I half expected you to alight the
church and forbid the vows on my wedding day. I wore a pink satin
sash. But you didn't come. I couldn't have you.
I.
The sash had come from her old nightgown, the one she had worn when she last saw Peter. She though, perhaps, if she wore it now, he would come for her. Save her from marriage and being a grown up. Save her, and love her and keep her. It wasn't too late; she was only seventeen. She could still remember how to fly – so could her brothers. Yes, if only Peter would come for them all now, they could go back to living in the tree house the Lost Boys built for her so long ago. Her wedding was only a few weeks away, so why wasn't he here?
II.
Wendy watched the streets of London go by her in a daze. Today was her wedding day, and her father was determined to send her off in style. Wendy didn't like automobiles as much as she liked carriages, but it didn't much matter, anyway. She had spent all of last night at the window waiting for Peter. When her mother came to wrap a blanket around her, Wendy cried in her arms. Had Peter forgotten her? No, of course not! He was probably late. Caught in a fight with Hook, no doubt. She would be at the altar and just before the priest could pronounce anything, he would fly in, bathing everything in faerie dust and demand that everything be stopped.
The automobile stopped at the church, and Wendy bravely got out. Surrounded by friends and family, this was supposed to be a happy day, and it was. She was certain Peter would be here, just as she had imagined. She would hear him crow, he would grab her (after his challenge to duel had been declined by her fiancé, of course), and they would fly away to Neverland together.
The organ music started to play, and it was almost time for her to walk down the aisle. She looked at all the places Peter could be hiding, but didn't see him. She forced herself to smile. Now she was really was at the altar, and the priest had pronounced her a wife. Underneath her veil, hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Peter hadn't come, her happy thought was lost, and now it was too late.
III.
Peter came again after Jane's daughter had grown up and had a child of her own. When Wendy looked at the boy she once loved, it broke her heart all over again. Wendy hadn't expected to see him again; she thought that he had forgotten about her. If she had been young, she would have yelled at Peter, raged at him. Now she was far more than a grown up; her younger brothers were dead and she had a great-granddaughter. Now she was far too old for anything but weary resignation. Yes, she had promised never to grow old, but it couldn't be helped. The most she could ever do was to leave the window open. And now as she watched Peter look at Moira the way he had once looked at her, she almost wished she hadn't. With one kiss on her sleeping grandchild's lips, Peter decided he was ready to be kept; it only seventy years too late.
IV.
Wendy watched Peter turn into an adult. If she had been young again, even for a moment, she would have laughed at herself. Peter Pan grow up? Preposterous. Yet here he was in his late teenage years going to school, reading, writing, and calling her granny. That hurt more than anything. Oh yes, he called her almost every week from America. He had a passion for books and was going to get an accounting certificate before entering law school. He also frequently rang Moira. This bothered Wendy significantly less than she ever imagined. Her great granddaughter was the best of them all; Peter choosing her was proof enough of that. The boy himself had forgotten everything, but perhaps it was for the best. If he ever did remember, he might want to go back, and then Moira's heart would be broken.
V.
Peter married Moira shortly after graduating from law school. With all of his ambitions and plans for the future carried out, he had stopped being a child long ago. He had been one for so long, it only made sense that he would grow up so very quickly. Oh yes, Wendy still loved him, but she remembered a different boy all together. One who faced a pirate captain to save her, one who spent his days playing games and eating imaginary food. One who flew with faeries and was never scared of heights. Now Peter surrounded himself with numbers and money and spent his days arguing over figures. He wasn't the same boy who had given her a thimble, and Wendy barely recognised him. It was for the best, she eventually realised. Otherwise she would never get rid of ache in her heart whenever she looked at his children.