38. Matthew
38
MATTHEW
V oices. I heard voices while lying on the operating table.
“He’s losing a lot of blood,” a scrub nurse muttered, handing Dr. Torres a clamp to tie off one of the vessels.
“Get me two bags of O-negative stat,” Dr. Torres spat, changing instruments.
“He’s crashing.”
“Get a crash cart!”
“Are you sure you want those words as the engraving?” The jeweler eyed me, a young naive boy.
I nodded, never more sure of anything. Even at sixteen years old.
The shop owner sighed and followed orders.
I knew marriage was a big commitment, but there was nobody who I would want to share that bond with but Cassie. I saw it all with Cassie. Marriage. A house. A family.
Family.
Something she was never privileged to, at least not really. Not when she needed them most.
I vowed to give her the family she so desperately deserved.
But for now, I would give her this locket in celebration of her art competition, and on her eighteenth birthday, I would tell her to open it and we’d have even more to celebrate.
A roar filled my ears and my body felt weightless. The sounds of machines beeping echoed through the crowded room. Bodies moved this way and that. The lack of awareness plagued me, and I felt trapped inside my body. My mind drifted as I tried to regain consciousness.
A piece of me died when Cassie ran out into traffic that night. I knew things would never be the same once I saw her locket on the floor of my car.
It had been a promise of a future that now we would never have. A family.
The official start of us.
If only my timing was better. But that wasn’t right. No, timing had nothing to do with it.
Things would have turned out the same, if not worse, due to the constant interference we faced.
I was looking out the plane window, headed to Japan. But I couldn’t help but think of a future that was even more miles away.
“Cassie, open the locket,” I’d say playfully, caressing her cheek.
She’d laugh and say, “Oh finally, I can open this magical locket.” She’d twirl the chain around her finger.
I’d nod, and as she looked down to open the necklace, I would take that opportunity to kneel down before her.
Cassie’s eyes would widen as she read the engraving, gasping. She’d cover her mouth to stifle her surprise. Then she’d look down to see my kneeling position.
“Make us real,” I’d murmur, taking her left hand in my own. “We will pick out a ring tomorrow. I have an appointment with the jeweler.”
I would rub her ring finger gently. My eyes would meet hers as I shook, nervous about her answer.
Sure, it was early in our life, but nobody knew me better or vice versa.
Cassie would close her eyes, likely imagining the looks of disapproval from the people in my life.
But when she opened her eyes, she’d see devotion in my eyes. The same eyes that she saw when she first tackled me at four years old. The same eyes that she loved like I loved her.
This was our real beginning. Everything else was noise.
She’d nod as I stood, taking her in my arms. We’d kiss, passionately basking in happiness.
Happiness that was long overdue.
I stood there, still as a statue, trying my best not to let my impatience show. It seemed as though time was at a standstill. Not moving, just making me wait.
My heart practically stopped as I saw her turn the corner.
There she was—my dream girl, dressed in white, walking toward me. Toward our future together.
She was stunning.
Cassie never needed fancy things to look incredible. Her heart was beautiful enough in spite of how beaten down it was at times.
She took another step. Followed by a painfully slow matching one. One after the other.
Until we met once again.
“I do.” So simple. So pure. So true.
We both did. It was all we ever truly wanted. Once we both stopped the pretenses. The pretending.