The dress is what catches the eye at first, of course. Pure white, long and flowing, satin and lace. It seems to glow, taking the diffuse illumination of the church and giving it back a thousandfold. It’s so gorgeous that it takes a moment to realize that the woman wearing it is even more eye-catching. Her tanned skin contrasts the dress exquisitely, and her brown hair is braided and wrapped in a bun at the back of her head. Her brown eyes are shining with tears that threaten to be spilled at any moment.
She catches my eye as she begins her walk down the aisle, and she smiles. That smile! It’s enough to weaken a strong man’s knees, but today my knees are weak already. I try to smile back, but I’m sure I do a poor job of it. I’m sweating, I’m shaking, and smiling is the last thing on my mind.
How do I love Laura? Let me count the clichés. She is my best friend, and she means everything to me. I cannot count how many times she’s been there when I needed her. I cannot count how many times I would have just given up had it not been for her. I love her more than life itself.
I just wish I were the one marrying her today.
She’s clutching her bouquet of flowers—red roses, what else?—but she manages to wiggle the fingers of her left hand as she walks past where I stand. All eyes are on the bride, but I don’t think too many people saw her do that—like a choice bit of military intelligence, For My Eyes Only. I see the small pink scars on the back of her hand—scars from the car accident we were in together shortly after I turned sixteen. They’re difficult to see in the dim lighting, but I know they’re there. I want to touch them, kiss them. Instead, I just turn and face forward as she glides past on her father’s arm.
She finishes her walk up to the altar where her groom awaits. The congregation is seated, myself among them, and the wedding begins. Dearly beloved, and all that.
I can’t take my eyes off of her, and now that the ceremony has started, I suppose there’s no reason for me to. Her eyes are still shining and now they overflow, tears slipping down her cheeks. Despite those tears she’s smiling, smiling at her groom as brightly as she smiled at me just a moment ago. My flailing mind, as quickly as it’s moving, can’t quite process what’s going on.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She and I were inseparable in high school. Most people thought we were dating. We weren’t, but it’s not hard to figure out why that idea was out there. We studied together in the evenings, went to movies or whatever on weekends, and even attended the dances together. In our quiet moments—when she wasn’t explaining chemical formulas and I wasn’t making her laugh—I simply reveled in her presence. I would catch her with her head tilted and her eyes far away as she lost herself in thought; I’d push a stray hair out of her eyes and marvel as she turned the full power of that smile on me.
Then four years ago, we went to college at opposite corners of the state. All of a sudden we were seeing each other during summers and holidays instead of every day. That was to be expected, though. Besides, we weren’t totally cut off from each other. We talked on the phone at least once a week, and there was e-mail—usually just short anecdotes about what was going on, filled to the brim with private jokes. We also got together on breaks and holidays. We spent a lot of time together the summer after our first year, and that fueled my hope that our time together would go back to normal when we were out of school.
Oh, to relive that summer. On our last night together before her return to school, we went for a walk. It was a clear, beautiful August night. Thousands of stars surrounded the nearly full moon, and shined out brightly from the blackness around them. I walked her up to her door to say goodbye, then hugged her fiercely and told her I was going to miss her. I didn’t know I was going to do it, but when she faced me, I leaned down and kissed her.
Her lips were so soft and warm beneath mine. I could feel the hardness of her teeth behind them. I could hear the crickets chirping in her yard. I could smell her skin. I could feel her hair tickling my face as it moved in the breeze. I’ll never understand how a moment can be simultaneously so short and so long. One second and one thousand years later, she pulled away, looking at me. I lifted her left hand to my face and kissed the old wounds I knew so well. She paused, her eyes never leaving mine, her mouth opening as though to speak. Then she turned and went inside without a word. |
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