The Emancipation of Love

by Mary E. Palmerin

  We went over what she did after the murder and it seems that she covered her tracks well. But, when you have a rat like Thompson on your tail with preconceived notions about what kind of people we are, I can’t help but worry that something bad will be the result. Neither of us are working and we are living off of my savings. Two thousand dollars doesn’t last long when rent is over $900 a month and due soon and you have utilities and food to buy. We are coming up on reliving history once again if I don’t get my shit together.

  It’s a lovely Saturday at the end of fall and I’ve decided to take Gwendolyn to Ecola State Park near Cannon Beach, which is about an hour and a half away from Portland. Filling her life full of happy memories is what I live for. Plus, I have a trick or two up my sleeve to make this one of the most memorable days of our lives.

  “You know how much I hate surprises, Welch. Just tell me already,” she pouts as we trek along west on US-26.

  “You don’t hate them, sweet girl. You just pretend to so I will tell you,” I laugh.

  I would have liked to have planned this better, but it would have ruined the surprise if I had done it properly. Besides, we are rule breakers anyway. We don’t need a piece of paper to substantiate our love. We have our tragedies and triumphs and our love is strong enough to go down in history.

  It’s solid and real.

  We would die for it.

  And we have both killed for it, too.

  That is fucking love right there.

  The Devil’s Tears by Angus and Julia Stone comes on my Pandora station that is hooked up to my phone. I turn the volume up as a smile splays across my face. I can feel her looking at me and I smile wider. I start singing the lines about how I would never give up the love I had for her. She laughs, grabbing my leg while joining in and singing along. Every couple is supposed to have a song; I guess this one could be ours.

  A little over an hour later, we arrive at Ecola State Park. After paying five dollars to get in, I park the car and situate myself, trying to rest my nerves before we start our hike to the beach. Ecola State Park is between Tillamook Head and Seaside and Cannon Beach, offering miles of hiking, sightseeing, and scenic moments to capture.

  “Why are you acting so nervous?” Gwen asks, with a big grin.

  I smile back, trying to forget all the ugly. This is the first normal day we have had in a while between reconnecting, my arrest, and Isabel’s murder. I want this day to be one for the books.

  “I’m not. It’s just nice to feel, I don’t know, normal…”

  I get out of my car, surrounded by lush forests of green ferns and trees. I check the time on my phone, ensuring that punctuality remains on the forefront. It’s only noon and we still have plenty of time until we get to Indian Beach where the surprise that I arranged for her awaits. Our hike will take a bit of time and I want to get started.

  “Let me grab the backpack. Do you have everything you need, Gwendolyn?”

  She shakes her head yes while I walk to the back of my car, popping the trunk to retrieve my bag. I packed a few bottles of water and one mini bottle of champagne (courtesy of Di, who I visited yesterday and told of my plans). I pat my jeans pocket to ensure that I put my keys there and extend my hand to Gwen. She takes it into hers, grabbing it tightly. Maybe she is right. Perhaps normalcy will stick around for a bit.

  I could definitely get used to this.

  She has turned my world around and I like how I feel.

  For the first time in a long while, I am beginning to feel like I am Wonderful William Welch all because of Gwendolyn Beth Fitzpatrick.

  An hour later, we arrive at the sandy mounds of Indian Beach. It’s one of the most breathtaking things I have ever seen before. As long as I have lived in Portland, I have yet to see the Pacific Ocean. The tall rocks and cliffs in the distance look like they have been painted on a blue canvas as the waves crash in the background, calming my once nervous feelings.

  My palms begin to sweat as I see the man who is due to meet us here along with his friend, the guitarist. Everything appears as if it is in its place and I take a moment to look over at Gwendolyn, who seems oblivious to the situation. The man that I hired is a good two hundred feet away and other people walk along the beach as the man beneath the trellis goes on unnoticed.

  I remember everything that she says. Every word and dream that she wants, I etch it into the dark depths of my brain. I promised her and I will do everything to fulfill that. When she told me what kind of wedding she wanted, I promised her that I would give it to her. It may not be official, but we don’t need a piece of paper to show our love.

  I stop her, setting my bag down and leaning over to get the fine tip Sharpie permanent marker out. I bend down on one knee, allowing the grainy sand to rub against my skin through my jeans.

  “Welch? What are you doing?”

  I stick the marker in my pocket, taking both of her hands into mine and kissing them, inhaling her scent. Tears fill my eyes as I think back to all the times I wanted to die, yet her face along with the memories that we shared are the sole reasons for my survival. Gwendolyn is right. No more living in the yesterdays. It’s time to live in the now.

  “Gwendolyn, I still remember the first day I met you. My heart hasn’t been the same since,” I have to pause myself as the tears escape my eyes.

  Goddamn, so much for being Mr. Tough Guy.

  “Oh my God, Welch!” Gwendolyn starts to sob.

  “You are my sole reason for surviving. You are my love. My heart. My all. My sweet, sweet girl. And my monster. I love you more than words can describe. Will you be with me? Always?”

  I look for something, anything in her eyes. An answer, a look to tell me yes, but the waves crashing in the background are all that I hear as my eyes stay fixed on hers.

  “Gwendolyn?”

  Fear fills me. What if she leaves me?

  “Yes! Yes! Always!” she yells.

  I smile, letting the tears stream down my face. I am unashamed. Fuck, we have been through far worse than this. I take the permanent marker out from my pocket and pull her ring finger over to me. I push my lips to her finger and take the marker to her skin, writing ALWAYS.

  “I don’t have a ring, but something better and I hope you approve.”

  “I don’t need a ring, Welch. I have you.”

  “There’s more to this surprise, sweet girl. Look over there,” I point to the man beneath the trellis.

  “I know you don’t have your white dress and I don’t have a suit, but I thought this would be memorable for us, ya know? Just like you said.”

  She tackles me to the ground. I feel the sand grinding into the exposed part of my ankles and neck as her lips meet mine. I rub my hands over her lower back as she tickles her tongue alongside mine and if I had my way, I would turn her over, strip her bare, and fuck her silly before every person on this beach.

  But, I doubt a public indecency ticket would hold up well with my rape allegations. I decide to hold my dick in my pants. Besides, she is still recovering from the loss of our baby.

  “Come on, sweet girl. I still have a few things in store for you.”

  She jumps off of me, offering me her hand to help me up. I get up and hold out my arm and she loops hers around mine. I can hear the faint playing of the guitarist, which is getting louder with each footstep that we take.

  “What is he playing?” she whispers.

  “Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel,” I whisper back, walking along the sandy beach down to the assembled trellis with red roses covering it.

  The guitarist continues to play the lovely tune of Canon in D and I feel proud. Proud of having this woman on my arm as we will soon symbolize our forever together. Proud of being where I am today despite my yesterdays. Proud for living in the now and letting love win out over the bad in my life.

  Because I am worthy of a whole lot and the woman that I have draped on my arm thinks so too.

  Seconds later, we arrive at the front of the trellis where a man wear
ing a charcoal suit with, ironically enough, a red tie on waits. I’m certain I hear Gwendolyn snort a little, which causes me to laugh under my breath. The man seems safe, and it makes me sad that is my criteria for evaluating people. His name is Tim and he is in his fifties with a plump belly and a wrinkled face. When I spoke to him a few days ago letting him know what I wanted, he was more than accommodating. A celebration of our love is all that I want and he was more than willing to help me.

  “Good afternoon. We are gathered here today to celebrate the partnership of two very special people. William Edward Welch and Gwendolyn Beth Fitzpatrick. In doing so, you understand that your love for one another is bound by a lifetime. Mr. Welch, you have a few words?”

  “I do.”

  “Edgar Allan Poe once said ‘Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute’. Well, my life has been the opposite, Gwendolyn. Years of hatred have been forgotten in feeling the love you have given me. Never did I think I would be standing here today, worthy of something so amazing. You have taught me many things, but the most magnificent is the extraordinary way you live for the now. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. But now. Your fiery spirit is like nothing I have ever seen and I am certain, sweet girl, that you were made for me. It is us. Always,” I say as I keep my eyes on hers, then bring her ring finger up to my lips and press a kiss on the place where I wrote ALWAYS.

  She is crying but I see a hint of a smile. I welcome her tears, though. They are the happy ones. The kind that you wish for on a hot summer’s day to cool you off and make you feel new again. She is that and so much more.

  “Gwendolyn, do you want to say anything?”

  Her mouth moves to speak, but no words come out. I give her a gentle squeeze and then her mouth opens again.

  “I could speak for hours, William, and that would never suffice. The boy that I met all those years ago and the man that stands before me today are the sole reason why I am still alive. I wish that I could say something more, other than thank you for being the peace to my heart. The one that understands me with a simple look. You are my always and forever. I couldn’t imagine a tomorrow without you. Your ability to overcome the bad astounds me. I love you more than you will ever know. Thank you for always being there for me. My boy, my savior, my monster, and my all. My Wonderful William Welch.”

  Tim, Tom, whatever his name is speaks, but his words are muted by the look being exchanged between me and Gwendolyn. I clutch her face between my hands and bring her forehead to mine.

  “Always, sweet girl.”

  “Always,” she returns, the happy tears still staining her face.

  Then she kisses me. This is by far the happiest moment of my life.

  “There’s more?” Gwendolyn giggles, looking at the marked word on her ring finger.

  “Oh, sweet girl. I plan on making that word permanent on your finger. I know how you feel about pain and a little needle and aching will do you some good.”

  I wink at her, throwing our things in the trunk. Back to the city we go to the rival tattoo shop to make it official.

  “Are you taking me for a tattoo?”

  “Yep. Always.”

  We get into the car with smiles on our faces and our hearts full.

  “This won’t hurt too bad, sweet girl.”

  I dip the needle in the black ink after washing off her tiny finger.

  We are off 8th Avenue at Skully’s, a rival shop. I called over and spoke to Mason, putting myself out there for some work. Opening my own tattoo studio isn’t in the foreseeable future, and I thought this was the next best thing. Luckily for me, he shares a joint hatred for Noah and wanted to meet me tonight to go over a few things. Mason had heard of me from friends of friends and I had always stayed out of trouble (as far as he knows). Maybe this is a step in the right direction. He offered me some booth space and I start tomorrow night.

  Skully’s is a lot bigger than Black Lotus Ink and has several other tattoo artists. Emie, Tyler, Sebastian, and Mason all work with one apprentice, who goes by nothing other than Skullet. Poor kid is balding on the top and refuses to cut his hair. I guess he earned his nickname honestly.

  “You promise?” she asks, pitifully.

  “Yes, I have seen you handle a lot worse,” I laugh.

  I press the buzzing tattoo gun onto her finger and she sighs as I move it to and fro, making little lines until minutes pass and the word ALWAYS is complete. I clean it off again and rub some A & D ointment on it.

  “That’s it?” she asks.

  “Yep. You made it through your first tattoo.”

  “That was nothing. I think I am already planning my second!”

  “A little impulsive, Mrs. Welch?”

  “Only when it comes to things that I love, Mr. Welch.”

  “Well, you must be one lucky woman then…”

  “Yeah, why is that, Mr. Welch?” she croons, looking at her inked ring finger.

  “Because you are with a hot, tattooist forever. That’s why.”

  “You seem awfully full of yourself, Mr. Welch. But given your admission, you have every reason to be. You have the goods to back it up,” she laughs, grabbing my crotch as she bends over to kiss me.

  Again, the impulsive nature that I have wants to break through the surface and fuck her silly before all my new co-workers, but I stop myself.

  “Yo, Willy, you ready?” Mason calls out to me.

  I can’t say I am fond of my new nickname, but it is definitely better than Worthless William or shithead. I decide against correcting him.

  “Yep. Be right there!”

  “My turn for the glorious torture, Gwen!”

  I take her hand in mine and walk past the work stations, smiling at pictures of the tattooists with their families taped to the mirrors along with framed photos of their most prized work pieces. Maybe that will be Gwendolyn and me soon enough. A Polaroid picture of me, her, and a sweet little redhead that we call our own. My heart speeds up at the thought.

  Mason prepares his work station, then cleans my left ring finger off. I look to the picture he has taped to his mirror, a young blonde woman and a toe haired baby that looks to be about one.

  “Beautiful family, man.”

  “Thank you. Pearl just turned one last month. That’s my girl, Wren.”

  “How long have you two been together?” Mason asks as the buzzing of the gun starts.

  I look to Gwen and smile, not really sure how to answer that question.

  “Our yesterdays don’t matter. Only today. But we have known each other since we were seventeen.”

  “Truth. Live each day like it is your last,” Mason says, making a few lines until he is done.

  “Okay, man. You are good to go. Look alright?” he asks, wiping it free from the smeared black ink.

  “Looks great. I love it. Thanks so much, dude. I will see you tomorrow. I appreciate the opportunity. I hope to bring some business here.”

  We make more small talk and I shake his hand, bidding him goodbye. Everything is falling into place and life is good. I have my girl, my job, my life.

  Free. Free at last.

  Portland. West Coast love.

  But we have a rat on our tail.

  “I still cannot believe that you planned all this, Welch! Seriously!” Gwendolyn dotes as we head to the historic Hawthorne Bridge. I still have that bottle of champagne to drink and I want to do it as we admire the stars, reflecting on how incredible our day was.

  “We aren’t yet done, sweet girl. One more stop,” I say, heading down Madison towards the old bridge that sits above the Willamette River.

  A lot of people walk and ride their bikes on it. It’s close to where I live and also a historical place. Seems fitting for our life and story.

  “You are too good to me, Welch. Sometimes when I think about everything, all that you have done for me, it’s too much. I think to myself, love like this doesn’t exist except in the movies. But it does, because I have it. I feel like the luckiest person in the world.
”

  “I feel the same way about you. Being at Skully’s really made me feel like I had found my place. Something about it was homey. I really do feel like our pieces are finally fitting into place.”

  I park the car and we walk down the bridge hand in hand. I feel the wind rush over my new tattoo, the most meaningful one that I have, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. We get to the edge of the bridge as we are greeted with the outline of part of Portland.

  “It seems like so long ago that we had dreams of getting here, wondering how we were going to eat our next meal. Now, we are surviving. From Spam to champagne.”

  I have to add some light to the conversation as I pull the tiny bottle along with two red plastic cups out of my bag. I pop the top off and the bubbly foams over, so I put one cup beneath it to catch its contents. I pour the rest in the other cup and hand it to Gwendolyn. Again, her face lights up like a star that will never lose its life. The simplest things make her happy as we sit on an old bridge in Portland about to toast out of plastic cups and drink cheap champagne. But, this is the life.

  “We aren’t just surviving, Welch. We are thriving.”

  She takes the cup into her hand as her long, red hair blows along in the wind perfectly. I wish I had a camera to capture this moment. Hell, I wish I had a camera to capture every spectacular second that she gives me, but I have my memory, my paper, and my pencil. Those things will never waver.

  “You are absolutely right. I still can’t believe that we made it here. I can, but just saying that seems so surreal, ya know?”

  She nods her head yes while gazing up at the stars. I have never been able to notice many of them being in the city, but she points upwards, “There is the North Star. If you ever get lost, follow it and it will take you north.”

  I look up and see a vibrant light in the sky. Gwen is smiling as she points to something else, “and that is Venus.”