CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gold Bands
SERENITY
My finger taps my hip, gradually getting faster and sinking under pressure to my skin. The room is dusty. It’s my spare bedroom. Delilah stayed here for months, but she never made the space hers.
I try to envision myself packing up this room like forgotten scraps, ready to tuck away and lose in a drawer, or discard in the trash. This was never her bedroom, but it feels like I’m losing another part of her, and I have no idea how many pieces of my sister truly remain before the entirety of her is gone.
I fill the room with mists of lemon and chemicals. My hand stays within the cloth. Not a single fingerprint will cramp the room’s cleanliness. I wipe down the dresser Delilah never used and I clean the mirror that never got used to her appearance. I change the neat sheets and swap around unused pillows. All of it I do with my eyes wide open but hardly seeing, because if I watch this room empty of thick memories, I might feel empty too.
Once the room sparkles with freshness, a clean slate, I notice the hurricane buried in my chest. My finger reaches the lower lid of my eye, absorbing the smallest tear.
Absorbing. I think I absorbed more of this space than the rags.
I place a vase on the nightstand, rearranging the blooming yellow daffodils inside, but the happy shade of yellow makes the sadness and anxiety pulsing through me grow stronger. “Delilah,” I spin to view the empty room. “Delilah, I’m getting married today.”
The hurricane swirls up my lungs, and a rainstorm leaves my eyes. “It’s not for love, it’s merely for convenience.” My smile wobbles. “So I guess we’re not that different, right? Doing things for our own gain.”
The moment my lips seal, my breathing quickens, tightening around my lungs and suffocating any exhales, forcing them out of me before the elements have a moment to settle. I use the side of the bed to help me onto the floor.
Delilah would sit in this spot, staring at the blank wall. She wouldn’t even turn her head to see the sun.
“Why did you drag me into this situation?” I run my hands through my hair. “Mum and dad aren’t even coming, Delilah. They hate me.”
I try to tell myself they don’t. That they’re just grieving. But I couldn’t even find the courage to tell them I was getting married, and not because I thought they’d worry. I just know they wouldn’t show up. To them, the wrong daughter is the one walking down the aisle.
“I miss you, Delilah, I think. But I’m not sure, because honestly, you wouldn’t come to my wedding, either.” I sigh. “Nothing I did was enough, was it?”
***
I didn’t pencil in a breakdown, but shedding tears while communicating with the dead rank low among my bizarre experiences for today. I’m getting married to a man I met only a couple of weeks ago, because we’re friends that wish to help each other, and my attraction to him has nothing to do with it.
I dip a Q-tip in my micellar water to finish perfecting my mascara, smoothing out the product on my upper eyelids. Then I startle at the loud honking and almost pluck my eye out of my head.
My best friend continues slamming her palm on the horn. I stuff my mascara in my purse, quickly rehearsing to myself as I study the mirror. Then I stick my arms into my fuzzy coat sleeves and meet Jimena in the driveway.
“Here comes the bride! Get in.” She reaches over and pops open the door to her neon-red pickup truck–it’s a rental, and I’m not supposed to talk about it.
I waddle in my strappy white heels and climb in. She’s speeding down my neighborhood street before I shut the passenger door. I grab onto the door handle to keep myself steady. “Whoa! Where are we in a rush to?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” She huffs. “Oh! Right! Your wedding.”
I ignore her and buckle my seatbelt. Yes, I told Jimena that Lake and I are getting married. No, I did not answer the majority of her questions. I shouted over her gibberish and instructed her to pick me up today. That was the last we spoke.
At work, she keeps accusing Lake and me of being something more than we are. Then she asks if I’m making a mistake, if I’m sure, but those are questions I can’t answer myself.
I’ve been avoiding talking myself about everything lately, because I don’t have the time to second guess my outlandish choices. I spend my free time reviewing harsh documents, and if anything, all my secrets do is reaffirm that I have no other alternative than to marry the man who held out his hand and rescued me from drowning.
Every few seconds, I sense Jimena’s eyes burning into the side of my face. She’s making a point of not actively turning her head, but I know she’s eyeing me down. When her truck rolls to a stop at a red-light, that burning sensation doesn’t quit.
“Alright!” I throw my hands up. “What?”
She continues to side-eye me. “I guess I’m a little surprised you’re getting married to an addict whose life you saved, not even a month ago.”
I slump against the seatbelt. “Jimena, I promise I know what I’m doing.”
I have no clue what I’m doing, but a forgery wedding is the only option for Lake and me. I saved his life; he saved me from suffocating in anxiety, and now we’re in an agreement to help one another from falling backwards.
Brooks made his offer too good to refuse, because I would’ve married Lake just to help with his rehab payments, but a little support for myself is a bonus I couldn’t pass on.
Jimena adds, “I’m worried about you.”
My chest withers and my features soften. There’s so much I wish I could tell her, but I’m an adult. I need to handle it on my own. My parents were right. I brought Delilah’s baggage onto myself the moment I let her in, but now, I found a solution to keep my lawyer, so there’s no need to burden Jimena, or anyone else.
For a few minutes, all I hear is the sound of her four tires gliding along the damp road. I know my way to the city hall and every turn is a reminder I’m closer to binding myself to a man I barely know but deeply care about.
Am I doing the right thing? I don’t think I understand what that looks like anymore. I love and love. I empty my cup to keep everyone else hydrated, but the dryness I feel makes me beg for something back.
My sister gave me a few drops, so did my parents, when I was convenient to them. But why do I let everyone else overflow when I get nothing in return? What if Lake does the same thing? Will that be my last straw before I lose my mind?
“You do look beautiful.”
Jimena snaps me out of my thoughts. I study the short-white dress I’m in. It’s more like a cocktail dress, but it’s the only dress I had that somewhat fits the occasion.
I spent ten minutes displaying the cross-pattern and snatching my waist by pulling the strings on my back, and another five minutes scooping my boobs upward until they were perfectly perky and symmetrical. I run my hand up the tiny slit on my thigh. Even if my wedding is a sham, I want to look nice for myself. And maybe show Lake there’s more to his future wife than a bunch of scrubs.
“Thank you.” I peer at my best friend, and a similar tiny smile crosses both our faces.
I can see in her deep-brown eyes the worry she’s holding. I understand that clamped hand on the steering wheel wants to whirl us around and fly home, but my best friend trusts me enough to let me make my own choices. As long as I allow her to pick up any pieces.
City hall comes into view, and my heart plunges into my throat. “That’s Brooks’ SUV.” I point to it and the two silhouettes hiding behind tinted windows.
Jimena pulls into the closest parking spot. “Alright, are you ready?”
I shakily hold my hand over my heart. This is happening. I’m about to get married. Without my dad to walk me down the aisle and without a genuine smile from my mother. My sister is six feet under. My future spouse is an addict, so we can’t forget this day with drinks and cheers.
He doesn’t even love me. I’m his ticket to free rehab, and he’s my ticket to starting fresh. An exchange. We’re both a currency.
I feel like I’m about to pass out when Lake and his brother hop out of the SUV. Jimena squeezes my shoulder once before exiting her truck, and suddenly the world is moving too fast, but I have no option other than to follow.
I keep my eyes on my feet as I find my way to the sidewalk. My ankles are screaming to be released from these heels. I’m wanting to scream to get out of this situation.
This isn’t the direction I expected my life to go in. My parents wanted Delilah and I to do everything imaginable, establish a full-time career, marry someone steady, have babies. Be polished. Keep practicing an instrument and always cross your legs. Never eat enough or it’ll stay on your hips. Be perfect.
Each expectation is ingrained in me. I will never get rid of it. I always aspire to be perfect, but I’m so far off.
“I like the truck!” Brooks shouts.
“Thanks, I don’t.” Jimena stops beside me, reaching her hand forward. “I’m Jimena.”
I tune out their conversation as Lake’s feet stop at the sidewalk square in front of me. I need to trick myself out of my nerves to look at him. He cut his hair. It’s faded with his baby waves dancing on his scalp.
His fingers flick the cuff on his wrist, and my knees almost cave in at how perfectly tailored his suit is. A white dress shirt, covered with a handsome dark vest. I can’t even get started on how his black dress-pants hug exactly how they’re supposed to.
“Angel.”
I meet his eyes, but they’re lost, like he finds the world spinning a lot quicker, too. “My legs are freezing,” I mutter.
“You look great.” He swallows, scanning me from head-to-toe two full times. “Shall we?”
I give him a tiny smile. “Yes.”
Jimena and Brooks keep chit-chatting while they follow behind us. Brooks is asking way too many questions about Jimena’s truck.
I shudder as Lake takes my hand. “Relax, Angel. Gotta play the part.”
He smiles with all of his teeth, glowing for the universe to see. It’s a moment I want to save in my head forever. He’s smiling for a role he’s playing, but that smile, so bright and sweet with his crow’s feet at the edge of his eyes.
I want this to be real. I want a man as sweet as Lake to hold my hand while we charge into city hall to wed. With the biggest grins on our faces, like the love we share would cause us to combust if we didn’t slip rings on our fingers in the next few minutes.
But again, I remind myself that life doesn’t play fair. Lake is beaming because he caught his key to fit the lock, and I smile back, because I found my pawn.
I squeeze my hand in his. Just like I would for any friend whose entire life is about to change.
***
Jimena sits in the front row of the tiny church she drove us to. She remains tall and straight, holding my signed marriage license and fuzzy coat in hand. She gives Brooks a small smile as he struts up the aisle with a satin pillow pressed flat onto his palm.
He insisted on doing so. I expected Lake to find some old rings Brooks had lying around, but as Brooks gets closer, the light hits a stone, and the glint sparkles in my eyes. That ring is brand new. It’s gold with small clear stones building up at the front. The design looks like a flower.
My heart blooms. It’s beautiful. I have no idea how he got it, but he did.
Lake takes the ring and a separate gold band between his fingers. I grab the thicker gold band meant for him. Then I flash my eyes over to Jimena, and she grins at my face. She knows gold is my favorite.
“Now Lake, if you can repeat after me.”
I snap my head away from Jimena, and Lake gives the priest a sly grin, tilting his head in understanding.
How does he seem so calm? He can’t wait for an elevator to arrive without bouncing off the walls, or stop tapping his finger when the TV buffers, but he’s keeping his feet firm on the carpeted floor, with his eyebrows raised. That little wrinkle he gets between them when he’s stressed has disappeared.
“I, Lake Phoenix,” the priest begins.
Lake takes in a deep breath. “I, Lake Phoenix,”
“Take you, Serenity Madden,”
“Take you, Serenity Madden—” He looks me in my eyes, and the whole room stills.
He holds up both of my limp hands. I want to ask him how he got this ring, and how he knew I’d love it. Why did he get it for me?
“To be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health,” Lake says, and something about his voice soothing in my eardrums makes me believe him. “To love and to cherish, I promise to protect you, from this day forward, till death do us part.”
He bends my fingers for me and seems not to notice that I’m going immobile. That shining gold band slides down my finger. Then Lake does a small pull test, and the ring doesn’t budge.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
My heart speaks for me. “Yes, it’s perfect.”
His eyes pinch. “Good. I know you like gold.”
“How do you know that?” I blink and twirl my hand to catch the ring dazzling under the overhead lights.
He shrugs. “On your day off, you had a gold necklace. That stupid string on your phone is gold, and you always have those little gold squares in your ears. Even when you’re working.”
“You notice—”
“Serenity, repeat after me.”
I jump in place at the priest’s voice. I manage the worst recovery with a quick nod.
There is no turning back after this. I’ll promise Lake these empty vows, and my life will forever change. I realize he’s benefiting from this too, but I feel horrible using him to save myself. I have no other choice, though. Unless I want to end up on the street and eventually in prison. I need Lake just as much as he needs me.
So it’s time I suck it up, and that is what I do. I swallow any anxiety that threatens my marriage, and I repeat my vows to my fake-but real-almost-husband.
“I, Serenity Madden, take you, Lake Phoenix—” I can’t hear myself speaking. I’m too focused on how nicely Lake cleans up.
The handsome Phoenix proudly smirks as I talk. “To be my husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health.”
The game of life never plays fair. It cheats. I’m learning the only way to win is through cheating back. “To love and to cherish, from this day forward, till death do us part.”
The priest continues, and I watch in slow-motion as Lake says I do. I follow through with the same two words. Tying the two of us together and knotting the thread.
Then my soul floats free of my body as Lake’s rough hand leaves my palm and glides over my cheek. His other hand braces my hip and holds me still. I sink into his eyes, held under a spell as the dark roots keep me secured.
My lips gently part, and my vows are sealed with Lake Phoenix’s kiss. He holds his lips to mine and digs his fingertips into my hip.
Within the few seconds he kisses me, I burn to the ground. I become nothing, and then everything, as the earth rebuilds me into someone new.
I’m torn between wanting more and needing less once his mouth leaves mine.
He takes my hand, and the ringing in my ears disappears when the priest shouts, “lady and gentleman, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Phoenix!”
Jimena squeals. She jumps to her feet, clapping away obnoxiously. Brooks follows the same pattern in a quieter tone, rising to his feet, and clapping his hands.
He’s smiling for Lake. The subtle nod of his head is for Lake. He knows this time around is different. There’s something keeping Lake from relapsing. This time, Lake’s life will change, and I can only hope Brooks is right.
Jimena grabs onto fake flower petals and tosses them in front of our feet. We walk over the petals and push open the doors to the church. The sun blinds me. I drop my head to the ground, seeing the tiniest bit of grass peeking out from the snow.
Then Lake’s hand tightens around mine, and my body chills when the tip of his nose runs over my ear. “Thank you, Mrs. Phoenix,” another innocent kiss is placed on my cheek .