of me, that mysterious part so in-depth, unexplainable, and bewildering? Would she love that part? That mystical part of me searched for something within her. Yes, I concluded, souls existed, for mine met hers, and I saw it filled with fancy cars, travel, society, and big houses. Things! We never talked about money—yet she knew—had always known I was rich beyond measure.

What did we have in common? Discussing science was off the table. She was glitter, glamour, and dreams. That was all we talked about, but she did know how to excite me to my inner core, melting it even. That was something.

We never discussed religion, either, yet here we were in front of a preacher man, whose spirit interfered with mine. Yes, I suddenly believed there was definitely a spirit and soul, for I had met both at that altar.

Time stood still, and the room once again was silent. I’d missed something. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “What was the question?” I looked into Jill’s eyes and saw—nothing. I knew that look. I was that look. Nothing. My spirit and soul collided as I read the truth.

The preacher cleared his voice, “Do you, Gregory Allen Spencer, take Jill Anne Wilson to be your lawfully wedded wife? To cherish more than yourself? To put all others aside and to cleave to her forever?”

Forever is a long time, I thought as more sweat dripped down my face. I looked at the preacher, and his eyebrows begged for an answer, and then I looked at Jill and her anxious smile. I felt my eyes close. My knees buckled beneath me. How wonderful to get out of this situation so gracefully, I thought as I passed out onto the floor.

I was on the couch in the groom’s room when I came to my senses. A silent prayer entered my spirit for the first time in a long while. “I am nothing, Lord. Thank you for saving me from something.”