Authors: Alice Severin
He finally looked up over my head. “Trevor. How are you?” Then he turned back to me.
“Lily. I just need to handle something here with Trevor. I’ll see you inside, all
right?” And he and Trevor exchanged a look which seemed significant, but unreadable.
Trevor took my arm, gently but firmly. “I’ll be right back, Tristan. Let me just escort
Lily back over the grass.” He was silent, and I began to feel uneasy.
“Is everything ok?”
Trevor nodded. “Not to worry. Just need to sort something out.” He kissed my hand
quickly, and covered the ground back to Tristan in a quarter of the time. I watched
him go. Then he turned and saw me watching, and waved me on.
My stomach felt even more hollow now, and I entered the church alone. I took an order
of service from one of the ushers, and was guided to a seat in the third row. I surveyed
the empty place next to me. Then I followed the light from the stained glass and examined
the altar. The mysteries of life. The power of ritual. I wasn’t immune. I looked up
at the large window looming over the sanctuary. And I said a prayer, silently asking
for the support to guide me through whatever was going to happen next. I shut my eyes
and swallowed, and took a deep breath. I needed to calm down. Now.
Shaking my head, and fixing a smile to my face, I began inspecting the crowd. Sarah
had a large family, but I’d really only met her mother a few times. I didn’t see her
anywhere yet. She was probably arriving with Sarah, fussing over the dress. There
was Nick, standing next to his father, waiting at the back. Everyone was nearly seated,
and the doors began to close, to give the bride privacy for her entrance. Trevor and
Tristan hurried through them just before they shut. Trevor had his hand on Tristan’s
shoulder, a serious look on his face. Then he nodded, and they separated, Trevor to
his seat. Tristan was guided by a slightly star-struck usher to his place next to
me.
“All right?” I asked.
He nodded. “All sorted. Not to worry.”
Then the service started. Nick and his father walked up the aisle, and stood at the
altar, both looking very serious and dignified. Then the doors opened, the wedding
march began, and Sarah entered. Everyone murmured their appreciation. Her dress was
very full, the skirt billowing out with each step, her tiny waist cinched in, lace
and satin, delicate, molded to her body. She looked stunning. I glanced over at Nick.
He had that smile on his face, halfway between admiration and panic. But Sarah made
it to the front, and Nick gazed down at her, a genuine warmth suffusing his usually
distant features. I was glad. This was how it was supposed to be. If you were going
to do this sort of thing. Love. There it was.
The vicar led us all in a hymn. Tristan’s warm voice going over the old words and
notes. I didn’t know why I was surprised, almost shocked, that he seemed to know it.
I glanced up at him. He fit everywhere, he fit nowhere, special, transcending boundaries.
It struck me that that’s what he did—he pulled the spiritual out of moments and made
it real, so you could see it, touch it. His special skill, his calling.
He saw me looking at him, and smiled. “Piano lessons at church school, singing in
the choir.” He closed the hymnal and put it back on the shelf under the seats of the
polished wooden pew.
We sat and listened to the vicar’s sermon, stood for another hymn, and finally the
vows began. They were just reading the two stanzas from the poems they had chosen
to represent their promise to each other, when I felt a hand reach for mine. I tried
to grasp back, but I felt his fingers move mine apart, and grasp them at the base.
Then I felt a cool, smooth band of metal slip on to my finger, and slide down. Before
I could do anything, another one was placed between my thumb and forefinger, and I
held on, almost about to drop it. I looked up at Tristan. He was facing the ceremony,
as though nothing was happening. I looked down. His hand was across his body, resting
on his other arm, waiting. I picked up his finger.
“That’s it,” he whispered.
I slipped the ring on to his finger until it was seated. And stared at the band of
silver colored metal for a moment. Platinum. Then I looked up and around. Everyone’s
eyes were on the bride and groom at the front.
“Will you?” Tristan whispered, just after the vicar had asked the same question of
the bride at the altar. “Say yes, Lily.”
“Yes.” I gazed up at him.
Tristan watched me, his eyes full of expression. “Ask me.”
“Will you?” My voice trembled.
He leaned down to kiss me, gently. “Yes,” he whispered into my mouth, as the crowd
cheered the pronouncement of husband and wife.
I felt the tears start, hot and unexpected. He grasped my hand tightly. Skin. And
then his eyes were wet. “I know.”
A voice came from behind us. “Shh. There’s a wedding going on.”
* * *
The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. The only thing I could focus on was Tristan’s
warm hand, wrapped tightly around mine, as if I were a balloon that might get snatched
away by a sudden breeze. Then it was over, and we were outside, in the grey cool air
of a British late summer’s day, waiting for rain, and the emergence of the wedding
party. Tristan was still holding my hand. I couldn’t look at him. Not yet. I just
held on.
Sarah and Nick finally came out, to great cheers and handfuls of bird seed and confetti.
She looked beautiful and slightly stunned, and Nick seemed to embody all the qualities
of settled masculinity, with a quiet, happy look around his eyes that spoke of the
gladness of a house finally complete, a chase successfully concluded, a desire fulfilled.
They waved to the small crowd, and they did look apart from everyone else, the trappings
of the ritual hanging heavy on them, and giving them both the weighted presence of
royalty. They moved through the crowd, carefully, one of the flower girls holding
on to the small train as though she had been entrusted with the movement of the planets.
When it was finally time for her to relinquish it, she turned to her mother, shaking
with overwrought tears. The car pulled away over the small gravel forecourt and out
on to the road, honking, tin cans crashing merrily on the pavement. The guests started
filing towards their own cars, in order to head to the reception.
Tristan turned to me, and pulled me by the hand around the corner of the church, and
stopped under one of the yew trees. “You followed your dream, Lily. You didn’t know
where it would lead you, but you listened—and you didn’t give up. Somewhere along
the road, you found me. I wouldn’t presume to think that I’m your entire dream—but
will you share with me?” He fell with a graceful swoop on one knee, extending an arm
to the skies and out, to encompass everything.
I sank to my knees, careless of my dress, of anything else but Tristan. He wrapped
his arms around me, as I rested my head in the crook of his neck. “Yes.”
The End