That Wedding

The bracelet that's the story of our lives.

The story that's over.

At the end of this story, it just says, THE END.

There is no, And they lived happily ever after.

The bracelet suddenly feels very heavy on my wrist. Like it's trying to strangle me.

I have to get it off.

I slide open the clasp, take it off, hook it to the swing, and then go back to my car.

I'm not sure if I knew where I was going when I left the school, but I find myself at the entrance to the cemetery.

I haven't been here since the funeral, but I know exactly where to go. The spot my parents are buried is burned forever in my mind.

I get out of the car, trudge through the snow, and stand in front of it.

I read the headstone that Phillip and I picked out, but I never came to see.

Beloved husband and father, Paul Michael Reynolds.

Beloved wife and mother, Veronica James Reynolds.

I drop down into the snow and cry. I cry all the tears I've been pushing back inside me since they died.

After crying and crying, I feel kinda refreshed in a weird way.

I start to think with a clearer head. I think Mr. D might have been right. I haven't dealt with it. I thought I had to be strong for them to be proud of me. I thought if I didn't let it show, it meant that I was coping. That I'd gotten over it.

I don't think my parents would be very proud of me right now.

They'd probably be embarrassed.

I've made a mockery of everything they taught me. I stood up at their funeral and told everyone about how they lived. About how they appreciated daily life. About how they cherished every day they had.

I haven't done that.

I haven't been smelling the roses. I've been using the roses as an excuse to do whatever I want. Sure, I've had fun, but I haven't really appreciated the amazing things right in front of me. I didn't stop to smell the roses. I've been like a little girl that rode by some roses on her bike. I'd take a whiff, and then I'd swat the petals off with my hand. I wasn't appreciating their beauty.

I was destroying them.

I thought since my parents weren't here that it was okay for me not to give a shit. That it was okay to pretend like I could do whatever I wanted because the world owed me something.

It doesn't.

I think it's up to me.

I reach out and trace my finger across their engraved names. Above their names is a pair of angel wings. Phillip found the design when we picked out the headstone. I trace over the wings too.

My hand instinctively goes down to touch my hip.

I hate needles, but I went all by myself a few years ago and got a tattoo. Even though I'd never seen the headstone, I still had the rough drawing they made when I ordered it. I took the drawing and had the tattoo artist replicate the wings on my hip.

I didn't tell anyone I did it because I really wasn't sure why I did it. Eventually, Phillip and Da

I think of Phillip.

Holding my hand in the hospital.

Holding my hand at the funeral.

Letting me sleep on his shoulder.

Taking me to the swings.

Always, always there for me.

I reach down to touch the cross charm on my wrist.

I panic.

My bracelet. It's gone!

Of course it's gone, you idiot. You left it on the swings.

I HAVE to go get it.

"I have to go!" I say to the grave.

The short drive to the elementary school feels like it takes hours. What was I thinking? Why did I leave it there? Some little kid's going to take it in the morning and not appreciate all it means.

All it means.

All it means.

The phrase runs over and over through my head. I squeal my tires turning into the parking lot. I ca

I can't let him go.

I don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care if we're stupid. I don't care that we failed a stupid class. I don't care if it ends in divorce after six months.

I don't care.

Pastor was right that first day. I've been ru

Is that what my dad was trying to tell me in my dream? That Phillip and I never listened to anyone?

We didn't listen when they told us girls and boys shouldn't be friends. We didn't listen when people gave us shit about our friendship. We didn't listen when the people we were dating threatened to leave us if we didn't stop spending so much time together.

Our relationship has survived over twenty years because we didn't listen to anyone.

Not even my dad.

I picture Phillip in the tree. How his arm stayed stretched out, his hand empty, long after my dad pulled me away.

Phillip has always fought harder for us than I have. It's no wonder he's tried to move so fast. He's afraid I'm going to run. I don't ever want Phillip to doubt my love. This time, and from now on, I'm go

But first, I have to get my bracelet.

I tear out of the car and race to the swings.

My bracelet is gone.

I look around, but I don't see anyone. What kind of kids would be out swinging after dark?

Shit.

Bad kids.

Katie and I used to sneak out of her house at night and smoke on these very swings.

Maybe it fell off.

I drop to my knees and frantically run my fingers across the dark snowy dirt. I don't feel it. I need some light. I need my phone. What did I do with my phone? I think I turned it off and threw it in the backseat.

I turn around and run straight into Phillip's broad chest.

"You looking for this?" he says, holding up the bracelet.

Without even thinking, I hug him tightly with relief. I take in a big breath and am engulfed by Phillip's scent. The scent that smells like home.

"Phillip, oh my God, you have it! I thought I lost it when I was here earlier!"

"Don't act like you lost it. It didn't fall off you. I found it hooked to the swing's chain." He gives me that look. The look you get when you get caught in a lie. "Where have you been? Why did you leave the bracelet here?"

"Because I thought we were over, Phillip. I couldn't stand to look at it because it represented failure. My failure."

"But you came back for it. Why?"

I get tears in my eyes. "Because it's the story of our life."

Phillip looks around. "And this is where it all began."

I smile. "I know."

"It it go

"Phillip, we really need to talk."

"Well, that doesn't sound very promising." He sighs big and sits on a swing.

"Why did you ask me to marry you on our first date?"

He grimaces. "However I say this, it's go

"Just tell me."

"We were finally together, something I wanted for a very long time. I felt like I had to move fast. Get engaged, get married, before you could change your mind. I know I've been pushing you. You kept trying to tell me how you were feeling. I avoided it. If you wa

"And I'd be stuck with you?"

"Yeah, maybe." He looks at me with pleading eyes. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"