Desert Bride

People tend to do a lot of stupid things to try to cope with a broken heart. Some attempt to saturate their misery by drinking too much, some find temporary relief in brief sexual encounters, some simply distract themselves with shopping or vacations or eating. All this to numb the gut wrenching pain that constantly hovers in the background of life, like a low 60 cycle hum.

Me? I eloped with a man I barely knew in the middle of desert thunderstorm.

I had first met Beau at my part-time job as a waitress. It was 6 months post “The Break-Up” and my days up until that point had become a desperate attempt to outrun the crushing pain that was like a ravenous wolf pack constantly nipping at my heals, sniffing out my weakness and frailty. I would spend my nights spending my tip money on cheap well drinks at the local dive bar with work friends, and my days nursing hangovers and faking unbridled enthusiasm for the homemade hummus plate on special. I was trapped in a vicious cycle of simply barely getting by.

In the 6 months prior, I had already moved twice, changed jobs countless times and had just joined a Non Profit Organization that was willing to ship me to Uganda to teach English to African orphans for a year. The opportunity sounded like a perfect out for me- I would get to escape my life, fling myself from my current reality and give myself over to a cause greater than my own devastating heartache. Then Beau entered the picture.

Beau was incredibly handsome. He was tall with broad shoulders, a strong jaw line and disarming blue eyes that saw down deep. We started chatting in between taking lunch orders and refilling ice teas, and I had been caught off guard at how similar how lives had been up until that point. Our parents, our childhoods, our goals and our passions were like mirror images of each other. It was if we were twins separated at birth and had finally been reunited. We both loved art and music and writing and were utterly confused spiritually, questioning the Christian doctrine we had been raised on. We knew we wanted more than what we were told life currently had to offer. It was hard not to feel known and utterly seen by Beau, but even more importantly than that, the pain, that up until that point had been total and all-consuming, had slowly started to dull and fade. The relief was utterly intoxicating.

Beau and I began to spend all of our time together, but there was an unnatural sense of heightened urgency to these encounters which was fueled by the fact that I was leaving in one month's time for my year long teaching residency in Uganda. My plane was ticket booked and paid for, my passport had been renewed and updated and my classroom was being built in preparation of my arrival- there was absolutely no backing out of the commitment I had made, but suddenly I was no longer so eager to go. Beau had changed everything in a matter of a few days and now the plans I had made no longer seemed to fit. My upcoming trip began to feel more like a countdown to an impending prison sentence, especially considering that I would be at a location with no consistent cell or internet service.

We began an exhaustive effort to cram a year's worth of discussions, laughter and love making into a few short weeks. We stayed up all hours of the night, drinking wine and talking, playing music and cooking food. The days and nights were slipping by faster and faster, as if time was speeding up the closer it got to my departure date. The thought of a year away from Beau with little to no contact brought the ravenous wolves out again, and I couldn't help but feel they were circling closer and closer.

It was two weeks before I was set to leave when Beau and I were sprawled out on his unmade bed, watching the vivid colors of the evening sunset play across the bare bedroom walls. I had just gotten off an afternoon shift at the restaurant and we were curled up together in a tight knot, unable to distinguish were one of us began and the other ended. A bottle of red wine and two glasses sat on the nightstand.

"Let's get married," Beau suddenly whispered in my hair, his breath hot on my neck. I froze, unsure I had heard him correctly. The silence sat heavy between us.

"Did you just ask me to marry you?" I finally asked, sitting up to look him in the eye. I grinned, expecting it to be some stupid joke at my expense, but Beau's gaze was intense and focused.

"I'm serious," Beau responded, his jaw clenching like it does when he’s nervous, "I'm dead serious. I can't have you leave without knowing you're coming back to me."

"Of course I'm coming back," I replied gently, combing a shaggy lock of hair out of his eyes, "We don't have to get married to know that."

"I know we don't HAVE to,"Beau answered," but I want to."

I hesitated, scrutinizing Beau's expression for any hint that he was teasing or playing around, but Beau just leaned in closer, his eyes tracking mine.

"Listen,"he started, "it doesn't have to be a big wedding...we can just elope! No one even has to know. It will be just for us. I mean, I KNOW I want to marry you, the only question left for me is "when", and I can't stomach the thought of you leaving without first becoming my wife. Then when you get back next year, we can have a real wedding, anything you want, but this would just be for us. It's the only way I will survive the next year."

My heart fluttered in my chest. It was an incredibly ridiculous and yet utterly romantic proposal he presented, like something out of a novel or a movie, but there was still so much to consider in real life.

"I mean, it sounds wonderful, but maybe we should think about this more,” I responded, weaving my fingers through his,”After all, we just met a few weeks ago. Maybe I'll end up driving you crazy in another week or two.”

"You don't feel like you know me?" he asked, eyes narrowing. The sudden hardness in his face startled me.

"That's not what I'm saying!" I responded quickly while giving his hand an assuring squeeze, "Of course I know you! It's just that getting married is a big deal, and we are both young and I want to make sure we are doing the right thing."

Beau looked at me squarely, his eyes locked intently on mine,"Who cares about right or wrong? Who’s to say what right or wrong even is? All I know is that I'm sure it's what I want. I guess the only question is what you want?"

The question hung heavily in the air between us. For a moment, it was if all the air in the room had been sucked out. Beau waited intently, his fingers interlaced tightly in mine. My mind darted back and forth frantically like a trapped animal. I knew logically all the reasons why it was a potentially terrible idea, but the wolves still circling me constantly, the pain was still lurking on the perimeter, threatening to re-awaken and consume me whole. I simply couldn't afford to say no. I would go to any lengths to keep the wolves at bay.

"OK, yeah," I smiled shyly, letting myself warm to the idea, "Let's do it."

"Yeah?" Beau's smile was brilliant.

"Yeah." I replied.

We had planned to get married that upcoming weekend. We couldn’t tell anyone, as our parent's and family members certainly wouldn't approve, but I was able to convince my reluctant sister, Anne, to be our witness for the wedding and stand in as my maid of honor. I could tell she was highly skeptical of all of it, but as my sister, she couldn’t let me do it alone.

Beau was in charge of scouting a beautiful and private setting in the desert for our vows and his good friend, who was also an ordained minister, had agreed to officiate the wedding and serve as the second witness. It was scarily easy to put into motion.

When Saturday arrived, my sister and I crammed ourselves into Beau's small bathroom and she helped me dress. It didn't take long, as I was only wearing a simple white sundress and sandals, but I felt panicked and edgy as we traded spots in front of the mirror and took turns with the flat iron.

Anne watched me intently as I touched up my makeup for the third time, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked, her eyes locking to mine.

"Are you almost ready?" Beau knocked loudly on the door, "We're losing light! We gotta get going!"

"OK!" I called back, pointedly ignoring Anne's imploring looks. Anne let out an exasperated sigh and followed me out the bathroom door.

Anne and I drove in her car, while Beau and his friend Matt lead the way in his truck. I had no idea where we were going, but it seemed like we were in the car for hours. Highways eventually turned into two-lane roads and then to dirt gravel paths. The desert completely surrounded us on all sides, not one sign of civilization anywhere. Anne's small sedan rocked and shimmied violently as we followed behind in great cloud of dust while cautiously maneuvering around various potholes and ditches.

Behind us in the rear view mirror, I could see large clouds the color of slate filling the horizon and quickly edging out the afternoon sun. Every once in awhile, a thin thread of lightning would split through the clouds.

"I think it's going to storm," I said to Anne anxiously.

Anne wordlessly pulled out a silver flask from her side door compartment and took a deep pull, then handed it to me. I eagerly accepted the flask and took a long drink of lukewarm whiskey, then anxiously watched as the storm chased us farther into the heart of the desert.

In a matter of minutes, the clouds were right on top of us and it was as dark as midnight outside. Rain began to fall in thick rivulets down the windows and drummed loudly on the rooftop.

Suddenly, Beau slammed on his brakes, the twin red lights cutting through the thick darkness, and his truck came to a jolted halt in the middle of the muddy road. Anne cursed and quickly slammed on her own brakes so as not to rear end Beau’s truck. She grabbed the flask back from me and took another swig.

We both watched in confusion as Beau and Matt got out of the truck and made their way towards Anne's car, the rain and wind whipping around them. Beau gestured for Anne to the roll the window down. Anne cursed again and rolled the window down a couple of inches. Rain instantly began to pelt into the car.

"We've got to do it here!" Beau yelled over the wind and rain.

I felt my face go slack. "What are you talking about, Beau?" I asked, leaning over the middle console.

Beau gestured widely around him. "The storm's building up too fast and we aren't going to make it the place I had scouted out, so we just got to do it here!"

Anne and I exchanged looks of horror and then peered out the rain soaked windows into the pitch blackness beyond. Lightning forked and splintered in the near distance. I shook my head mutely.

"Babe, listen to me!" Beau pleaded, "We're out of time! You leave next week and we both have to work until then. It's now or we don’t do it all!"

Anne shot me an uncertain glance as I chewed anxiously on my lower lip. "I dunno Beau, it looks really bad out there..."

"Just think!" Beau laughed," You will never forget your wedding! And really, none of this matters as long as at the end of it, you're going to be my wife!"

"Fine," I sighed in resignation as Anne gave me a look of exasperation. We carefully opened our car doors and were instantly pummeled by rain and wind. Beau came around to my side of the car and took my hand, trying to lead me away from the biggest puddles which were quickly becoming pools.

"Where are we doing this?" I yelled to him to make myself heard above the rain and wind.

"Uh, just off the side of the road here," he called back, and pointed to a small clearing about 9 feet by 9 feet, surrounded by thick desert brush and cacti. The four of us huddled in the tiny clearing as lightning began to split the sky directly overhead. Anne and I both screamed as the answering thunder shook the ground violently beneath us.

Beau laughed heartily as if he was having the best time ever. "It's just a little lightning!" He cried.

Anne just glared back at him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she shivered in her rain soaked sundress. Anne leaned in close to me and yelled in my ear, "I hate to tell you this on your wedding day, but your dress is completely see through right now."

I looked down in horror and saw that my white sundress had indeed become completely see-through with the rain. Matt at least had the common decency to avert his eyes. We stood in awkward silence, Anne and I shivering miserably in our wet clothes. The darkness around us was thick and absolute.

"It's so dark, Beau," I said, grabbing his arm. My wet fingers slid off his equally wet skin.

"Here, I brought a lamp!" Beau exclaimed, almost triumphantly. He placed a camping lantern in front of us on the ground and turned it on. In a matter of seconds, every insect within a 10 mile radius had flocked to that lamp and were circling it like a living, breathing tornado.

Anne and I screamed again, "Turn it off! Turn it off!"

Beau swatted at some stray bugs the size of small bags hovering around his face and waded in towards the lantern, eventually finding the switch and turning it off. Once again we were left in the complete darkness.

Somewhere nearby, a wild pack of coyotes began yipping wildly as they descended on a fresh kill.

There are many times in life, during moments of great uncertainty, when one may ask God (or the universe) for a clear sign of direction. In my experience, these are rarely given and we are left to just bumble our way through and hope for the best. But in this instance, God, or the universe, or perhaps even my late father, had sent me a clear, in my face, definitive sign that this should not be happening.

But I ignored it. Maybe I ignored it because it had all gone so far it felt impossible to back out of, like jumping off of a speeding train. But I know deep down it was because I was more afraid of the alternative, of facing the wolves, than I was of marrying the wrong man.

So I went through with it. Matt read some official sounding words off his phone and we said our vows as the rain poured down around us and lightning streaked overhead and a pack of coyotes noisily feasted nearby. When we were finally pronounced husband and wife, I was disappointed to not feel at all different or changed, but still my same self. The wolves still paced hungrily just beyond the shadows.

It probably won’t surprise you to learn our marriage did not last long; six and half weeks to be exact. As I had known before, we didn’t really know each other and as we started to unpack our baggage, it was more than we had bargained for.

I also didn’t go to Uganda. Oddly, I was struck with meningitis a day before my flight and was hospitalized for two weeks. Another sign.

I still sense the wolves at times. They are never far, but I’ve made my peace with them. I’ve come to understand they are simply a condition of being alive. As long as they are there, I’ve still got some life left in me yet.