by Amelia Mae
It makes it harder to say what I need to say.
Especially considering that she looks so fragile.
“Why did you…” I start, but my voice trails off.
I don’t know what my question is. Why did you leave? Why did you refuse to go to rehab with dad? Why did you wait until almost a year ago to reach out to me when you had so long?
“Why did you miss the wedding?”
Donna looks taken aback. Like, seriously, that’s the question I really wanted to ask?
She takes a minute to answer. Her voice is a little shaky. “I was…"
I wait for it. Selfish. Afraid. Being ridiculous.
“Embarrassed,” she says.
“Embarrassed?” I repeat. “Why would you be embarrassed?”
Donna’s eyes widen in that you’ve got to be kidding me expression.
“Shawn, look around you. Look at where I live,” she says, incredulously. “Now look at me. I’m in my fifties and I look like I’m in my eighties.”
I can’t argue with that, so I keep my mouth shut.
“I failed you, Shawn. And I failed your father. And now he’s married to a beautiful woman and you’ve grown up so fabulously and you all have these wonderful lives. And I’m living in a trailer with three cats and my biggest accomplishment is that I’m not dead.”
I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, but it does nothing to calm my racing heart. I came in wanting to yell at her, but pretty much everything I wanted to say… she’s already said.
Tears well in the corners of her eyes, but I don’t reach out to comfort her. We’re not there yet.
“Addiction is a selfish disease, Shawn,” she says. “But the recovery part is selfish too. Asking for your forgiveness is selfish. So is asking you to be patient with me while I figure myself out.”
I still don’t think that anything I say to comfort her will sound genuine. I’ve been at peace with my mother’s addiction for a while now, but I don’t think that I’ve forgiven her. I’ve treated her more like she was gone on an indefinite vacation.
“Why did you call me then?” I ask.
She sighs. “Because I really do want to be in your life,” she answers. “But, like… a little bit at a time.”
I look at the floor. Then over at Aya, who smiles meekly and takes my hand.
“I think I can do that,” I tell Donna. “A little bit at a time.”
Seven
Shawn
Aya drives us back to the lodge and I’m quiet the entire time. I’m lost in my thoughts, images of my mother in her trailer with her tea and her cats swirling around in my brain. The combination of relief and anger is maddening. I’m happy that she’s safe and I’m glad that I saw her today. And I’m glad that she apologized.
And I’m glad that I didn’t feel compelled to forgive her.
“How do you feel?” Aya asks as we hit the dirt road to the parking lot in front of the lodge.
I shrug. I don’t know. Truly.
“I think….” she starts, cautiously, “I think that I know a little bit about what you’re going through.”
“Aya…”
“Hear me out.”
She takes a deep breath. I know Aya has been through a lot in her life, but I’m failing to see how our situations are similar.
“I think that what you’re feeling now is a little bit like what I felt when I got back from Seoul last year.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
In effort to prove myself to Aya, I sent her and her mother on a trip to South Korea so that Aya could see the city where she was born and maybe tap into a part of herself that I knew she felt was missing. When she came back, I remember picking her up from the airport and she was all smiles. She held me tightly and thanked me over and over again.
“I thought you had a good time in Korea,” I say, slowly, wondering if I read that entire interaction dead wrong.
“No, I did. I totally did, but… Okay, I thought when I was there, I was going to immediately feel something when I got off the plane. And I didn’t.”
“What did you think you’d feel?”
“I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” she muses. “Something… big. Like… I thought I’d feel like… More complete.”
“Hm…”
“I think I’ve always felt like a part of me was missing and that there was a side of myself that I didn’t know yet,” she says, more sure of herself this time. “I thought that going to the place I was born would make that feeling go away.”
“And it didn’t?”
She shakes her head no.
“And it took me a long time to realize why,” she continues.
“Okay… So… why?”
“Because nothing was ever missing.”
I look at my wife, blinking at her in disbelief. I shake my head, thinking back to being a teenager and not having a mother. Being one of the only kids in my class without one. Feeling like something was missing.
“I’m not saying that your life would have turned out differently if your mom were around or if things had been different, Shawn. And I’m not trying to trivialize what you’re going through,” she assures me. “But your identity isn’t ‘the boy who grew up without a mother’ any more than mine is ‘the adopted Korean girl.’ Knowing your mom and letting her into your life will only add to something that’s already complete. It’s not integral to function.”
“Hm…”
Aya cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve been saying that a lot today.”
“I guess I have.”
Aya takes one of my hands in both of hers. Hers are so tiny, with nails painted a dark pink color. She squeezes and it makes me smile. She’s got more grip than you’d think a woman of her size would have.
“Did any of that make any sense at all?” she asks.
“I think so.”
“Good.”
She still isn’t letting go of my hands.
“Do you still want to marry me tomorrow?” she asks.
“More than anything in the world.”
“Phew,” she says, relieved.
It makes me laugh. Like there’s any doubt I don’t want to marry her. Well, remarry her.
“Do you regret not asking your mom to come?” she wonders.
“I’m not ready for that,” I answer, shaking my head. “But I did mean what I said before. I can do a little bit at a time.”
I expect Aya to smile, and she does, but there are tears in her eyes too.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers.
Eight
Aya
It’s been an emotional day and as soon as Shawn and I get inside our cabin, I start tugging at his clothes and pulling him towards the bathroom.
“Good idea,” he murmurs.
I turn on the water for the tub and start the bubbles.
“Yeah, I thought so,” I tell him, teasing. “You smell like…”
He kisses me, cutting me off, and I don’t care anymore.
“Thank you for today,” he whispers, lifting my tee shirt over my head slowly.
“Thank you for every day.”
Relieved to be out of the clothes I’ve been wearing since early this morning, I sink into the warm bath and close my eyes. The water level rises as Shawn gets in behind me. He wraps his arms around me, and I lean back, my head on his shoulder.
“I needed this,” he says.
“Me too.”
Shawn silently plays with my hair.
“You always do that,” I tell him, leaning into his touch.
“Do what?”
“Play with my hair. You do it when you’re stressed.”
He chuckles. “I guess I do. Doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“No. It feels nice.”
It does. I love Shawn’s hands on me. Anywhere.
He smooths my hair over one shoulder and bends down to kiss the bare one. I gasp as his lips trail up my neck, and he sucks on one really sensitive spot.
“Tick
lish,” he says.
It’s not a question. He knows I am and how to exploit it.
I turn around in the tub to face him, trying to straddle his lap, but accidentally sloshing a lot of water over the sides.
“Oops.”
“I’ll clean it up later,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss. We kiss until the water gets cold. Then we wrap ourselves in fluffy towels and head into the bedroom.
Shawn lies on his side, and I climb in the bed next to him, face to face, and he pulls the comforter over both of us. I shiver.
“You’re cold?” he asks, pulling me closer. His skin is warm, and I sink into his easily, letting out a soft sigh.
I press my lips to his. “I, um… I just want…”
“Anything, sweetheart.”
I touch his chest, following my fingertips with my eyes as they move over his body, until they reach his shoulders. I look up into Shawn’s pretty hazel eyes.
“I just want to hold you,” I tell him, barely audibly. “I need to feel that you’re okay.”
Shawn makes a noise. Kind of a low, contented sound. He me in closer.
“Something like this?” he asks.
“Other way around.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t think we’d fit that way,” he jokes. “Unless you want to starfish on top of me. That’d be pretty fun, actually.”
He’s cracking jokes. He’s okay. And I feel like all is right with the world.
But the next morning, I wake up alone. Shawn’s side of the bed is cold, so I know he’s been gone a while. I find some underwear, a tee shirt and jeans, and throw them on to go find him.
Digging through my suitcase, I realize that I forgot to unpack last night. I pull my favorite sundress out and it’s a little wrinkled. I was hoping to be able to wear it for our little wedding ceremony later.
I sigh out, slightly disappointed. I mean, it’s not a super formal ceremony. Just Shawn and me and the guys in the band and their significant others.
It’s fine. My dress can be a little wrinkled, I guess.
I feel the tears coming, and I fight them back. God, this stupid.
Sure I want to look a certain way and I want Shawn to look at me walking down the aisle and get a little choked up.
But, mostly… I want to really feel married. Like, I want to feel like something in our relationship has changed.
Not like I feel right now.
I take a shower, hanging my sundress in the bathroom and letting the steam work out the wrinkles.
Freshly showered, I wrap myself in a towel and head into the bedroom.
“What the hell happened in here?” I ask, gasping.
Pink. Everywhere.
Pink lace, pink taffeta, pink organza. Every cut, style, and shape of pink wedding dress is strewn around the room.
And in the middle of it all is Cora, holding up one of the dresses.
“You did this?” I ask her.
“Actually, Shawn did,” she says. “Well, Shawn’s credit card did.”
“What’s going on?”
“You mentioned wanting a pink wedding dress and Shawn was trying to figure out which one you were looking for,” she starts. “I even helped him snoop around on your laptop. Sorry.”
She wrinkles her nose as she apologizes.
“But we couldn’t find ‘the one,’ so I told him your size, and he bought every pink dress he saw on every website in your search history.”
“Wow,” I say, looking around.
“Well, come on,” Cora says. “Pick one and let’s start trying stuff on. There’s a hairstylist coming in at three and then I’ll do your makeup.”
“Where’s Shawn?” I ask.
“He’s checking on about a million other things right now,” she says.
“What kind of things? It’s just a simple, little wedding.”
Cora smirks and raises an eyebrow. Clearly, I have no idea what I’m in for today.
“Come on,” she says, slyly. “You’re getting married.”
Nine
Shawn
It takes a lot to put an entire wedding together in less than a week and keep the entire thing a secret from your wife.
But just as the sun is setting over the lake, I stand on the packed sand, waiting for my bride. I have on a white dress shirt and grey slacks. Nothing like the tuxedo I wore in the church. I’m not standing on an altar next to any sort of officiant.
Aya and I don’t need anyone pronouncing us married or giving us permission to be together.
Jack, wearing a black dress shirt and dark pants, even on the beach, starts playing guitar. It’s cheesy, but whatever. I want my wife to be able to have her grand entrance.
Ian and Nikki walk down path towards me, arm in arm, leading the impromptu procession. He kisses his little sister’s cheek before she takes a spot next to Jack.
Then Dylan and Jane follow. They’re all smiles too. Dylan, I’m sure, is wondering how long he’ll wait to propose to his girlfriend and have a wedding of his own. Jane smooths her deep red hair over her shoulder and smiles at me.
Finally, I see Aya, arm-in-arm with Cora. I suppose it’s fitting that Cora gives her away since she’s kind of the reason that we met.
I flash back the moment I first saw her, which is actually before we first officially met. I was in the restroom, on the phone with my ex-girlfriend, getting my heart smashed for the hundredth time, and I knew that there was someone awkwardly hiding out in the stall, trying not to get caught.
All I could see was long, blue hair.
We had a rocky start, but it’s all been worth it.
The good times, the tears, the moment when I almost let her walk out of my life forever, and then finally, when I sent her away and could only hope that she’d come back to me… it’s all been worth it.
“Shawn?” Aya asks, softly.
I realize that I’ve been spacing out and not fully taking in this moment.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her.
“You like?”
She’s indicating her dress, which has got kind of a vintage feel to it. It’s strapless and it’s a pretty, peachy-pink color. She looks so happy in it.
“It’s you,” I tell her. “It’s so perfect.”
“Thank you for this,” she whispers.
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. Everyone else finds their places, surrounding us.
“Thank you, everybody. We’re so happy you’re here,” I say to our six guests. “What we’re doing here today is a little unconventional. And since you’ve all sat through one of our weddings before, I think we’re going to keep this short and sweet.”
Mostly because I want to get through the dinner I have planned for us and get my wife back to our room as soon as humanly possible.
“Aya, since the moment we met, life with you has been an adventure,” I start.
I’m pretty sure everyone can hear, but I don’t really care to project. These words are for my wife.
“We met and suddenly, everything I saw was a whirlwind of blue hair and tattoos and wild energy. I knew right from the beginning, that I’d met someone special.”
Aya laughs and takes my hand. Her hair flutters around her shoulders like a princess in a movie.
“After the first night together, I knew I wanted more,” I tell her. Maybe a little too much information for those surrounding us, but I don’t care. “From our first official date, I was positive I could fall in love with you.”
I think back to meeting Aya in that old bar, having a few drinks and her telling me about her mom and her dancing. Everything about her was unexpected, and I was so excited to know more.
“And now seeing you here in this dress, I see my future. And it’s going to be beautiful.” My voice is barely a whisper.
I lean in to kiss her, but she stops me.
“Hey, I have to talk first,” she teases. “Then… that. A lot of that.”
I nod. The others laugh.
“Shawn…” Her voice is sof
t. Kind of nervous. “I don’t want to rehash too much to the past, but before I met you, I didn’t think I’d ever trust a man again.”
I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, knowing what she’s talking about. She’d had an ex-boyfriend who betrayed her in one of the worst possible ways. I still get angry when I think about what he did to her.
“I knew I was attracted to you,” she says. “And I knew you were gorgeous and famous and cool and…” She takes a deep breath. “But I didn’t know the man you were after the spotlight faded and you stepped off the stage. I didn’t know how kind you were or how big your heart was.”
I’m touched.
“And, at first, I don’t think I wanted to know,” she continues. “Because if I didn’t, it would be easier when it didn’t work out. But, stupid me, I went and fell in love with you anyway.”
I smile. “I am so glad I pulled my head out of my ass and came back to you.”
“Me too,” she laughs. “And I’m so happy that I get to marry you today.” She rolls her eyes. “Again.”
When the laughter dies down, I look into her eyes.
“Is that it?” she asks. “Are we married? Can I kiss you now?”
I cut off anything else she might say with a hard kiss on her lips. She melts into the kiss, her hands on my neck.
“I love you, Aya,” I murmur against her lips. “More than I know how to say.”
“I love you, too,” she says, kissing me some more.
The lodge has a small outdoor patio with enough chairs and tables for the eight of us and I’ve arranged for a local restaurant to cater dinner tonight. It’s definitely not as fancy as the banquet hall, but it’s perfect in its own way. Aya’s got my jacket on over her wedding dress and she’s curled up against my side, my arm around her.
I look around at the group of us. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where all four members of our band were in solid, stable relationships. Then again, I didn’t think I’d see the day when our band was playing big shows and making a living doing what we love. Just goes to show that you need to have a little faith.
