Isa

Every little girl has had some sort of fantasy about her future wedding. All of them. If someone tells you they haven’t, then they’re lying.

I had had my wedding planned for years when I was little. Of course, I would be wearing a blinding white dress. It would be a ridiculous, flared ball gown, and the train would rival Princess Diana’s. I would wear a tiara in my hair, and we would have hundreds of guests. My father would walk me down the aisle and give me away to the man of my dreams, who would be my perfect Prince Charming in every way.

The fantasy changed a little the older that I got. I realized that the dream of having unlimited guests and the grandest of everything that money can buy was not a feasible dream because weddings cost money, and sometimes, you have to pay for them on your own. Another thing I realized was that getting married wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do. It wasn’t even that high on the list of things I wanted to do. I wanted to work and establish myself in my career. I wanted to live alone and enjoy my independence. I wanted maybe to even date and spend time with different people who potentially could teach me things and who I could have new experiences with.

My actual wedding had come as a rude shock and not one element of it was my own planning. Nothing. From the dress to the guest list, nothing was mine. The dress that had fit me like a glove and made me feel like absolute royalty was not selected by me though I had to wear it. Overall, it was a beautiful ceremony. However, because the pleasure of planning it had been taken from me, I was upset about it. That and the way that I felt about Lorenzo in the beginning. Lorenzo wasn’t someone I had picked, and I was being forced to leave a job I loved and was good at in order to be married to him. It was really insulting actually, the more I think back to it. Quite frankly, the arrangement was terrible and I had hated all of it.

The second time round was going to be different.

The truth was, we didn’t need all of it. We didn’t need any of it. All we needed was each other—and that was it.

Neither of us had ever been to St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Madison Avenue, but they asked the least questions concerning the type of ceremony that we were looking for. Our last one had been simple, but this was going to be even more so. Nothing over the top. Just two crazy kids who loved each other and wanted to get married.

There were no guests. Not even our parents. This time, it wasn’t about them. It was about us, as we were the only people who needed to be there. We had flowers, but only white roses lining the pews. That was all there was as far as decorations, and for a car, we were just going to use Lorenzo’s to get back home when we were done. We spent the night before the wedding together, but in the morning, he left before me so he would wait for me at the church. Marina came over and helped me into my gown. She was going to be my ride to the church.

“I can't believe this is the second time that you’re getting married and you aren’t inviting me for this one either,” she grumbled. She was upset, but she wasn’t that upset. There was a smile on her face, and I could tell that she was happy for me more than anything else. Due to the nature of the first wedding, the planning was completely in the hands of our parents, chiefly Lorenzo’s mother who didn’t know any of my friends, so Marina was left off the list. It was a blow at the time because I would have appreciated the support, but then again, she was in total opposition to the marriage the first time around and might have caused a scene at the wedding.

I sort of wanted her to be in attendance at this one, but that wasn’t part of the deal. The whole point of getting married again was to do it for ourselves. Legally, we were already married, so we weren’t going to go through all the paperwork again, but what we had lacked was the symbolic joining of two people who actually loved each other and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. The vows hadn’t been true before, and we wanted a chance to say them to each other in a way that was honest and that both of us meant.

“I’m sorry, Marina. Neither of us are having guests, that was the deal,” I said to her. “The last time we didn’t get to plan anything... we just want this one to be for us, you know?”

“I know,” she said, exaggerating an eye roll. “Still, it would have been nice to be part of your bridal party,” she said.

“Isn’t it enough that you are the only person we have even told about this?” I asked her.

Getting married in secret wasn’t as hard as we had both anticipated. Once Lorenzo had stepped back from the business, we had a lot of free time on our hands to plan our future lives. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we couldn’t completely cut ourselves off from the city, but moving between two homes was not something that limited us. I—at the very least—wanted our baby to be born in the city, even if we didn’t live there all the time.

“I suppose I feel a little special,” she said, smiling. “Where are you honeymooning?” she asked.

“Santorini for one week before another in Tuscany,” I said. Santorini was for me because fuck if my pregnancy was going to stop me from wearing a bikini, and Tuscany was for him because he wanted to have the wine. I, of course, could not, but that was okay. What was marriage about if not compromise? Once the baby was born and I was done breastfeeding, I could drink like a fish again.

“God, you’re so lucky. He spoils you rotten,” Marina said. “Don’t forget about us here, slumming it in New York City.”

“Marina, you know we are going to be coming back from time to time,” I said lightly. She was helping me ease into my wedding gown. It was very difficult to make maternity wedding gowns because babies grew and pregnant women gained weight. Our best bet was an empire waist design where my belly wouldn’t be an issue and it would be comfortable. We were in our fifth month and everything was right on track. The baby—I knew the sex, Lorenzo did not—was a boy, and we had nothing to worry about. Everything was fine, and we were right on track for delivery in December or late November.

“How often is time to time?” she asked me.

“You won’t even notice I’ve been gone,” I said to her. She zipped me into the dress, and I sat on the bed to get my shoes on. Flats, of course. I was pregnant. I wasn’t going to squeeze my swollen ankles into Louboutins for anyone, not even Lorenzo on our second wedding. My hair was down, and I was doing my own makeup. When we were done, she drove us to the cathedral where Lorenzo was waiting with the priest who would marry us.

My father had walked me down the aisle the first time that Lorenzo and I had gotten married, so I tried to find solace in that. Neither of us would even have our parents there, but walking down the aisle alone, it hurt a little knowing that even if I had wanted him to walk me down the aisle it was not an option. Lorenzo and I would have to have a talk about naming the baby after him.

He looked amazing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me. I had told him to dress casually. We were getting married, but it was just us, he didn’t need to impress me. He had on slacks and a dark shirt, no tie. He smiled at me as I walked down the aisle. The organist had so kindly agreed to come and play at the wedding even though it was literally just us. My bouquet was a bunch of white roses, the first kind of flower that he had ever gotten for me. He took my hand as I approached him.

There were no ‘dearly beloved’ gathered to celebrate our union. There were no people called to object if they thought we shouldn’t be married. There was no audience of eager, upset, or tearful faces, looking on as we committed our lives to each other. All we wanted was to be able to say our vows to each other, the vows we meant to one another, that would matter when nobody else was around.

He went first. I watched him take both my hands in his two hands. I was confused for a second, expecting that he would have something written down and that he would pull it out then to read it.

“Isa,” he started, “the first time that I met you, you took my breath away. I couldn’t wait to be able to call you my wife. When you walked down the aisle you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I saw the sadness in your eyes as you said I do and it was at that moment that I should have sworn to never be the reason that you had tears in your eyes again. You deserve the world Isa, and I swear that I am going to be the one who gives it to you. I love you and I want to show you that I do every single day,” he said.

I had cried at the first wedding, and I was crying now, but for a very different reason. I had written my own vows and was going to pull them out and read them when it was my turn, but I didn’t know if I could measure up to the sincerity I had heard in Lorenzo’s earnest, short speech. I swallowed and decided to just say what I meant.

“I didn’t know that there were men like you until we were together. Your heart is so generous and you love with all you have. I have known some of the best moments of my life at your side, and I know that there, beside you, is a place that I can be sure that I will be safe and that you will be there for me. If I didn’t have anything, I would still want you because you sustain me and give me so much. So much more than I deserve or have any right to ask of you. You are the man that I love, and I can’t wait to give birth to your son, Lorenzo. If he’s even half the man that you are, it would be more than enough.”

His eyebrows raised a little when I said “son.” I had ruined the surprise, but he didn’t seem mad. He wasn’t crying, but the look on his face was priceless. We kissed, and in that moment, it was only us. For the first time since we had met, our relationship felt like something that we owned and was ours to enjoy. The past several months had been a total rollercoaster. It was sometimes horrible and painful and sometimes I had felt the height of happiness and elation. The beginning of our life hadn’t been fair to us, but without it, we wouldn’t have been able to get to this point, truly pledging ourselves to each other in the most honest way that we knew how. We weren’t trying to erase it. We didn’t need a new start. We just needed to be able to own it.

And it was perfect...our tiny, informal wedding, before zero witnesses—besides the priest and the baby in my belly. Our baby. That night we would be flying out on our honeymoon, and I couldn’t wait. Finally, we would get the beginning that we deserved.

THE END

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