I know it's short... I apologise.
I'm working on the next chapter at the moment, this is the last of the chapters I've got ready typed up.
We spent the entire night driving South. I was vaguely aware of the fact that Renee was supposed to be back in Seattle on Monday morning, but she seemed unfazed, and remained her hyperactive self - at least for the first 12 hours, after which we pulled into a motel somewhere in Southern Oregon.
As soon as we re-awoke, we hit the road again, desperate to reach Vegas as soon as possible. It only took a few hours before we were driving into the neat rows of suburban houses that surrounded a city infamous for the proverbial sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. It was an amusing juxtaposition.
The concept of running away to get married in Vegas seemed so simple when we were in the Port Angeles restaurant. The bizarre reality was somewhat different. For a start - where were these instant wedding chapels? They were the kind of place you seemed to hear all about - but where in earth were they to be found?
One might imagine one could just pull over and ask a passer-by, but the way Vegas looks during the day is somewhat different to the glitz, glam and bright lights that immediately spring to mind when Las Vegas is imagined. Like a place where a party was held the night before, the Las Vegas of the "morning after" is not quite so flashy.
The streets are lined with old flyers, broken bottles and the occasional poker chip. Huddled piles of clothing mark the places where those who overindulged sleep off hangovers.
No, the Vegas of the morning after the night before does not offer the kind of surroundings that induce one to ask any random passer-by.
I gently awoke Renee, who was dozing in the passenger seat. Something told me she'd have fewer qualms about asking for directions. I was right. No sooner has I woken her, than we were on our way, following directions from a bored-looking woman sweeping the road.
It was mad how quickly this had all happened. I knew it was right - perfect, even, but I wasn't used to the spontaneity. I liked careful planning of every tiny detail. In this way (one way among many), I was the polar opposite of Renee. Lucky for me that opposites attract.
There is something rather sad about these 24 hour chapels. You sense that for all the happy marriages made here, there are at least twice as many that fail. I felt sure ours would be the former.
The ceremony went too quickly to think about. I was too swept up by emotion to recall very much, but it felt like the ceremony was over in a few minutes. A few words, a camera flash, and it was over, with the priest practically forcing us out of the door.
As soon as we were outside, I pulled Renee to me and kissed her to within an inch of her life. If there had been anyone else around, I'm sure we would have been asked to dissist. It was all I could do to stop myself from ripping her clothes off right there in the street.
With something of a lack of autonomy, we clambered back into my rusty Citroen, and made our way to another motel. I won't go into the details of the time that passed, as day blurred into night, which blurred once more into day.
An immeasurable amount of time passed, after which we lifted ourselves out of the haze we had entered into. It seemed...right to tell our parents the happy news, and as soon as possible - by telephone.
Renee took the payphone first, with a slightly panicked look - this would be the time to tell her parents the other happy news - and even carefree Renee was somewhat intimidated by the idea.
I let my mind wander as Renee chatted to her parents. It drifted back to her, my ears not focusing on the conversation, but my eyes trying to take in every inch of her beauty, the bow of her lips, the way the wispy bits of her hair just in front of her ears curled slightly...the slight thinning of her eyelashes as they reached the edge of her eyes.
Abruptly, it seemed, Renee finished her phone call, and with some relish, handed the phone to me. I dialled the number slowly, and raised it to my ear nervously. I knew my parents like Renee, but my mother would be so disappointed I;'d got married without her there with me.
Each ring of the telephone made my heart rise higher in my throat.
And then it hit voicemail. Which was strange. I was right in thinking it was Sunday, surely? My mother always did laundry on Sundays. So why wasn't she answering the phone?
Perplexed, I joined Renee in the car, as we began the long drive back to Forks.
Why isn't his mum answering? You'll have to add me to Story Alerts to find out! haha.
