by Zeia Jameson
It’s our anniversary. Livy hasn’t mentioned it and I’m not sure if she even knows that it’s been a year. This evening I am going to take her to the park, by the bridge, which is her favorite spot in the city. I’m getting takeout from the restaurant where we had our first date—which happened a week after we first met so technically that is our anniversary but that’s all just semantics. I have wine. The same wine from our first date. I have cozy blankets, music and battery powered LED candles. I am hoping the sky will produce enough ambiance to set the mood I’m trying to portray.
Because I’m going to propose.
~~~
“Livy, my mother has a saying about listening to your gut to make important life decisions. I want you to know I’ve thought about this a lot and I’m listening to my gut. I know you want to say no but just hear me out before you say anything.
To you, marriage is just a piece of paper and vows people don’t take seriously. To me, marriage is about wanting to proudly call you my wife and to be able to proudly call myself your husband. To me, a husband and wife are two people who have found one another and want to make the commitment to be there for each other no matter what.
I know in my heart and with every fiber of my being that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to wake up to your beautiful face every morning. I only want to kiss your lips and look into your eyes. My heart has never felt anything the way it feels when I’m with you. We live together, we get along just fine. We tolerate and accept each other’s differences and idiosyncrasies. I am totally, one-hundred-and-thirty percent comfortable around you. I think about you all day. The way you laugh. The way you smell. The way you are completely different from any woman I’ve ever met and the way I love every single thing about what makes you unique. I love you, Livy. I can’t be without you. You are my best friend. If you would grant me the opportunity of letting me call you my wife, I swear to you that I will honor every word I say to you, up at that altar, until the day I take my last breath. You have to believe me. I want to have what my mom and dad had. I want to have what my aunts and their husbands have. I want you. Forever.
Livy, will you marry me?”
***
16
Livy
The proposal
“I have to tell you something,” Sara said to me over the phone.
“What is it? You are worrying me. It’s the middle of the day. On a Friday. Shouldn’t you be researching something or writing about some medical breakthrough right now?”
“Yes!” Sara exclaims. “I should be in the lab right now but I have to tell you something. It’s about Jeremy. I’m a horrible person for telling you but I am afraid that you are going to freak out on Jeremy and ruin everything.”
I can feel my face flush with anxiety as my heart begins to pick up pace. “Sara what are you talking about? What is wrong with Jeremy?”
He’s hurt.
He’s dead.
He’s cheating.
He’s a spy.
All things that rush through my brain. But I focus on the part that Sara said I would ruin something and I am instantly confused. There is silence on the phone. “Sara? Just spit it out. You called me in a panic and now you are not speaking. What is it?”
I pause.
“Sara? Dammit, Sara if you don’t say something I am going to hang up on you and...”
“He’s going to propose!” she blurts out.
My mind takes a minute to translate those four words.
He’s going to propose.
I have full understanding of the definition of each of those words, but as Sara said them, all lumped together in one sentence, I am finding difficulty comprehending them.
“Livy! Now you say something.”
“I...” is all that comes out. And then there’s silence. Finally, Sara speaks. “Look, I know it’s supposed to be a surprise and I tried to explain to Jeremy that it wasn’t a good idea to surprise you with something like this but he wouldn’t listen. He said he had it handled. But I know you, Livy. I knew if he got down on one knee without you having any notion of what was about to happen, you would run. And I’m calling to tell you not to run. Don’t freak out. Listen to him, Livy. Listen to what he has to say. And remember that this is Jeremy we are talking about. Sweet, funny, rock hard abs, Jeremy. Loyal Jeremy. Trustworthy Jeremy. If you don’t want to marry him, fine. But don’t run away from him. He’s good for you, Livy. I know you know that.”
Rosalie did tell me that when he knew it was right, he would ask, even though I told him I never would.
“Livy, I wish I could be there in person to read your face right now. What are you thinking?”
“When is he doing this, Sara?”
“Livy?”
“When!?”
“Tonight.”
“Thank you. I have to go.”
“Livy, wait!” I hang up before she can say anything else.
My initial instinct is to go find Jeremy and ask him what the fuck? But I lean back in my chair and stare at the wall for at least two hours. My phone rings three times, before I put it on silent, all calls from Sara. I’ve freaked her out. Rightfully so, but fair retaliation for her freaking me out.
Jeremy is going to propose. Tonight. What am I going to do? What am I going to say? The fact that I even have to consider that I may not immediately say no worries and relieves me simultaneously. It worries me because I’m considering accepting his proposal, which means I’m vacillating on my firm opinion of never getting married. But it relieves me because it means that I may see things in a different perspective. Maybe being married to Jeremy wouldn’t be so bad. And, if I said no to his proposal, then what? He wants to get married and if I don’t then what? Will we break up? Will he find someone else who does want to get married and live happily ever after with her? I don’t want to lose Jeremy. He makes me happy. I love him. To be without him would devastate me.
~~~
From the second he knelt in front of me, my head began to spin. I heard every word he said. I understood. He wants to spend the rest of his life with me.
His life.
My life.
Our lives.
What part of I don’t want to get married didn’t he grasp?
I’m a terrible girlfriend. I didn’t even register that we’d been together for a year. I can’t be a fiancé, let alone a wife.
Negativity infiltrates my brain.
Can’t do it.
Not possible.
No sir.
However, as he is kneeling there, professing his love, telling me that he swears to love me forever, under all circumstances, I look into his eyes.
Jeremy has never lied to me.
He is open and honest. Not as blunt and brash as me, but honest all the same.
He wants to love me forever through whatever thick and thin we may face.
He says he doesn’t want to be without me.
I don’t want to be without him.
We already live together. We’ve had minor ups and downs. If he wants to be legally bound to me, until his last breath, why shouldn’t I want to make him happy?
Why didn’t I want to ever get married again?
Oh yeah, I didn’t want to be stuck with someone who turned out to be a douche bag later down the road and decide he didn’t want me anymore because I’m such a pain in the ass.
But Jeremy won’t do that. I know it.
He is telling me this. His voice is begging me to believe him.
And I do. I do believe him. Because I know Jeremy. Really, truly know him. His words are genuine.
I want to spend the rest of my life with him.
“Livy, will you marry me?” He’s holding his breath, terrified that I’ll protest and say no.
And before I know that it’s happening, my head begins to nod and I’m crying.
Big fat tears.
Jeremy’s eyes grow big in shock. “Livy?”
My head still nodding, I open my mouth. “Yes,
” I squeak out. “Yes, Jeremy, I will marry you.”
***
17
Livy
Three months later
The wedding
I had absolutely no reason to waste money on anything fancy. Jeremy wanted to do everything traditional. Get married in a church was his top request. Specifically, the church his parents were married in.
I agreed and asked his mother if she would make those arrangements. She was thrilled.
She, along with Jenna and Maggie, took care of nearly all the details. And they’ve been frantic. Planning a wedding in three months, after all, is tough business, so I’ve been told. But I stressed to them that I wanted everything as simple as possible. And as inexpensive as possible. I absolutely refused to spend money on things like flowers or tiny little candies with our names on them.
No hearts on everything.
No mushy, romantic music.
No rice to be thrown at me.
All of that was dumb and a pure waste of money. And I made sure the ladies understood.
Jeremy wanted to get married in a church and he wanted all of his family there and I was happy to do it for him. Since the day he proposed his demeanor has become more jovial than I’ve ever seen it before.
He says it because I’ve made him the happiest man alive by agreeing to marry him.
When his mother told us that the only available date for the church was only three months away, she thought we’d be concerned. However, Jeremy and I both were pretty happy about the news. Him more than me, maybe. He said the sooner the better. I agreed but not really for the same reasons. If it had been up to me, we would have just gone to the courthouse and made things legally official. I’m not too eager to walk down an isle while all of his family—and Joe and Sara, of course—stare at me.
Jeremy’s mother insisted we go dress shopping right away. “Three months is not much time at all to not only find a dress but have it altered”, she kept reminding me.
I had to put the brakes on the crazy dress talk.
“I am happy to let you go dress shopping with me but I’m going vintage. As in used. I’m not spending the next six weekends twirling around in some fancy dress boutique pretending I care about anything like that. Sara told me about a few places that sell vintage gowns. She’s going to be in town in two weeks and she wanted to be a part of the dress shopping as well. Is that ok?”
“Of course, my love!” Jeremy’s mother says as she clasps her hands together and smiles. “We will all go together!”
And that we did. Sara came home. She got to meet Jeremy’s trio and they all instantly clicked. She showed us three stores and at the third one, after trying on a myriad of beaded and laced gowns, I found a dress that I thought Jeremy would love.
This was all for him, after all. I’d get married in a tank top and yoga pants. This dress was for Jeremy.
It was short but not tacky short. It came to my knees, short enough to show off my legs. The color was off-white and there was a mixture of lace and beads covering the majority of the fabric. It was sleeveless with thick shoulder straps. The front had a modest scooped neckline, I assume to make up for the nearly nonexistent back. It plunged almost to my waist. The skirt of the dress had multiple layers of fabric but it wasn’t poufy. Flowy I think was the word Sara used. It was a beautiful dress and I knew Jeremy would love it.
“It’s perfect,” I said while wearing it and checking myself out in the mirror. All the ladies of my entourage agreed.
~~~
Today is the day. From all of the accounts I’ve read about or seen on TV, brides are supposed to be bundles of nerves. But I’m not really. I’m just sitting. Waiting. Looking in the mirror at myself in the vanity. Sara and the trio insisted on doing my nails, hair and makeup. I don’t even look like myself. I look like an amazingly beautiful android of myself. They did a hell of a job. It’s the first time this face has seen foundation and blush. Quite a transformation.
Now I’m sitting here alone waiting on everything to start. I’m not allowed to move until I’m summoned. Sara has been in twice, stopping herself from crying both times.
“I cannot believe you are getting married, Livy. I am so happy for you. Jeremy is...” She pauses and looks up at the ceiling for a second and then looks back at me. “He was put on this earth just for you, Livy.”
I smile. It’s a good theory, but highly unlikely. “He is perfect,” I say, “And I hope I can be perfect for him too.”
“Livy, you’ve never shown him anything but exactly who you are and he loves you. Every bit of you.”
“I know. I know,” I concur.
In thinking back on our last conversation before she left and promised not to return, Sara is absolutely right. Jeremy loves me for me. And I love him for just that reason. I never thought I’d find something like this but for some reason or another, it fell right into my lap. I didn’t even have to try.
And maybe that’s what it’s all about. Just letting it happen.
There is a rap at my door and then the door creaks open a little.
“Livy, girl?”
It’s Joe. “Come in, Joe.”
“Oh, Livy, you look absolutely stunning.” I stand up and he hugs me. He’s wearing a freaking suit. Neck tie and all. “Thank you, Joe. You clean up pretty nice yourself.”
Joe looks down at himself and runs his hands down his jacket. “Yeah, well I got all gussied up cuz I figured I’d be walking ya down the aisle.”
“What? Joe...”
He puts up his hand, palm facing me. “Now before you get all in a twist, it was Jeremy’s idea. We were gonna surprise ya. He didn’t want you walking down that aisle all by yourself. He said that wasn’t fair.”
I open my mouth to respond but before I can, Joe continues. “So that was the plan. But then it changed a bit. Well, I mean. It’s up to you. You’ll see.” Joe clears his throat.
“Joe. I don’t understand.”
“Livy. There’s someone here. Jeremy invited someone today. Some…of your family...”
What? I don’t have any family.
My immediate thought goes to Nancy. There is no way in fucking hell that Jeremy would invite her. No fucking way.
“Joe! What are you talking about? I don’t have any family?”
Joe shifts his weight to his other leg. “Apparently, you do. Just...wait here.”
He walks out of the door and leaves it slightly open. My heart is racing. I swear to God if Nancy is on the other side of that door, I am out of here. No wedding. No Jeremy. If he thought inviting her here was somehow acceptable in the least then he doesn’t know me at all and this marriage is done before it begins.
I see a hand grasp the open door. It’s an old hand. Wrinkled, with age spots. And it’s not a feminine hand. It’s very much male.
“Livy?”
What do I say? Who is this? “Yes?”
The door opens and a man of about sixty stands there in the doorway. His hair is white and he’s wearing a black tuxedo.
Is this the minister Rosalie hired? He looks awfully familiar. Is he the one who was sent to retrieve me to start the wedding?
Wait. Where is Nancy?
I’m so confused.
“Livy,” the man repeats. And then he puts his balled fist up to his mouth. He begins to cry.
“Oh my dear, precious, Livy. I have waited so long to see you again.”
See me again? If this is the minister we have issues. He is way too emotional for this job.
“I’m sorry. But who are you, exactly?”
With his hand still at his mouth his lets out a sobby exhale.
“Oh, Livy. I’m your grandfather. My name is Maxwell and I am your mother’s father.”
***
18
Jeremy
The wedding
“Jeremy! Come quick! It’s Livy! She passed out!” Jenna is running and waving at me. I can hardly make out the words.
“What? What do you mean? What happe
ned?”
“You tried to do a good thing, sweet boy, but you surprised the shit out of her and now she’s lying on the floor unconscious.”
Oh shit.
I jump up and follow Jenna.
I’ve been trying to find Livy’s grandfather since the night she told me about her mother. I had my old pal Officer Santos speak to some of his detective friends. Turns out, Livy’s mother had been arrested a few times some years back and once, a man named Maxwell Jenkins bailed her out. Seeing as he had the same last name as Livy and her mother, the detectives rightfully assumed he was family of some sort and after digging a little, they found out he was Livy’s grandfather. They found his current address and I went to visit him a month ago. I told him that I was engaged to Livy and that I didn’t know much about her past but I knew that her mother didn’t treat her well and her fondest childhood memories were of her granddad.
Maxwell cried when I told him that. And he was so very grateful that I reached out to him. He said he had tried to find Nancy and Livy for years but couldn’t. He also said that he had convinced Nancy to live with him and help her raise Livy but that only lasted a few months. Nancy couldn’t keep herself away from the drugs and left with Livy in the middle of the night. He had been heartbroken to find they were gone the next morning. “If only she had asked me. She could have left and let Livy stay with me. She was the most precious child.” He cried more. Then he showed me a few pictures he had of Livy when she was four.
I stayed with Maxwell an entire afternoon. I told him how I met Livy and I showed him some pictures I had of her on my phone.
Then I told him we were getting married in a month and that the best gift I could give my bride was for him to be there and possibly walk her down the aisle.
