The sacrament is taking place and as the Priest holds up the wine goblet she daydreams. Of all places and times this is where she finds she thinks best. Not without guilt, however because this is a place where she knows she should really be paying attention. Its just that she felt exposed in church. Sometimes comfortably so, and she would ponder, relive, and dream up things in the middle of Mass. After all, no one could interrupt her there, and she was easily distracted. Yet, there were other times she felt scared to go, as if God would reveal to her, her latest sins. This was a place where she stripped down and self-examined and criticized. Today she thought of how her disease was out of control, loneliness clutched her, but hope filled her heart.
Today, just as on many other Sundays, he glances across the room at her. “Amen.” She looks back, shamelessly, until her cheeks flush and a giggle squirms up out of her. Once he notices her reaction his confidence increases and the quiet boy with the dark hair and large, honest brown eyes looks over at her again. There is an expression on his face that to her says “I’m curious about you”- and nothing more. She does know as much: she is safe as long as he remains there. In her mid-teens that fact seemed extremely inexplicable. The girl looks away again, giving her heart rate a chance to recover and then she focuses her gaze at the cross in front of her.
Three years pass.
In the same crowded room, the girl is standing next to her fiancé. She feels confused, sorrowful, and nervous. She doesn’t even know why. Then, the same boy from before, from always, walks into the room. As he walks by she feels like someone has ripped her heart from her chest. She feels lightheaded and sways slightly. Her breathing is labored and she looks down at the floor which seems to be spinning. Why can’t she figure out what these symptoms mean? What do these feelings mean? They’re not clear and she isn’t able to make sense of anything. The boy with the brown eyes glances at her and she glances back. An overwhelming feeling takes over and a realization hits her. One that would have been helpful to have had years ago. She literally has to stop herself from running to him. The girl would later describe this seemingly insignificant moment as one of the happiest in her entire life. She finally knew.
A few more years pass.
The Priest holds up the wine goblet and the girl nods. She is wrapped in layers of white satin and tulle, red Italian beads hanging from her neck. She daydreams again about the quiet but noble boy she has known for so long. She thinks it so very odd that the only longstanding logic she could apply to her decision to marry him was the simple yet overwhelming feeling that ever since they were kids, whenever she stood next to him, she felt at home.
Three years pass.
Happy Anniversary, Alex.