let me say this, then leave

To be completely honest, I don’t know if I’m going to marry you today.

And I know it’s leaving it a bit to the last second, what with me in a white dress and the pastor rehearsing his speech at the chancel right in front of me. But if I don’t say it now, I never will.

It’s only really hitting me now in this near-empty church, palms ground into the wooden pew I’m sitting on, toes cramped from my heels - in three hours, we’re going to married.

Some of the guests are already here, milling outside in the church’s front lawn - eager witnesses to the unity of Adam Yorke and Bernadette Sargent. I know it’s what I wanted, but right now all I can think about is all the things I’m going to lose, and all the people who said twenty-one is too young to settle down. It’s not even that I don’t want to be with you; I do. But something about marriage makes it hard to breathe.

Running all along the walls of the church are arched stained glass windows, each housing a benevolent saint with yellow sunlight beaming through their jewel toned robes and sunset-coloured halos. I can’t name any of them, but I can almost hear them screaming, ‘run!’. It’s in the eyes, I think.

Pastor Jim seems like he can sense my discomfort because he pauses in his preparation and looks up from his Bible. ‘How are you feeling, Bernadette?’ he asks, his voice kind and slow.

My palms are sweating and I move to wipe them on my wedding dress before I hear Tash’s voice in my head telling me don’t do it, Sarge. I fold them loosely in my lap instead. My own voice is fast and high-pitched when I reply, ‘I’m good.’

Maybe it’s his heavenly connection or just the fact that I’m a shit liar, but Pastor Jim doesn’t look like he believes me. He steps down from the chancel and takes a seat on the steps in front of me. He has very blue eyes, the kind you can’t look away from. ‘Marriage is a big step for any couple,’ he says. ‘’It’s understandable to be overwhelmed.’

The thing is, though, I didn’t feel overwhelmed. Not yesterday afternoon when we hugged each other goodbye and promised with a wink we’d see each other soon. Not even this morning when Mum and Jade woke me up way too early, jumping into the bed with orange juice and French toast in hand.

Maybe it’s when I saw myself in the mirror, all in white. Maybe it’s when I moved my engagement ring to my right hand to make room for my wedding band. Or maybe it’s just cold feet that makes my heart feel like it’s about to burst out of my skin and the only thing that’ll make it better is to run very far away. And I’m not usually the type to spill my soul to strangers. But something in him demands honesty. Damn pastors.

My hands clasp tighter. I look him right in the eye. Now that I’m looking closer, I can confirm his eyes are indeed blue, unadulteratedly so, like a photoshopped pool in an ad for swimming classes. ‘Are you married, Pastor Jim?’

His entire face softens minutely, smile lines deepening. They splay out like sunbeams from the corners of his eyes. ‘I am.’

‘How did you know?’ No, that’s not right. ‘How is love meant to feel?’

He considers for a moment. I realise suddenly how he looks very much like one of the saints on the wall, bushy eyebrows tilted up in the middle, giving him a permanent look of concern. When Pastor Jim finally speaks, it’s gentle. ‘There’s no one way to love somebody. It can be a thousand different things to one person, or the same thing to a thousand people. But one thing I have learnt is, generally, real love tends to feel quite selfless. How does it feel for you?’

I let out a shaky breath. ‘Like I’m holding on. Really tightly.’

Pastor Jim looks like he wants to say something else, but the sound of the heavy church doors creaking open makes us both look over.

It’s my mother, closely followed by Jade - each of them in rosy satin gowns, raven hair in loose waves, pushing five feet even in heels. If not for the forty years between them, they could be twins.

I untangle my hands from each other just as Mum comes to collapse next to me on the church pew. ‘There you are, Sarge,’ she says cheerily, reaching over to tuck my black bangs behind my ear. No use; my curls have been straightened for today and the slip of it makes my bangs come loose almost immediately after. ‘I thought you’d taken off.’

‘Still here,’ I reply. For now.

‘Well, if you did want to run,’ Mum says conspiriatorally, ‘I’ll be your getaway driver. I wish my mum was at my first wedding. I had to catch a bus out of there, which is much less cinematic.’

I’m not looking at Pastor Jim so I don’t see his reaction, but I imagine it’s one of shock. And I get it. It’s hard to reconcile the fiercely loyal Lucy Sargent I know as my mother with the girl she used to be; Lucille Cartwright who left her husband at the altar, her inheritance along with him. It would be so easy to follow in her footsteps. Open the church doors and run.

But in this moment, I realise I do want to marry you. Because you and I are nothing like my mum and her first fiancee. She and John never understood each other like we do. Pastor Jim said love is selfless. I think we have that.

I look over at him and offer a small, grateful smile. He returns one of his own, feather soft.

Turning back to my mum I say, ‘I don’t want to. But thanks for the offer.’

‘Thank god,’ Jade pipes up. ‘We spent too much on this wedding for you to cancel.’ Mum sighs dramatically, but doesn’t berate her. It’s the type of comment only Jade can get away with. Damn those big hazel eyes.

I roll my own significantly less big but still hazel eyes. ‘What are you guys doing here, anyway? Unless I’ve gotten something totally wrong, the wedding isn’t until five.’

‘No, you’re right,’ Mum says. ‘There’s just a slight problem.’

My palms start sweating again. ‘Is it actually slight, or are you just trying to make me feel better?’

She and Jade exchange quick, knowing glances, and I smother the resulting flare of irritation in me.

Finally Mum says, ‘The thing is. We’re not quite sure where Adam is.’

Pastor Jim stands. ‘I’ll give you some peace,’ he says quietly, patting my arm. ‘Let me know if you need me.’

I barely register it, though, because I’m still trying to wrap my head around what Mum’s just told me. ‘Is he okay?’

Jade chews her lip then says, ‘We’ve tried calling him, but he’s not picking up. Xavier’s going to Adam’s room at the Mariot now to check. Don’t worry, Sarge, I’m sure it’s fine.’

My heart’s racing now, a thousand miles a minute at the thought of you being hurt or worse. And okay, call it naivety, or optimism, or just blind faith, but the truth never crossed my mind. ‘I need to try to call him. I need to make sure he’s okay.’

‘Tash blocked him on your phone,’ Jade reminds me.

I’d completely forgotten. Tash, the fucker, said it would build suspense before the big day. It has, obviously, but this is more suspense than I’d bargained for.

‘Get Tash to unblock him, then. Where is she?’ The last I’d seen of my third and final bridesmaid, she was flirting with one of your groomsmen on the lawn.

‘I’ve sent her plenty of texts, and your dad’s looking for her,’ Mum says. ‘The main thing is, just don’t panic. I’m sure if there was something wrong, word would’ve gotten around to us somehow.’

I have to convince myself she’s right, because I can’t bear to think of the alternative. Suddenly the person I was five minutes ago, not sure I was going to marry you, seems like a stranger to me. How could I have ever thought that holding on to you, and being held by you, would be a mistake?

Tash comes bursting throug the doors, phone pressed to her ear and dress hiked up to her knees. Her blonde eyebrows are furrowed and she’s speaking insistently and my heart drops.

I swallow thickly and try to speak, but nothing comes out.

When Tash hangs up, though, she doesn’t look upset, or relieved. In fact, she looks downright furious.

I find my words and say, ‘Who were you talking to?’

‘It was Xavier,’ Tash says. She kneels in front of me and takes my hands in hers, fixing me with a steely blue glare. ‘He’s not coming, Sarge.’

I hear her words, but I don’t understand them. ‘Xavier?’

‘Adam. He doesn’t want to marry you. I’m sorry.’

Maybe she says things afterwards. Words of comfort or questioning or rage. I don’t hear any of it. I feel absolutely nothing. Almost like I’m outside of my body, floating on a very high cloud. The saints look at me from their perches. Their eyes don’t look so ominous now. Actually, they look almost pitying. Like they’re saying, Well, we did try to warn you. I get a strange sensation in my head, like I’m floating out of my body and might just join all those stained glass portraits up on the walls.

It only lasts a moment, though, because then I’m back in my very earthly body, very sympathetic saints looking down on me, with a very absent fiance.

It starts in my gut first, then works its way up. Then I’m laughing, laughing, laughing, and I don’t stop for a very long time.