A few months later. June/July. Albuquerque.
Standing as I am in my wedding dress in the middle of a national park (the wilderness has been transformed into a white laced and wild Chapel). I’m there with my mom Janel, Whitney, my maid of honor. And Riley and Brynn Smith, their perspective wives and Whitney’s sister-in-law, Monica.
We have all spent all morning getting ready for this wedding. I actually got ready in my old bathroom at Dad’s house. It was the last kindness I was done by the new owners of his house before going to the park to get married today. Sounds weird, but I just wanted to feel like Dad was present while I was getting ready. Having my hair and makeup done, since he won’t be here to walk me down the aisle today.
Of course, I’m sad thinking about this, but I quickly. I’m standing in front of Brandon now, our vows being shared. Brandon goes first. “Juliet, when I first met you, I wasn’t sure you were real. I thought you were a ghost. I still don’t think you belong on this planet, but now instead of a ghost, I think you’re an angel.” Birds twitter and tweet in between these words, seeming to agree about my heaven-sent origins. “Little did I know when I grabbed you off that cliff side almost 6 months ago, that you would become not only my best friend, but my wife. The mother of my first child, who I can’t wait to meet in a few months.”
My mother sniffles on the side. She’s one of my bridesmaids, after all. She also happens to be the ring bearer, since nobody else wanted to volunteer.
Brandon clears his throat, taking my hand. “I am blessed and honored to have you in my life, juju-bear. I hope you’ll do me the honor of sharing my life with me as well. I will live for nothing else in my life but you and my children. I look forward to years together with you, both in the woods and down off the mountain. I can’t wait to see all the style and pizazz you bring into my life, and the lives of our children. You are truly a work of art.”
With these words, my mother comes up with the decorative pillow with the rings on it.
The pastor, a middle-aged woman who also happens to be a self-proclaimed Wiccan, asks, “Juliet, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” I say, and Brandon slips the ring on my finger. While I’ve been wearing an engagement ring for the last few months, it doesn’t compare to the feeling of a wedding ring slipping over my finger. I feel sealed. Loved. Adored. And now it’s time for me to say my vows. Things I have actually been practicing in the mirror while getting ready as well. “Brandon, when I met you, I honestly didn’t want to live. I didn’t know what I had to live for. I didn’t know if I would ever be back to my normal self. I didn’t know if I would ever be the person I was before my dad died.” My voice breaks over these words, as much as I had been practicing otherwise. “But, because of you, I cannot only say that I’m the person I’ve always been. Vivacious. Creative. In love with life, but I can say I’m better than I was before. I’m warmer. More open. A mother.” I smile, unable to believe how much joy that one word gives me. And when I wasn’t the kind of girl who played with dolls growing up. “Because of you, I have more to do with my life. I have more to live for than ever. And to think I came up to the mountain to escape. To get out of my life as I knew it.” I blink away tears. “Because of you, my life has changed in ways I could’ve never imagined. I’m a better person, a better wife and mother because of you.” I clear my throat. “It will be my honor to be your wife until death do us part, Brandon.” As I say this, I catch a glimpse at Harlow, who just has so happens to be Brandon’s best man. He gives me a thumbs-up. “Thank you for never giving up on me. And thank you for letting me not run away.”
With that, I fall silent, and the officiate steps forward to do her job. “Brandon Whitley, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” he says, and I slipped the ring on his finger.
“Then I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Whitley, man and wife in the eyes of God, and all gathered here today.” Even before the pastor has stopped talking, Brandon and I are already leaning close to kiss each other. We’re already giggling at the prospect. “You may now kiss the bride,” she adds, veritably rolling her eyes. To her, we must look like high school sweethearts.
That’s all we need. The minute were given permission, we lock lips. We swap spit too. Don’t care that this is an intimate family event, I give him tons of tongue. And he returns it tenfold.