The script of our ceremony appears on the screen, but the words blur through my tears. How could I have forgotten? I floated through the wedding on a cloud. I thought, I will never be happier than I am today.
Beneath my joy ran a current of melancholy. My parents would never share in my happiness. My father could not give me away. My mother could not help me choose my gown. But I felt their presence in the ocean air wafting over us, clean and salty, in the waves whispering our names. My heart was full of adoration, full of love.
The next dreamy photographs show Aiden and me exchanging rings. I said, I will always be kind to you, and faithful, and forgiving . . . Aiden said, These are only rings, two chunks of metal. What I give you is my complete devotion, my undying love.
I replied, Our love cannot be lost, exchanged, or stolen. Unlike these rings, we cannot remove our devotion to each other, now or ever.
As I said, now or ever, I spotted Jacob sitting in the front row of the audience, looking in my direction, his gaze focused, riveted on me. The other guests were smiling, and Linny wiped a tear from her cheek. But Jacob’s face was tight, his lips set in a line. He didn’t look happy for us, not even a bit. And when the guests threw lavender buds as a send-off, he stood motionless on the curb. Aiden drove us away in his convertible, and I looked back over my shoulder to wave at our friends. Jacob was the only one who didn’t wave back. He dropped his cone of lavender buds on the sidewalk, then he turned and walked away.
The sunshine of that August day disappears. The pounding rain intrudes on my memory. A raging wind rattles the windows. I push Jacob’s chair back from his desk, my mind spinning. A more complete picture begins to take shape. I’m falling into Aiden’s arms on the trail, showing him the chiton on the beach, buying a silk G-string. I did all these things . . . with my husband.
Look at this ring, I said to Aiden. I was excited by the intricate carving, lit from above in the display case. Cars rumbled by; voices drifted around us in Pike Place Market. The fish stands smelled dank, of the sea, the sour odors mixing with the sweet, heady floral scents, the lavender lotions. The crowds jostled past us. Aiden came up next to me. He had to bend down to see inside the case.
Nice, he said.
They’re hand-carved by a local artist, I said.
Let’s get them.
But you don’t even know the price.
You can’t put a price on love.
We could look at other options.
What other options? We could look forever. Let’s get these.
That’s another thing I love about you, I said.
My inability to manage money?
No, your decisiveness.
It never does any good to waffle, he says. Your first instinct was good. You love orca carvings. We buy the orca rings. While we’re on the subject, why wait? Let’s get married, right now. Right here.
I laugh. Now? But I’m in jeans. We don’t have anyone to perform the ceremony. It’s too fast! I want our friends to be there. I need to plan, send out invitations.
Okay, compromise. We’ll plan a little. Tell them it’s a special event . . . We’ll surprise them. They won’t know why they’re dressing up.
Let’s think about this, I say.
There’s nothing to think about. You think too much. Tell them you’re celebrating a special birthday in Friday Harbor . . . We’ll shock them with a wedding. Last minute. I don’t want to be without you . . .
You’re not without me.
I want to tie the knot with you. As soon as possible.
All right, I say, giggling. This is crazy, but okay.
A week or so later, or was it two? When the guests arrived in Friday Harbor, they knew they were attending a special event, but they didn’t know what to expect. Jacob didn’t know. When he found out, he burst into the powder room at the Victorian Valley Chapel, out of breath. What are you doing? You’re rushing into this. You’ve known Aiden only a few weeks.
A few months, I say.
Hardly any time at all. Almost as long as you’ve known me.
How much time do we need?
More time than this.
You shouldn’t be in here.
Yes I should. Kyra, are you sure this isn’t too fast, too soon? He was not the groom checking on the bride. He was the best man, trying to convince me to postpone the ceremony. To cancel the wedding altogether.
With each click of the mouse, more breath is knocked from my lungs. In another photo, Linny helps me to do my hair. Wow, you threw us all for a loop! Several black-and-white still shots show Aiden and me on the dock in Friday Harbor, against a backdrop of old buildings, at the wedding with a small group of friends, including Jacob. The best man. Smiling, like he didn’t care. But now I detect the tightness in his lips, the way his smile did not reach his eyes.