Two Weeks From the Wedding

It’s times like this that I can’t help but remember the day Mike and I got engaged.

We were fifteen years old. I’d just been rejected by probably the ten thousandth girl I’d ever asked out. And at that point, it was getting a little old. Well, I say a little. I was pretty depressed. I wouldn’t talk to my mom, my sisters, anyone. Except Mike.

He’d tap on my bedroom window, and I would always put my notebook down, or put my guitar down, and open it for him. It was only Mike, after all. Mike never judged me for anything. He was the one who understood.

“What’s wrong?” he’d always ask. I always told him nothing, and he always said nothing after. He didn’t question more. He just let me not talk about it.

So one day, I decided to say it.

I told him how I felt useless. How no girl ever wanted to date me. How nobody really liked me, because I was weird.

And he said, “Well I like you, Billie. You’re my best friend.”

For some reason, that was just right. I removed my arms from around my legs and wrapped them around my best friend. He hugged right back, and I closed my eyes to keep the tears from coming out.

“Hey, hey... it’s okay, Billie. I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually.”

“Yeah, right. No one would want to be with me.”

“How about me? Come on, say yes and I’ll start planning the wedding now. Two weeks and it’ll happen.”

I knew it was a joke. Of course it was a joke. But it always seemed so real to me. I let out a weak laugh. “Okay.”

At least it made me feel better.

Since then, we’ve always been two weeks from our wedding. Any time I’m down. “Hey, cheer up, Billie. We’re getting married in two weeks.” It always makes me smile.

My cat died. “Well, in two weeks, everything will be just fine. Let’s go find some rings.”

My wife left me. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be your new wife in a couple of weeks.”

And then there’s today. Losing my job. Again. Right after losing a girlfriend. Again. Why is everything falling apart? Why can’t something work out for once?

I hear a knock at the door and wipe my eyes, hoping they’re not red and puffy now. “Who is it?” I call out.

“It’s Mike.” I get up immediately, hurrying to the door. My comfort, my salvation stood on the other side, the one who had always been there for me. Mike. I immediately melted into him in a hug. “Hey, Billie... what’s wrong?”

“Fucking everything,” I mutter. I feel his head nodding next to mine, his hand rubbing my back gently.

“Let’s sit down,” he says quietly into my ear. I nod and reluctantly pull away. I would probably do anything he wanted me to at this point. I make my way to the sofa as he closes the door and sits next to me. My arms are around my knees again, my head dipped down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” I feel his hand on my back again, rubbing softly. I feel like he’s coaxing me closer. Like he’s gently telling me to open up to him, to trust him. I do. “Just... lost another fucking job. Already behind on the rent... I’m so useless.”

“You’re not useless, Billie.”

“If I wasn’t useless, I could hold a job... or a relationship. I’m such a fuck-up.”

“Well I think you’re the best person I know. Anyone would be lucky to be with you. Don’t stress about it.” He said the right thing again. Every word, perfect, enough to make me wrap my arms around him again and be engulfed in turn by his. “Besides...” he says a bit quieter. “I think I love you enough to make up for the rest of the world being assholes. That’s why I’m marrying you.”

That makes me smile. I tilt my head up to stare into his tranquil eyes. “You mean it?”

His hand runs smoothly through my hair. “Of course.”

I kiss him. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I feel like I need to. And this wonderful man who has always been there for me, has always protected me and cared for me, he kisses me back. “I love you too,” I tell him.

And he smiles.