Kathy and Owen had a summer wedding.
Jubilant blades of peppermint green grass tickled my giggling feet, lacing crowns of freshly bloomed pinkcats around my ankles. The laughing breeze whisked transiently across our skin, carrying rays of afternoon sunshine in its glowing touch. Sprawling watermelons, roosting comfortably amongst their own vines, peered flamingo-coloured eyes out to watch.
The couple had decided to trade the typical church wedding for an outdoor one, held on Flute Fields. Luna, Selena and I had spent the morning fussing over Kathy's hair and make up, cherishing the last few moments our little group had together as legitimate bachelorettes. After countless of warnings of, you'd better not cry, I spent forever on your eyeliner, and, don't you dare forget us when you're happily married, and innumerable assurances that she would never dream of it, we had dabbed away the tears we swore we weren't going to shed and left the radiant bride, so we could take our places on the soft meadow.
"There you go," I patted Toby's lapel, smoothing his boutonniere onto the camel linen; small bundles of viburnum berries, raspberries, ferns and millets, tied together to create the woodsy, rustic look Kathy and Owen had envisioned for their ceremony. "You look very handsome," I grinned at my best friend, admiring the tuxedo Owen had picked out for his groomsmen to wear.
"You're looking pretty beautiful yourself," my favourite fisherman smiled dreamily, infinite eyes pleating neatly at their mellowed edges. True to her word, Kathy had ditched the puffy peach dresses – although, at one point, she had jokingly suggested the idea, sending Selena into a fit – and found for us these silk-organza bridesmaids frocks that were the perfect hue: melding of almonds and meringue, champagne and malt. An intricate arrangement of florets, matching the bunches pinned to the groomsmen's' collars, weaved through our locks, intertwining their cherry tones from behind chestnut, lavender-pink and magenta tresses.
Luke, Julius and Toby stood behind Owen, to Perry's right. The twenty-nine-year-old groom overflowed with elation, rocking back and forth on his heels in anticipation of his gorgeous bride. Selena and Luna bustled around the blacksmith one last time, making sure that not a single red hair fell out of place.
"Quit your fidgeting," Luna scolded shrilly, usual whipped cream ponytails left down to cascade past her shoulders in large, gentle curls. The miniature berries blended into her spilling mane, charmingly complementing the cupid pink.
"I swear to Dios," Selena spouted, slicing tongue pressing cold metal edges against Owen's large neck, "you better be shuffling around because you're excited, not because you're having second thoughts." The fruity bulbs got lost in Selena's thick mass of hair, leaving only the sweet pea green of the ferns and smoked butter millet to shine through.
"Second thoughts?" he repeated, flabbergasted, chocolate brown eyes widening in utter disbelief, "Not on my life."
Selena pursed her plump cinnamon lips together, speckled with glitter flecks and coated in high-beam gloss, before nodding at him in approval. "Good." Her smile was like being stared down by a fearsome, ravenous lion, with your trembling back pressed against its territorial cage – nowhere to run – and finally heaving a sigh of relief when the king of the jungle chose mercy, allowing you to run free fingers through its silky umber mane.
Luke's amber eyes darted inconspicuously over to her, unable to resist. The liquid gold in his irises drank in Selena's untamed, uninhibited aura, mincing words and occasional Spanish inflection and elegantly brash movements that swayed the dancer's voluptuous, tanned hips. I love you more than my own skin.
This was what it was like to be somebody's second choice, their fallback plan, to exist in the shadow of the one who had set up camp in his heart and nailed stakes into the cardiac muscle. I wasn't resentful or jealous or hurt; I understood.
"Are you sure about this?" Toby asked in concern, ever so perceptively catching sight of me witnessing Luke's discreet pining. The carpenter and I had been dating – I guess you could call it that – for a season now. Pretty much nothing had changed; we still took care of Heath, tucking his dozy form into bed and taking him to Fugue Forest to play hide-and-seek amongst shadowy birch trees, knowing Calvin's imminent recovery was drawing near. We both eagerly anticipated and dreaded it. Once we no longer had the responsibility of this lively child on our hands, there would be nothing keeping us together. We would just be two people who had settled for one another, simple as that.
"Not at all," I admitted grimly to the fisherman; Luke was safe, he wasn't going anywhere. The question wasn't whether we were going to work out: it was whether we even wanted to be together in the first place.
Toby eyed me knowingly, silvery blue strands reminiscent of the moon in the kind noon sunlight. His coral lips, hand painted by mermaids under the sea, lifted in contemplation. "Is this a, 'need to be talked out of it,' situation or a, 'desperately don't want to talk about it,' one?" he enquired again, mild wind fleetingly swaying melodies along the strings of his eyelashes.
"Second one, I think." A laugh emitted itself from my lips, manifesting so naturally whenever I was with Toby. A soft chuckle wafted out from his, as a pearl hand – dry but smooth from years of gripping onto coarse fishing rods – came to rest affectionately on my arm; I'm always here for you.
I know, I silently replied, while bringing my own roughened fingers up to squeeze his, same here.
"Wedding's starting," Toby gestured towards my assigned spot over on the bride's side, "Better go take your place or Luna will start yelling."
I burst out in giggles before hurriedly scrambling over to my position: first in the row, followed by Selena and then Luna. Luke flashed me a bright, electric grin from where he stood, directly opposite me. My heart hummed faintly as I smiled back.
"You ready?" Luke patted his best friend's back, covered in a maroon tux that matched his spiky head of hair.
The bridegroom beamed stupidly, heart seemingly attempting to pound out of his chest in exhilaration. "Never been more ready for anything," he affirmed, returning the brotherly clap on the shoulder before turning to face the meadow's entrance.
The wedding arch was a heaving elaborate entwinement of white and dusky mauve roses, dove wing peonies, vanilla gardenia and glimmering forest berries, laced with crisp grape vines trailing up the pecan oak. All of that breathtaking beauty paled in comparison to Kathy.
Her gown was pure Chantilly cream satin, slinking silkily along her sugar skin, clinging onto her enviable curves and skimming the peridot grass that bowed at the touch of her feet. Her platinum blonde locks tumbled marvelously from her trademark ponytail, lustrous and iridescent in the daylight, which seemed to shine solely for her. A matching ivory pearl necklace and earring set adorned her slender neck and earlobes, sitting perfectly above her elegant collarbones and whispering words of love into her ears: her mother's, the exact same jewelry she had worn on her own wedding day to Hayden.
The beaming father had never looked prouder as he walked Kathy down the petal-strewn isle. She latched onto his burly arm, unbreakable bond clear for everybody to see. Even Hayden had switched his normal bartender getup for a fine suit: ebony for the father of the bride.
Kathy's bouquet comprised of everything our boutonnieres and dissected corsages were meant to harmonize with. At the heart of the thoughtfully arranged spray were, of course, brilliant sunflowers: the complete embodiment of the bride herself. The way Owen's eyes lit up when he saw her, I swore it looked like he held the winning ticket to the billion-dollar lottery. She lit his entire world up, from its innermost core to the luminescent aurora thermosphere. A large, tough hand went to cover his mouth in sheer wonderment, in absolute awe of his wife-to-be. The way Peter Pan stared at Wendy, entranced by her magical, natural charm.
"Congratulations, baby girl," Hayden pressed a kiss to his daughter's luminous cheek, powdered with a sweet fig blush, "Go and have all the happiness in the world." He turned to Owen, bracing himself for the inevitable bestowal of his most precious treasure; the priceless emerald she held in her eyes, "You take care of her, alright?"
"Swear on my life, Sir," the redhead promised in utmost sincerity, eyes glued to Kathy.
"Dad," Hayden corrected, smiling benevolently through his gruff saddle brown beard.
"You look just like your mother," the bartender turned back to his daughter one final time, "I'm sure she's watching from up above. And I'm sure she's crazy proud."
"You're going to make me smudge my make up," Kathy bumbled, bringing gloved fingers up to dab at her highlighted waterline.
"You'd better not," Luna hissed sharply, eliciting laughter from our quivering lips.
"Love you, Dad," Kathy relished in her father's comforting embrace, brawny arms that had held her for twenty-seven years. She stepped towards her rightful place, next to Owen, as Hayden went to take his seat.
"Wow," was all Owen could breathe as he imbibed Kathy's splendour, irrevocably enraptured. "You look –" he paused, struggling to find an adjective worthy of his bride's beauty, both inside and out, "I don't even have any words," he chuckled, true to simplistic Owen form, "I'm never letting you go."
"Good," Kathy gleamed back, unequivocally in love with the man facing her, "Because I don't plan on letting you go either."
We all turned to face Perry, as the ceremony finally commenced. Four years in the making, all leading up to this.
To have and to hold. I turned to catch my best friend's glimmering jade eyes, smiling back at me. My heart swelled with adoration, lips tugging up by instinct whenever it came to him. Selena, Luna and I all clasped manicured hands, twinkling with pride for our dear friend, wishing upon her every ounce of joy the universe had to offer.
From this day forward.
To stand by the one you so ardently cherished, pledging your unwavering, everlasting love, through Heaven and Hell and everything in between. To know that eternity was long, but love was infinite.
My gaze drifted to Luke; stability and safety nets and second place.
To be with the one that made us believe in forever.
Didn't we all deserve that?
"Congratulations!" our cheers rang through the Brass Bar, clinking of our crystal flutes ringing like silver bells through the festive air.
"You're actually married," I stated to Kathy, mind still tangled up in the captivating wedding we had just adjourned from, ending up at the bar for the reception; drinks on Hayden, of course. "One of us is married now. We're getting old," I declared to our table, which consisted of all the village youngsters, if we could still be called that.
"Hey, we've been married for ages now," Anissa chimed sweetly, Jin and her the picture of marital bliss, with their maraschino cherry children and candied apple companionship.
"But you guys have always been old," Maya chipped in cheekily, close enough friends with the mother of three that she could get away with her playful sassiness.
"Speak for yourself," Luna retorted snidely, porcelain nose turning upwards in denial, "I'm still young."
"You're twenty-five this year," Selena scoffed, polished fingers – pointed, filed nails painted deep aubergine – going to cover her smirking lips, "Tick tock. Better make a move on your ice prince before your biological clock runs out."
The lavender-pink head sputtered out her champagne, baby blue eyes widening into steely discs. Her powdered face flushed a fiery shade of chili, as if she could breathe fire and scorch Selena to a brittle crisp. Gill sat three seats down from her, pretending he hadn't heard a word and trying his best to maintain his prim icy façade, but the tomato peppering his cheeks spoke the truth.
"So, after all these years of berating me about not asking Candi out," Julius lamented teasingly, graceful, embellished arm draped over Candace's shoulders, "turns out you're just talk and no action." The lilac-haired man turned to his girlfriend, unadulterated ardour sparkling in his ruby eyes, "Darling, I think it's time for you to be the one pushing your sister on."
"You'd better watch out, bro," Owen jokingly slapped the jeweler on the willowy back; clad in a velvet suit, the shade of seaweed, "You're going to be needing her blessing when you propose."
"And when is that going to be?" Luna challenged, sticking her tongue out in a display of her self-proclaimed youthfulness. Contrary to her assertions, Luna was actually exceedingly mature; her business sense and foresight far surpassed any of ours. When she was thinking, you could hear the logic oiling the gears in her head. However, when it came to matters of the heart, butterflies seemed to get stuck within the metal teeth, bringing the mechanisms to a grinding halt.
"When Gill and you get together," Julius swung back devilishly, earning a doe-like giggle from Candace's angelic lips. He brought her to life, took the mouldy old painting and blew the layer of ashen dust off, revealing her lapis lazuli and Caribbean water glory. And in return, she made him happy. She painted the banana yellow streaks in his pastel locks with sunshine, drew sparkles in his eyes, planted bashful kisses on his grenadine cheeks.
In the stars. I involuntarily gnawed on my lip, struck by a tidal wave of memories about him, the one I should have been with. Not everyone is lucky enough to be with the one they want.
"You alright?" Luke whispered, subtly grabbing hold of my hand. Safe.
He's not you, I silently apologized to Chase, grief and guilt sinking in my lungs like dying anemones. Wherever he was now, rolling out pastries with hands that had seared their touch into my mind, he still had all of my heart, but he's here and you aren't. Something inside of me shattered, a falling star finally smashing against the concrete pavement, breathing its last breath and flickering into nothingness. And maybe it's time to stop hoping for something that's never coming back.
"Yeah," I smiled back at the carpenter, lacing my fingers through his calloused ones, "Are you?"
His feline eyes glanced momentarily over Selena's bickering silhouette, before the exact same thoughts speared through his brain, showing on his expression; crestfallen and acquiescence, in equal measures. "I think I am," he grinned through the wreckage, razor sharp canines appearing from behind lips pulled taut.
That summer day, the bar swirled with merriment, as fairies in the air reveled in the celebration of true love triumphing over all else.
Luke and I clung onto one another in the drowning ocean, turning our heads away from the shore and listening to the celestial bodies die within us.
This was called: settling.
"You head back first," I mouthed inaudibly to Luke, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. The twenty-eight-year-old looked at me in confusion, hand – missing his trusty gloves today, specially pried off just for his best friend's wedding – still resting lightly on my waist. "I'm going to talk to her," I motioned in Selena's direction, heart thumping against my ribcage as I voiced the words out loud. Ever since Luke and I had started dating, or started becoming friends, for that matter, I hadn't spoken to Selena to ask whether it was all okay with her. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was avoiding me. "Give Heath a big kiss for me," I nodded to Luke.
"Good luck," he offered in hushed tones, before leaving the love of his life and me in the soundless room.
I supposed we hadn't wanted to acknowledge it with Selena, because once we did, things were final. This was the final nail in the coffin, hammering all of Luke's hopes into the pale teak wood, raising a white flag and waving it in the air: you're never going to love me back, I get it now.
"Sel," I called out, notes quavering as they stumbled into existence, falling on shaky footing.
"Hm?" the magenta-haired tropical beauty didn't bother to turn from her sweeping, having reluctantly volunteered to shoulder the burden of cleaning duties since it was Kathy's wedding night. "What, lover boy had to leave to take care of the kid?" Perilous toxic mingled in her grating tones.
I kicked a nervous foot into the smooth floorboards, heart threatening to leap out of my throat. "About that," I gnawed on my inner cheek, tasting the strawberry and bubbly residue, "I wanted to talk to you."
"About?" she drawled expectantly, the strict disciplinary master that berated you for staying silent.
"I can't help but feel that maybe things have gotten weird," I mumbled, wringing apprehensive fingers together, "Like, maybe you're not okay with all of this."
The dancer immediately whipped her head around, glaring sharply at me. Silken locks belted against her bronzed cheeks, mascaraed eyelashes lifting in her menacing scowl. "I couldn't care less about your love life, honey," she spat, honey sounding more like knives coated in syrup. I had obviously taken a needle and spliced a particularly sensitive nerve: I'm Selena, nothing gets under my skin.
"See, this is what I'm talking about," I pressed on, unafraid of her sandpaper ways. Obviously, I had been on the receiving end of the graveled sheet today. "You've never been one to hold back, so if you're pissed, please just come out and say it. I can take it, I promise."
The bombshell stared me down for what felt like hours, pearlescent purple eyes scanning over my pleading body. Finally, her harsh edges watered away into puddles on the ground, revealing the Selena I knew and loved. "Jesús," she lapsed into her native tongue, "When you stand there like a defenceless little puppy, you look just like him."
I had always assumed that Luke had been the one giving all of the affection, and never receiving half as much back. Precipitously, it dawned on me: Selena's feelings for him might have ran deeper than I thought. Stepping on a seemingly harmless crack in the mines and falling for twenty floors, opening your eyes to engulfing darkness and just being glad that you were still alive.
"Sel," I dared to venture, going to sit on a table a few feet away from where she stood, sweeping metallic confetti off the stairs, "Did you love him?"
She scoffed, letting out a short, unattractive spitting sound through tinged teeth. "Who said anything about love?" she let the sullied word drip onto the ground, blackened saliva varnishing her disgust.
I shook my head, incapable of understanding how she could embark on an unsolicited, hour-long tirade at the drop of a hat, but chose to clam up whenever it came to Luke and her's abrupt end.
"Because, if you did – if you still do – just say the word," I placed the plated offer before her warily, rapidly withdrawing my fingers before she bared her sharpened fangs and bit my hand off. "I mean, it's not like Luke and I are madly in love or anything. Not even close. And I'm sure if he knew that you feel so much as a shred of what he feels towards you, we wouldn't be together for a second longer."
The twenty-eight-year-old pressed a yellow-tinted incisor into her waxy bottom lip, plum and toffee mingling in her creamy lipstick. "I don't believe in love," she spouted back, chin jutting out in her trademark obstinacy.
"Why not?"
Her mystical mulberry eyes glazed over, a sepia film cloaking the downcast pupils; her impenetrable walls crumbling for the most transitory second. One blink, and you would have missed it. "All the men I've ever met have always wanted to lay me down, but no one has ever wanted to pick me up." In that moment, Selena's sensual exquisiteness became her downfall; morphing into a toy for customers to watch and salivate over, dream of planting hungry kisses into her bared, marshmallow midriff. Fantasize about running nicotine-stained fingers through her tumbling locks.
"Luke's not like that," I volunteered, speedily beginning to understand: Selena was afraid.
"They're all like that," she rolled her incensed eyes, revealing the familiar white of her eyeballs, "and besides, everything crashes and burns in the end. That may not be true for some people, but it's true for me." The flames in her eyes licked her spidery lashes, sparking in the middle of a forest and leaving it in sooty ashes. "And I don't intend on bringing him down with me." She swept up the last of the rainbow-hued streamers, strewn across the sticky floor. "Anyway," she started, lithely flipping her caressing mahogany fringe behind an ear, dressed with rhythmically swaying golden hoops, "I don't need a man in my life. I'm happier by myself."
That was true. Selena never needed anybody; she was a fire that ran on her own carbon dioxide, endlessly blazing. She loved herself fiercely. Intensely. If you were in her life, it was because she had chosen you.
But the way she spoke about Luke; I'd never heard her speak so tenderly and fondly about somebody before. Prayers for his protection rolled off her tongue when she uttered his name. Temples sprouted from her mouth and chanted invocations for his eternal happiness and safety.
"We're not talking about this anymore," she interjected, waving her fingers dismissively through the vulnerable air. "Bottom line is: Luke and I are never getting back together, so do what you want. I'm not your madre," she flicked her fluid wrist, slowly cracking an indistinct but meaningful smile. In Selena-speak, that meant: you have my blessing.
She sat on a throne of lies. The dishonesties coiled up her olive skin and furled fingers around her suffocating heart.
"So, we're okay?" I confirmed nevertheless, inching closer towards her.
"Yes, moron," her eyeballs rotated in their sockets once again, "Do I look like some kind of el loco who would let a boy come between us?" She sighed exasperatedly, dropping her broom and coming to twist an affectionate fist into my disheveled hairdo. "Honestly, sometimes it's like you forget that you're all sisters to me." A sultry titter fell from her smiling lips, still resting her fleshy arm on my shoulders.
"I'm pretty lucky to have a sister like you," I declared candidly, resting my weight against her.
"Sí, you are," she boasted jestingly, before softening her voice. "Make him happy, okay?" she barely whispered, eyes purposefully darting away from me, "He deserves more than I ever gave him."
Love me a little. I adore you.
Later that year, I would come to learn about just how limitless the forms of love were.
Sometimes, it came in the chiseled silhouette of Prince Charming, riding on his majestic white horse, here to find the princess who had bewitched him with her eggshell blue ball gown and mysterious glass slipper.
Others, it appeared in heated arguments that fell into comfortable bickering, which eventually fell into each other.
And in this case, it came in the shape of a girl who was so extraordinarily terrified of getting hurt, she would sooner let her entire soul corrode into regret and rust than admit: her heart could hemorrhage from how agonizingly in love she was.
The dead of night coiled its melancholy talons around me, skipping silent pebbles across my toes as they traversed Luke's bedroom floor. The hallowed moon pressed her fluttery lashes together as she recited devotions to the night sky abyss, hoping for what she knew was unattainable: may we end up together, the sun and I.
I slipped into Luke's bed, ever so slightly pressing my shoulder against his dozing form – that was how it always was; lithe, light, limp. Always fingertips, never whole hearts.
"How'd it go?" the carpenter barely dared to mumble out, pulse ricocheting off the ash walls.
Selena's eyes – blanket-soft mauve when she spoke about Luke – flickered through my mind; the slight upturn of her pursed lips as confessions of undeclared love tiptoed across her tongue.
"She might love you back," I blurted out, pausing as the world precipitously dangled from a fraying thread.
Neither of us had the courage to exhale – even the earth kept her trachea slammed shut.
"Molly, don't do this to me." Jackhammers pounded away at Luke's wavering words, gravel and shiny shrapnel being tossed up into the numb air.
"If she does?"
Go back to her. Sprint. On all fours. You have my sincere permission.
I would do the same.
Silence at three in the morning had a habit of making you feel as if the ground beneath you was crumbling, as if it could dissipate at any moment and engulf you entirely.
If Luke had picked another option, did what he really wanted, instead of nailing his palms to Heath and me and crucifying himself to obligation, the trajectories of our lives may have been much different.
But instead, he said this, and the grey iron bars slammed down on the path, leaving us with only one route to take.
"Second choice or not, we've still made ours, right?" he finally breathed, every fibre of his words tainted with remorse.
I'm staying.
Our hands latched onto one another's, eyes pursed shut as we plunged into the icy waters, landing on the shaking safety net underneath.