“I can’t believe this,” my mother declares.
“Well,” I reply, staring at the rain outside. “It’s happening.”
“It’s just a shame that the weather couldn’t have been better,” my mother pipes up behind me as she adjusts my veil. “I was looking forward to a beautiful wedding.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. This is the moment I’ve been looking forward to for the last four years of my life, the day that Jake and I, who “fell in love at first sight,” according to Amanda, would finally be together.
“I knew it the moment you brought him home,” my mother smiles. “As soon as I saw him, I knew he was the one. He was just so…perfect. He still is so perfect.”
I tear my gaze from my mother’s beaming face and into the inclement weather. I’ve never felt happier, I try to tell myself. This is going to be the greatest day of my life.
---
“Who’s that guy?” Amanda asks, nudging me painfully. I look up from my dining hall tray.
“That’s Jake,” I reply flatly. I poke at my pasta, but Amanda nudges me again.
“Do you know him?” she asks eagerly. “He’s very cute.”
“We’ve spoken.”
“He’s looking at you,” she whispers. I look up once again, and his eyes lock on mine. He gives a hesitant wave, and I wave back.
“Go talk to him,” she insists, and I ignore her. But she continues to poke at my side with her fork.
“Fine,” I snap, rising up from my seat.
---
Another weekend night and I’m sitting with my head against Jake’s chest, watching Saturday Night Live on his decrepit TV. He picks up a lock of my hair and twirls it affectionately. “Leanna,” he whispers into my ear. “We’ve been together for almost four years now.”
“I know,” I reply, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Isn’t that amazing?”
“It is,” he turns me around, kissing me softly on the lips. “I still can’t believe it. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
I just smile. It really is the most incredible feeling, being in someone’s arms and knowing that you’re loved, knowing that there’s at least one person in the world who can’t live without you. It’s the sort of feeling that you just can’t break away from.
“But soon we’re going to graduate,” I murmur. “And we’ll be so far apart from each other.”
“Not necessarily.”
I turn to face him, surprised. “What do you mean?”
Jake releases me from his arms and stands up slowly from the couch. His eyes never leaving mine, he kneels down on one knee.
Oh my God.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time now,” says Jake earnestly. “And if you’re not ready, I’ll wait – but we have been together for four years and, quite frankly, I think you’re the one.”
I stare at him, unsure of what to do. I wait for my eyes to water up, for that nervous, ecstatic laughter, that rush of emotion that I’ve come to expect. But nothing comes, and even as he opens the tiny velvet case to reveal a spectacular square-cut engagement ring, I feel underwhelmed.
Damn those movies. They build up everything.
“Leanna,” he asks. “Will you marry me?”
I don’t even think about it. The answer is already written for me on a script. “Yes.” I say.
We kiss, and when we break apart, his look is that of unadulterated happiness. “I love you.”
I bury my face into his neck, taking in the sweet scent of his hair. “I love you, too.”
---
“Oh my God! I heard the exciting news!”
I flinch as Amanda grabs my left hand to scrutinize my ring, her mouth agape with shock. “This is beautiful. Beautiful! Jake is a doll. You are so lucky.”
“Yeah.”
“So lucky. So lucky,” Amanda shakes her head. “He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s sexy. And he’s capable. He is the perfect man. This ring just proves it.”
“Yeah.”
“You owe it to me, Leanna. You really do. You think this would have happened had I not told you to go talk to him? I knew he liked you, I could see it in his eyes. And now look how things ended up.”
“What’s going on?” I jerk my head upwards to meet the eyes of Sharon, my boss. Amanda waves my ring-clad hand in the air, and her mouth drops open. “Oh my God.”
“I know!” Amanda squeals, clapping her hands excitedly.
“I am so jealous. I mean, happy for you,” Sharon murmurs, gazing at the ring. “Hey, girls! Come check this out.”
One by one, my workmates huddle around me, ogling my ring and enthusiastically expressing their envy. After thirty minutes of “So when’s the wedding?”, “You are so lucky!”, and “Can I meet him?”, Amanda faces me, a glint of giddiness in her eyes. “You must really love him.”
“Yes,” I hear myself say. “I love him. I really do.”
---
“You don’t love him,” my mother declares matter-of-factly.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, I don’t.”
There it is, out in the open. My mother just looks at me with her penetrating grey eyes, the eyes that were once clear enough to show my reflection, that have fogged so deeply with age. She doesn’t speak for a few heavy moments.
“I was barely eighteen when I met your father,” my mother eventually begins in a raspy voice tinted with nostalgia. “Not much of a looker, unlike Jake, which I was a little disappointed about. But he was smart, and sweet, and capable, and he was well on his way to med school so I knew he would be rich. I knew he would be able to sustain a household, support me and my children. I knew that I was set for life. So when he asked me to marry him, I took his hand.” She opens her grey eyes and smiles. “And I was right.”
The silence rings across the room, and I clear my throat. “So,” I ask. “Are you saying I’m doing the right thing?”
“I’m saying no such thing,” her voice is peaceful, almost dreamy.
“Yes, you are,” A lump surfaces in my throat. “You want me to go through with this marriage. Just like everyone else.”
My mother falls silent. I hesitate briefly before the next question. “Are you happy?”
“Of course I am,” she replies. “I’ve lived a comfortable life and had three beautiful children who bring me great joy.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I persist. “I mean, are you happy. With yourself, with your life.”
“Of course I am,” my mother repeats.
“But you married straight out of high school,” I know I’m being inconsiderate, but I can’t stop myself. “You don’t know what could have happened. The things you could have done, the places you could have been. Hell, you don’t even know if you could have met a better person, even better than Dad. You’ve put your life in a box.” I finish, slightly breathless.
“But Leanna,” my mother says, almost pleading. “He’s so…perfect.”
“I know,” I reply. “And I know I should love him. But I don’t. I don’t want someone perfect. And there might be someone out there who I can fall in love with, but I’m not going to meet him if I marry Jake now.”
My mother’s expression is unreadable as she stares straight ahead. I know what I shouldn’t say now, but I say it anyway.
“I don’t want to live like that,” I blurt. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life haunted by what could have been, knowing that I might have given up something better.” My voice lowers to a whisper. “That’s not me.”
Her eyes are closed again, and her countenance reflects a bizarre tranquility. But when she turns to look at me, there is an uncharacteristic radiance in her eyes, a spark of life that I never thought I would see. “Then go,” she says, smiling, “before it’s too late.”
The bridal march resonates throughout the chapel behind me. I doff my wedding dress and stand in my slip, holding the door ajar. An unpleasant drizzle still pours from the skies, but I don’t care. Footsteps pound behind me, and I take an involuntary step forward. I feel my bouquet crush under my feet.
And I run.
But I have a few nit-picks for you. But my nit-picks are about your characters.
