As I stand at the altar next to Collin, my best man, I look around and begin to feel anxious. The nerves are from happiness that I'm finally here at this point in time. Our families, the tribal elders, and the wolf pack are sitting in the front rows.
The music begins and seconds later the flower girl, Sam's 5 year old daughter, comes out spreading the blue flower petals from her small woven basket. Then the 3 bridesmaids with 3 other best men proceed to walk down the aisle followed by maid of honor, Karen's best friend. The bridesmaids are wearing different types of dresses with the same color scheme; it's white with a tinge of blue. I remember Karen saying she wanted to compliment her bridesmaids by letting them choose a dress that they felt comfortable in.
Finally, Karen preceded her walk to the altar with her father as her escort. Her dress is as white as snow and so long it reached the floor. My hands sweat as she comes closer. Her brown highlighted hair was pulled into an elegant bun with curls underneath. She looked beautiful in our winter themed wedding.
As her father gently placed her hand on top of mine he whispered, "Take care of her."
"I will sir," I replied. He went back to sit next to his wife. For a second Karen and I smiled before proceeding to the ceremony. The music came to a close and Old Quil took the stand. Karen and I held hands throughout the ceremony. Somewhere between his speech, Karen whispered, "I still have that hockey trading card you gave me years ago as part of the something old, blue, and borrowed." I smiled and I couldn't believe that she still had it after all this time.
That brings me back to when we first met. We were just 7 years old and in 2nd grade. Almost 15 years ago. I sat in class when she walked into Mrs. Baker's classroom. She was new to school and I didn't know why I wanted her to sit next to me. When you're 7 years old you don't know what girls are. All you know, or think, is that they have cooties, and that the idea of kissing one is disgusting. Therefore, the idea that I wanted her to sit next to me because of her beauty was absolutely foreign to me.
Mrs. Baker instructed her to sit in front of me. I was secretly happy, but I never told any of the boys because they would think I was a sissy or something. It seemed the closer she got to me the more beautiful she seemed. She was shorter than me, and her hair was blond with natural curls and highlights. Her eyes were extremely blue to me, they seemed ocean deep and reminded me of my grandma's because of their depth.
At first, I didn't dare talk to her because I was scared. More than that, I was scared that she wouldn't like me. I tried to catch even a glimpse of that didn't work, I tried being the new class clown, but she wouldn't even laugh at times because she was too concentrated on her grammar work. My last attempt of trying to catch her attention was by trying to be smart. During that time I tried reading the most books at the end of the month, got A's in most of my work and tried answering every question Mrs. Baker asked in class.
That was when she started to talk to me, but every time she did, it was to ask me about the class work. I wanted her to talk to me about other things besides school. Alas, there were no improvements and I was still struggling to understand the alien feelings I felt for her.
My mother knows how many days I came home looking love struck and resembled like a lost puppy dog. She was alarmed by the phone calls my teacher made to her to let her know about my misbehaving in the beginning. My mom became increasingly worried about me and one day she came to me as I ate a peanut butter jelly sandwich in February. "Honey," she said sitting next to me, "Is something wrong?"
At first I had no idea what she was talking about. By then I was being good and my grades were getting better. "No, mom, nothing is wrong," I replied as I took another bite from my PB&J.
"Are you sure? Sometimes you look sad when you come home from school," she asked as she patted my head full of hair.
"Oh," I said realizing that I have been looking sad lately; however, it was from Karen's inattentiveness rather than from a bully. "No, mom, it's just that-" I hesitated to continue.
"What is it baby? You can tell me."
"Okay, but don't laugh," I said. She promised and I told her all about Karen and how I thought she was pretty, wanted her to sit next to me for no apparent reason, and how I've been trying to catch her attention which ultimately lead me to trouble. Most importantly, I let her know that I didn't know why I liked her. She didn't laugh, but listened to my miniature problems.
"Look, Brady," she said. "You don't have to act out for a girl to like you. She'll like you for who you are."
"So what now? What do I do? I think I've done everything!" I exclaimed. At age 7 liking a girl was a big thing and almost unheard of. "I have an idea," My mother said with a smile plastered to her face. I could tell that behind her eyes where her mind is she was coming up with a master plan for Karen to notice me for once. "Valentine's Day is coming soon right?" I nodded with dread. It was the only holiday I hated. It was a day full of red, pink, hearts, chocolates, kisses, cupids and cards. To me it was a repulsive holiday. At least in Labor Day everyone gets the day off. "How about if we go get the Valentine cards for your class and you can get something special for Karen?"
"Something special? Like what?" I asked.
"Like a cute teddy bear or maybe flowers; girls like that," she said. I just nodded and let her do the shopping. She picked out a teddy bear with a heart in the middle that said Happy Valentine's Day. The nose was replaced with a red heart and the soles of its feet had hearts, too. The cards we picked out were of SpongeBob Squarepants with a valentine's theme.
The days went by and as February 14 got closer, I became worried about bringing a stuffed bear for a girl on Valentine's Day. What would the other kids say? Would Karen like the gift or would she laugh in my face?
At school we made boxes and covered them in things we liked for Valentine's Day; they were to be used for the cards everyone was to give out that day. Mine was covered in pictures of hockey players, logos of my favorite teams, and some of my favorite cartoons. I noticed that Karen's was covered in hearts, stars, and a couple of bears. Suddenly I was excited to show her the bear my mom picked out for her, and I wasn't scared about being laughed at by the other kids.
Before I knew it, it was the day I would hopefully steal Karen's heart. I went to school with my best school clothes, hair gelled back, the teddy bear in one hand, and the cards in the other. I walked to school almost confident until the school bully found me. I tried walking faster, but it was no use, and he pushed me to the ground. He grabbed the bear and tore it in two. Tossed them into the street and kept walking to school. I wanted to cry, but even at 7 years old I knew it would show weakness. I got up and pulled myself together and kept walking.
I arrived to class disappointed and sat at my seat. Now I had nothing special to give to her. When Mrs. Baker said to give out our cards, I took the time to think of what to give to Karen besides her card. I looked through my book bag and found the most precious thing in the world to me: my one of a kind Mike Modano Hockey Trading Card. My mom said to give her something special and this was my prized possession I decided to give this to her as that something special. This was better than the stupid bear my mom picked out.
Then I got a piece of paper and wrote in my best handwriting I know this is nothing to you, but it is the best trading card I have. I am giving it to you because I like you a lot. I think you are very pretty. I don't know what made me do this, but either way, I placed it in her box full of hearts, stars and bears.
The following days I overheard her talk about the card and handwritten note that was left in her box. I didn't fess up until the end of the school year. We were waiting for our parents to pick us up. Karen asked me, "Do you know who left that hockey card and note in my Valentine box?"
I felt my cheeks get hot; I thought it was time to finally tell her the truth. "I do," I told her.
"Really, who was it?" She said excitedly.
"It was me."
"Really?"
"Yeah, the note and the hockey card was mine," I confessed.
"Really," she said looking at me, "Well…what did it say?"
"It said I know this is nothing to you but it is the best trading card I have. I am giving it to you because I like you a lot. I think you are very pretty," I told it word for word. She smiled wider.
"Thank you, I really liked it, but I liked the note more," she said. Her mother finally arrived and before she left, she pressed her soft lips on my cheek. "Bye," she said as she ran to her car.
"Bye," I yelled out.
Now here we are 15 years later, the card somewhere on her and us getting married. It's hard to believe that a card could have started all of this. The moment finally came and we said our "I Do's" which meant that she was mine and a I was hers forever. "You may kiss the bride," Old Quil announced. I pulled her close and kissed her; our family and friends erupted in applause .We broke the kiss and said "I love you."