Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
HAPPILY EVER AFTER (ISH)
Bancroft
My childhood bedroom hasn’t changed. I like that it’s never changed, even if I have. I’m sitting on the window seat, tufted and upholstered in some pattern I picked when I thought rainbows on a window seat would be a good-long term choice. And my parents didn’t try to talk me out of it. Even as the rest of the room developed, when pictures and posters were rotated through frames and the walls changed colors, eventually in high school settling on this forest green, the room is the same. It grew up like I did, but unlike me, was preserved. The way some things stay frozen when they hold all of your secrets.
The walls have witnessed everything from first crushes to the last, college acceptance letters, late-night study sessions to early morning doubts. I don’t have doubts sitting here now, now about this.
I don’t fit here as well as I remember, but it might be the outfit. I scoop some of the dress onto the seat so it isn’t just hanging on the floor. My toes scrunch into the cushion and I rest my head against the glass, the sun beaming into my room cutting across my lap and lighting a direct path to the door. That feels like a good sign. It’s literally lighting the way.
Guests have begun to arrive and I can see him there talking to his dad. He’s beaming much like this setting sun telling me to get my butt down there. The hour is golden and so is he. In some ways, this already feels like a memory. One that can be hung on the wall next to my parents wedding photo.
This was what I wanted, to get married at home, nothing too elaborate, just people who love us, in a place I have always felt love. The backyard is set up with a collection of round tables, clusters of greenery and baby's breath in the center. Simple. Understated. Part of the garden is overgrown, and it’s always my favorite. I love that this room has a view of it. Even before it became my secret garden, before it became as wild and completely overgrown as it is now, I could look out this window and see this patch of garden so loved by my parents. Now, it has nearly completely overtaken the stone bench that sits nestled amongst it.
I have music playing on a small speaker that is about a decade old and it clashes with the string quartet outside. It kind of makes sense. I look down at people beginning to take their seats. And his glare cuts through the crowd, through the glass, through me. I know people might say we’re too young, maybe we are. But I can see him, and I see my future. I’m smiling as my dad knocks on the door. He opens it slowly and pops his head through the crack.
“You ready sweetheart?”
“Just about… shoes and bouquet”
“Bouquet is getting final touches downstairs, we can pick it up on the way to the altar.”
I slip on my shoes, a pair of silver glitter keds, felt like a fun nod to the Sterling of it all. Plus, I have no interest in trying to wear high heels in grass, and these will allow me to not trip over my own feet when dancing.
My father is tall, standing in the doorway full of pride and memory as I give myself one more glance in the mirror. The a-line dress hangs across my body in a way I didn’t know something could actually fit someone. It’s not adorned anywhere but the hem, where it has lace trim, the something old. Goes perfectly with the small sapphire earrings. Made using a pair from my mom, we had them surrounded in small diamonds to wear today. Taking care of the new, borrowed, and blue.
My hair is barely pulled back and pinned with some baby’s breath. The few freckles across the bridge of my nose are not shy and buried under foundation, my eyes have some sparkle, and my cheeks are pink, but I look like me. Which is exactly what I wanted. I brush my hands to smooth out my dress, and I know the butterflies in my stomach are fluttering to meet their mates, like I am, at the end of the green path.
“Ready.”
“You absolutely are,” he says with a smile.
This house elicits all the senses, triggered by my favorite parts of my childhood. I’m wrapped in all the warmth of my mother as I descend the stairs. I hear my father’s laugh as we reach the kitchen island. As we approach the french doors in the family room, we’re standing there, just the two of us.
The wedding coordinators are waiting, poised to open the doors. I see him there, and he sees me. Like our eyes would never have been able to keep apart. And while the world outside is still watching him, his eyes are here. He taps his nose twice, discreetly, and points right at me. I do the same back.
And with that, I’m handed my bouquet and the doors are opened. I realize the ‘final touches’ are the touches of basil. It’s everywhere. The boutonnieres, the center pieces, it’s in my memories, my future. He did this for me, knowing what it would mean. The sweet smell of basil is subtle in the air, but it’s the distinct memories that flood my senses with each breath. For some, red roses hold the romance, but for me? It will always be a small hardware-store potted basil plant. I always imagine it, just sitting there on the ledge above the sink, right by the kitchen window. I think about how many times it died and he secretly replaced it. That’s a type of love not everyone is lucky to know. But I am . It made me.
I hold on to my father step by step and we’re all in tears by the time we reach the altar. For reasons known and unknown, said and unsaid.
With a kiss on my cheek, he whispers he loves me, and he steps to the side.
It feels different than I thought. My stomach is anxious for more reasons than I can count, but none have to do with the man standing with me.
The way we know each other isn’t fair. No one could ever compete. I’m looking at him as he takes my hands, and I know with my whole heart he’s the one who owns it forever.
In some ways I feel like I am watching this all through someone else's eyes, I’d think that except the way he mouths ‘I love you’ amidst the officiants speech where he wrinkles his nose at me in jest, I couldn’t be anyone but myself. I can hear the background noise of the ceremony, but it’s only him I hear, as he begins his vows.
“I can’t think of a more perfect place to marry you, my best friend, than right here , mere feet away from our first kiss… Actually… I think we should…” his hands are placed on my upper arms, running his fingers across my skin and he steps forward toward me and pushes me slightly backwards, mere feet, just like he said.
“There. That’s better,” he says with our feet now rooted in our past while our hands hold each other’s future. The place in my childhood backyard where we had our kiss.
“I know that no matter how much today should be pure joy, there is something missing. Someone missing.” I glance over at my dad, who is wiping away tears for more than just me. He’s missing her like I am. But missing her is always his way of making sure she is here, even though she hasn’t been for years now.
“I know that you wanted for your mom to see you get married… and I could say that she is here with us, and I do believe that…” He subtly signals to someone behind me. “You may not know this, you might not remember, but she saw you get married. She saw us get married. The first time.”
I’m confused, and look to my dad for confirmation. But his lips are held together with a nod and smile that tells me he knows something I don’t, at least not yet. His hands turn me towards the back of the house, and wraps his arms around me. Everyone in their seats turning with me. And just like that, the speakers crackle and come to life with the sound of her voice on an old recording.
“What are you two doing?” she laughs and then the projection flickers on. There she is. Larger than life, like always. Glowing. And then I come into frame can’t be more than four with one of her white slip dresses drowning my small body as I trip over my feet squealing and laughing. And then he comes running into frame behind me, clutching a small handful of basil he had pulled from the garden.
“We’re getting married!” I scream and jump into her arms.
“Can you believe it, darling!? Our only daughter is already getting married?!” My father’s younger voice from behind the camera. This home video of us as children is one I’ve never seen, I don't even know exactly when it’s from. But it’s in this house.
It plays for a few minutes, the whole ceremony, and when my mom pronounces us ‘husband and wife’ he throws his arms around me and tackles me to the ground and we laugh like children do. And so does she.
The camera shifts, and it’s back on my mom, even with her hair wild, wearing just one of my dads t-shirts and a pair of leggings, she was perfect.
“Can you please introduce yourself, and share a message for the lovely bride and groom?” My dad teases her. She holds up a banana as a fake microphone, and looks right at him.
“Hiii, I’m Arden Sterling, I'm the mother of the bride… and on this glorious day of your wedding, I have a toast just for you…”
Her voice sounds like music from a jewelry box, one I can’t easily open anymore. But it’s lyrical and light as she taps the banana microphone again asking ‘is this thing on.’
“What kind of toast, darling?” My father chides knowing as well as I do the flare she always had for something that caused a little stir. But she ignores him, clearing her throat to continue.
“There are tall ships, there are small ships, there are a lot of ships at sea. But the best ships are friendships, so here’s to Banks and Ollie… I wish you a lifetime of happiness on your wedding day, today, the 18th of September… I love you both!”
My hands fly to my mouth as the video ends, the freeze-frame remains projected on the house as she’s frozen there in time, in a memory I didn’t know I had.
I turn to him, my soon to be husband, my first-husband, my lifetime best friend and he turns back to me.
“Banks, most people don’t get to marry their best friend, and they definitely don't get to marry them twice… on the same day. I love you, then…today…tomorrow and I know I’ll love growing old with you, because I loved growing up with you. And I vow, no matter how many steps we are away from this sacred spot, no matter how many days we are away from our wedding day, my love for you is rooted deeper than anything else to ever exist.”
It’s my turn for my vows, I don't know how to vow anything more to this man than my entire self, which he already has so completely.
“Ollie,” my own tears are flowing, and I see myself reflected in the glistening of his own eyes. “My dad always told me that his life began when he fell in love with my mom.” I take a breath hoping it’s enough to power me through. “But that’s not true for us, because my life has never existed without you. People search for lifetimes to feel the way I do about you, and when they do find that person they have to open their heart and fit the pieces together. But not me. I didn’t have to search, I’ve known you as long as I’ve known myself. Our hearts never needed to fit together, because mine has always had you in it.” The pads of his thumbs are wiping tears from my cheeks as his own meet the holy ground we stand on.
“Most people find their best friends in their soulmates, but not for me, I found my soulmate in my best friend.”
I’ve never been filled with as much emotion as I have right now. I didn’t know this much emotion could exist within a person.
My hands grab his face and pull him to me. His lips and mine smiling against each other slick by tears.
It's the kiss of husband and wife at their second wedding, years later.