Answering Machine

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror in front of me, letting my hands travel delicately over the billows of white fabric beneath my fingers. I wanted to pinch myself; I wanted to make sure this was really happening. For most of my life, growing up, just like any average girl, I had dreamed of this day. I had imagined the church, the flowers, the music, the dress, and the ceremony, but I had never quite managed to picture the man who would be standing at the altar, waiting for me.

But I finally knew who he was now, and that made it all the more impossible to believe.

If someone had told me, or even suggested to me, at the ripe age of thirteen, that in about ten years’ time, I would be marrying my best friend, I more than likely would have laughed in their face. Today, however, if someone were to tell me that I wouldn’t be marrying my best friend, I may very well have done just the same.

Towards the end of our years in high school, I feared crossing the best friend line with John because surely there couldn’t have been anything worse than losing him due to an awkward display of my true feelings. I even worried that, had he, by some miraculous force of nature, felt the same way towards me, things would be ruined somewhere down the road in our futures.

But everything worked in our favors. Everything was perfect.

“Lindsay?”

I whirled around to see my mother standing a few feet behind me, beaming delightedly. I smiled and let my hands fall to my sides, feeling the butterflies begin to pick up in my empty stomach.

“My little baby’s all grown up,” she sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with the Kleenex that was in one of her hands. “She’s all grown up and beautiful and marrying the boy next door.”
My smile simply grew as I approached her, pulling her into a delicate hug as I tried my very best not to wrinkle or otherwise ruin my dress.

“I love you, Mom,” I told her. “I’ll always be your little girl, I promise.”

“I know, sweetie,” she responded with a small laugh. “I love you, too. And I am so, so happy for you and John. You know that, right?”

“You would have held a protest if I married anyone but John,” I joked, although we both knew there was a slight bit of truth in the statement.

“Well, let’s just say I have a way of knowing how things are going to end up,” she laughed, her eyes twinkling as she gave me a wink.

“I’m glad you were right about this one,” I told her, giving her one last, quick hug before there was a knock at the door, and Sarah’s voice came from the other side, urging me to hurry up and make my appearance.

Barely ten minutes later, I found myself waiting anxiously outside the large, oak doors that separated the small entrance from the church. Next to me, my dad smiled warmly and gave my hand a small, comforting squeeze before linking his arm with mine.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told me as I watched the ushers signal that they were about to open the doors. I took a deep breath and clutched the bouquet of flowers in my hand.

“I’m not nervous,” I half-lied. “I’m just… anxious.”

“You know,” he began, glancing at me with a knowing look in his eyes as the ushers began to sweep the giant doors open, “John really loves you.”

“Oh yeah?” I murmured with a chuckle, feeling my nerves begin to fade, despite the doors in front of me that were opening much too slowly. “And what makes you the expert on that?”

“Well,” he started, as the doors were practically halfway open, “he is marrying you, isn’t he?”

I nodded, feeling my heart rate begin to quicken.

“And secondly,” he continued, “I know for a fact that John loves you, because he looks at you the same exact way I look at your mother.”

I had just enough time to smile sincerely at my father before the doors were finally open and we had begun stepping slowly forward. My eyes wandered first around the gathered mass of people that filled the pews lining the aisle, before my gaze landed directly on John.

It took all of the muscles and will power in my body not to sprint the last few yards of the aisle as my heart pounded and my stomach did somersaults at the sight of him standing on the altar, waiting for me. Every inch of me was burning to be there, standing next to him, holding his hand, telling him I loved him.

When that moment finally did come, my dad beamed, kissing my cheek and telling me how much he loved me, before turning to his seat next to my mother.

“Hi,” John whispered under his breath as he took my hands in his, grinning sheepishly. Every nerve in my body dissolved, and all I could feel was the beating of my heart.

“Hi,” I breathed back with a smile, just before the priest began to speak. I couldn’t even begin to explain how I felt as we stood there, grinning, hand in hand, repeating our vows to each other. John’s eyes were bright and shining as he looked at me, and out of the corner of my own eyes I could see both sets of our parents beaming happily and proudly.

Somewhere amidst hearing myself utter the words, “I do,” sliding the wedding bands on each other’s ring fingers, and the priest proclaiming that we were “now husband and wife,” I could practically feel my heart explode. And just like that, John was smiling his ever-enticing crooked smile, the one that, even after all of these years, made my heart pound and my knees go weak, before cupping my face in his hands and pressing his lips gently to mine. I kissed him back as if it was a knee-jerk reaction, forgetting just for a brief moment about the mass of people sharing this moment with us.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips as we parted just the slightest bit. The same unnerving smirk still danced across his face as he responded.

“I love you, too, Lindsay O’Callaghan.”