I Cried at My Wedding

“She loves me. She loves me not.”

As I slip the matching diamond earrings into my earlobes, I ponder this sentiment. Jazz and I have always been together. At least, that is how it feels. From strolling up to her porch that first day in a new neighborhood to everything else, this day feels almost inevitable.

***

“Hi! Can I play with you?”

The girl, her hand in mid-air, looked across at me. The boy, pinned, followed suit.

My arms drew a closer circle around Sandy, my doll’s, neck. “Uh, it’s fine. Never mind.”

“No, no, no, don’t go.”

My skin bulged under the girl’s tiny grabber hands. Our eyes met.

“I’m Wynn,” I squeaked.

Her eyes glittered with unbridled playfulness. “Jazz. That’s my brother, Mordecai.” She said his name like a plague, her face contorting itself into that of a zombie.

Chuckles rippled through me; the sound surprising me at best. “Can Sandy play, too?”

“Definitely!”

*** 

It was the first time that I had been able to make friends and keep them no less. Now, I double-check my dress’ zipper. My face has already been made. The earrings reflect the overhead lighting.

“Are you ready as yet?”

My mom’s face peeks out beyond the edge of the door.

“Yeah, almost. What about Jazz? I could never get her to be on time for anything.”

My mom smiles behind me; the mirror framing us like a time machine.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, circling my side. “Moor is on it.”

I raise my chin and twirl as her finger directs. “That’s not any better.”

“Let the man take care of his sister for once please.”

“I suppose. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis?”

She grabs my arms, adjusting my eyes to hers. “Everything will be fine, my dearest Elowyn.”

***

“Ugh, what does a girl have to do around here for a decent relationship?”

Throwing herself on my bed in complete defeat was practically a sport for Jaslyn Lewis.

“In your case, every girl in town apparently.” I buckled down on the assignment before me.

She laughed, her scratchy voice echoing throughout my room. “Except you.”

My hands hovered for a second over the keyboard. At that moment, I stole a glance at the splayed-out form on my bed, legs barely touching the floor.

“Thank God,” I murmured.

A beat.

“And what is THAT supposed to mean?”

My glasses repositioned themselves on my nose bridge.

“Elowyn, I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Can you please not call me that?” I could have felt her sitting up, her eyes boring into the back of my skull.

“L-O-Wynn.”

My chair swiveled to face her. “And that answers your question.”

With her head cocked to one side, her jet black hair draped her face precariously as if it, too, was aware of all the danger lurking within.

I lock eyes with her. “Was it Q?”

She breaks our staredown. “Yeah. I can’t say why, though. Grapevine and all that.”

I nodded, tucking a stray strand behind my ear. “Then, how about staying single for a while. It’s not poisonous, I assure you.”

She leans forward, propping lanky arms upon lanky legs to cradle a porcelain face. A wide-toothed smile. “Wynn Hargreaves, have you been waiting for me?”

***

The vastness of the church somehow does not pick up on the flutter-flutter of my heart at the back of the church. The thorns protecting their flowers prick me to stay away. Each side of the aisle has been decorated with white peonies and flowing ribbons, making the pockets of distanced guests into bouquets of their own right. I raise my chest with every breath, easing anxiety out of my vocabulary.

“Want a smoke?”

Simultaneously, a muscled arm slips through mine.

“Q, hun, don’t tease her so.” A whiz of light pink coils atop dark skin takes its place before me.

“Have you seen her, though? A mess.”

“I am not!”

Anae looks back at me, her scarlet lip gloss shimmering. “Great, because it’s time to get married!”

I straighten my back, but Q insists on gliding their palm across my forearm.

“You got this.”

***

It was dark. We had said our goodbyes hours ago. My quilt was tucked over and under my head. My ears strained to ignore the tap-tap-tapping against my window panes sealed shut.

“Come on, babe ~ Let me in.”

The sagging fluidity of her vocal chords rubbed against me the wrong way.

“You know that my mom would kill me right now.”

BURP. Tap-tap-tap.

Under the covers, I whispered, “No.”

“Babe. Come on.”

This was not the first time in any respect. Climbing through my window at foreboding hours of the night? Been there. Hiding social drinking issues from parents? Done that. Thus, it was my destiny then that she should combine the two. I wrestled with my conscience to the beat of a whining drunkard.

“Ellie, I love you ~” In my mind’s eye, I could have seen the sloppy kiss being blown my way.

However, it took only one more bodily toss under the covers for me to give in yet again.

“Thanks, babe.” Her lips greeted mine before the night sky had a chance to wish me early morning. Beer stench infiltrated my mouth, scouring my taste buds with its second-hand audacity. Her arms reached for me and I allowed myself to be swallowed up in her presence. We danced backward onto the bed; Jazz claiming higher ground as per usual. 

I settled below her, tracing her silhouette with my gaze. “Why do you keep letting Anae talk you into ‘one more before you go’? It’s never one more with her.”

Her smile reflected the moonlight back at me. As her fingers pranced through my hair, I nuzzled her palm for comfort. “Well, she is pretty convincing.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at my lips.

“Yeah, I mean, who do you think helped Q to come out to their parents?” She slipped off of me, fixing herself at the head of my bed.

“That was her?”

Jazz nodded.

“Were they there tonight?”

Her face, now shrouded in the moonlight, tensed.

“Want to talk about it?” I offer a hand.

She shakes her head but takes my hand, pulling me into her once more. This is familiar as well. Even as I protested in action, she countered with force.

***

Everyone is waiting for me. Two words. Just say it. You’ve said less, surely.

“Wynn,” Jazz whispers to me, cautiously, “You okay?”

My tongue trudges against my palate, trying so hard to spark water.

Her hand encircles my fingers, marking my phalanges with that precious ring.

The priest speaks again, asking the same question again.

Do I…? Can I…?

In this vast church, surrounded by the persons both of us love, reality hits. I graze my eyes over the vision before me. Jaslyn is beautiful. From the French braid that accentuates her cheekbones to the deep navy blue pantsuit that she chose herself, this woman is beautiful. From playing dolls with me in her front yard to teaching me how to drive, she is beautiful. From being vulnerable only sometimes to taking her emotions for sleeves, her beauty takes my breath away.

And yet…

Those nights plague me in and out of sleep. Waking up to my best friend every morning for the rest of my life should be the lullaby that can soothe any bad day.

But…

“Jazz,” I start, but her fingers remind mine that there is a ring between them.

“Jazz,” I try again, but she is reassuring the priest that we can continue.

“Jazz.” Pointed murmuring shakes my resolve.

“Jazz!” Everyone’s eyes are on me, but they cannot see me, I am sure.

She smiles at me, as wide as ever, unaware of what I want to say. Her other hand reaches for my face and, in spite of everything, my heart recognizes it as home. Irony uses my eyes for crying.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“I do?”

The church plays its laugh track.

“No. I –” The tears are coming faster than I can wipe, my tongue treading saline. Every time I think that I can say it, my heart sends another wave to drown out my voice. I am speaking in bubbles.

“Wynn, it’s okay. We will get married and everything will be fine.”

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of this glassy filter. “No, we can’t.” The words are muddled with saliva. “We can’t.”

***

It was the day after. She had called me out to meet her at sunrise. It was always at sunrise. Looking up from my porch, I shielded my eyes against the rising rays of sunlight, giving her a chance to be seen.

“Good morning,” she grumbled because it was morning.

I said nothing.

Expletives escaped her, rolling her frustration off of her.

My shoulders rose to endure it. I could have only imagined what her hangovers felt like when mixed with any semblance of guilt.

“I didn’t mean to.”

I took a breath. “I know.”

“I will make this up to you.”

At this proclamation, I curled in upon myself. Like a puppet attached, her knees brought her to me.

“Wynn, please.”

My face buried itself even further into my lap.

“Ellie, please.”

On cue, I challenged her request. “Marry me.”