[Ugh.
There are some moments that you should just never capture on film. How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways:
1) You will constantly over-analyze everything you said and did, including your choice of cosplay because the great coat of Gondor doesn't have very flattering lines [and you kick yourself mentally for all time for not having had the brains to go as Brienne of Tarth],
2) Almost invariably the camera Elf will turn out to be a trans-dimensional space/time traveler(?) from another world/pre-history of our own/fictional universe (?) who won't be worth shit, and
3) it can be used against you in a court of law.
But given what happened afterwards, we're both still so glad I did.]
"Well, I'm back," I said.
Prerna blinked, still smiling, completely oblivious. Not a Ringer. Definitely not a Ringer. But after all of Samwise Gamgee's great adventures out there in the wide world there must have been many moments like this, where the love of his life just didn't understand. And—let's admit it—Rosie Cotton was a fucking champ for putting up with him after he ditched her for a year without warning.
I put an arm around her small shoulders. "Smile for the camera!"
"Ugh," she leaned into me with that awkward look on her face she always has when threatened with any sort of recording equipment. "I've been smiling all day."
"Just pretend you're having fun," I said out of the corner of my mouth.
"I've been doing that all day, too," she whined with a playful roll of her eyes.
I smiled. Tried not to lose my cool, but the hand on her shoulder was still shaking.
"And thanks. You know. You've been a doing a pretty good job acting like this doesn't suck. Because seriously, this has to have been one of the best days of my life."
She flushed and ducked her head. "Well, you know. It's something important to you. I don't get it, but I'm still happy for you, and I guess I'm happy you invited me even if it's really, really boring..."
"So would you come back with me?" I wheedled, one arm around her, the fingers of the other hand clutching the ring, and I couldn't quite shake the horrible, nagging fear I'd drop the stupid thing...or the urge to vom. Just a bit. "Every year? Because it wouldn't be as much fun without you."
"Eaurgh, Ida…" she groaned, and looked up at me with pathetic puppy eyes from the world's, derpiest, most adorable face ever. From this angle she was all dimples and bright sclera lost in a mess of auburn hair.
I took a deep breath and pulled out the ring. Prerna only cocked her head, confused.
I knelt. Realization dawned. Her soft hands just sort of drifted up to her face and stayed there. Her dark eyes were unblinking, just staring, staring right at me.
"Ohmygod…" she whispered.
People stopped. Elbows and fingers shushed friends and family. Around us, the hall went silent.
"So…" my voice choked up and I rolled my eyes, but the tears kept coming anyways. And I'd wanted to be so cool, damnit!
[Crying Gondorian with an engagement ring. Definitely cool.]
"Prerna Prashad, I know it's antiquated and old fashioned and probably anthropologically speaking pretty stupid and oblivion comes for us all in the end anyways but for lack of a better term or until one's invented and because I can't think of a more superlative way to say I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you," I said in one long rush, "will you please marry me?"
Her hands were still clasped over her mouth and tears were pouring down her face. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She didn't fucking breathe.
"Say something?" I sniffed after a long moment as all of Comic Con seemed to converge around us with bated breath. It needed a week's answer, Sam thought, or none….
"Ohmygod…" she said again. Then she kissed me.
I wish I could say it was the best kiss ever, that her lips tasted sweet or her breath was like honey or some other sort of shit you always read in terrible romance stories where no one ever has pubic hair, body odor or halitosis. But the truth is her lips were a little bit dry and tasted soapy like lipstick and I nearly choked on the powery talc of her foundation and her breath stunk of that awful vegan chili con carne that we'd had for lunch and there was a lot of really thick, slick, moist snot and tears involved…
My knees were sore and the floor was hard and the angle was all wrong and my neck was twisted, but you know what? Fuck it. It was the best kiss ever.
There were people clapping and stamping and cheering all around us and for the first time in our short lives together we could really kiss in public and not feel awkward, embarrassed, or ashamed. We were just two girls kissing because we were happy and in love and about to get married. So thank God or Eru or the fucking Flying Spaghetti Monster for nerds and Comic Con where crying, cosplaying, interracial lesbian couples making out isn't even the weirdest thing you see all day and even then is NBD. Are Bronies kinda creepy? Yeah. But they're a bunch of dudes (and chicks) who just want to spread the message that you love what you love, don't judge. Whether it's someone of the same sex, opposite sex, or a television show about brightly colored ponies named Apple Jack or Rainbow Dash*, it doesn't matter, and we should all be free to express our likes and passions and hobbies without fear of being ostracized or damned.
We were giddy and dizzy when we finally broke apart, and when I opened my eyes again we were surrounded complete strangers cheering, taking pictures, who were all laughing—even crying—with us.
"So was that a yes," I asked her as I stood, "or were you just letting me down gently—"
Prerna put her face in her hands again, flushing red, laughing and crying and smiling and shaking her head at her own stupidity. She was way too flustered and excited to actually say* anything coherent, but she held out her hand and sobbed as I slid the Silmaril ring on her finger. Eighteen carats of filigree rose gold and white platinum in two lacy, entwining trees and a simple, unfaceted moonstone. It took on a gorgeous, summery hue from the undertones of her brown skin, and looked absolutely goddamned beautiful.
I was just so goddamned happy. All my adult life I'd wanted to save a Silmaril, and marry a Luthien. I didn't have high expectations or ridiculous standards or a pipedream fantasy of a picture perfect future together, I knew there'd be ups and downs and bad days and sad days and days when we just drove each other fucking crazy. But I just wanted to live, love, laugh, cry, scream and settle down and live happily ever after to the end of our days. If there'd been a dark lord there at that moment, he wouldn't've stood a chance.
I didn't know what to say, how to tell her just how much she meant to me, how much I'd wanted her, how long I looked for a someone like her to share my life with but Prerna was looking up at me expectantly so I had to say something. My face had gone hot and my throat was all achey. "I love you," I finally choked, wiping snot down the back of my bracers.
That gapped smile grew between her wavering lips, awkward and sweet and witty all at once. Then she said those two words that every girl has always secretly, desperately wanted—no, needed—to hear at least once in her life in order to feel completely alive and whole and necessary in the universe:
"I know."
[Prerna, sweetie, shut up. You had me at Han Solo.]
*I uh, I don't have a favorite pony 'cause I don't watch that show, and I don't have a favorite pony 'cause I'm thirty-one years old. Hank Green?
Really?
Someone?
Anyone?
…Bueller? Don't tell me I'm the only nerdfighter on here!
[And for all you Bronies out there, I'm just fucking with you: I like Spike.]
*To boldly split infinitives where Gene Roddenberry has before. Suck it, Henry Alford!
