Save the Date
it's not like the movies
It’s not uncommon for Avery Jenkins to find herself speechless––as a matter of fact, it’s just the way she’s functioned for the past few months. But, in this particular moment, Avery Jenkins is more than speechless––she’s absolutely astounded. Aghast, really.
“Avery?”
The voice is distant, but familiar nonetheless. She can’t ignore it, and forces herself back into reality—her eyes burn as she blinks away uncertainty and focuses on him.
“Avery?” he asks again, a smile growing with each syllable of her name. She studies his face, avoiding his deep blue eyes. His skin is smooth and even, and his fair hair frizzy. His jaw is square, giving his face a masculine line.
“Scott,” she breathes. She notices the people around them, staring.
His smile grows wider. “I know it hasn’t been very long, but I want this right now. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he seems to be repeating his previous speech, which makes Avery dizzy. “Marry me, Avery.”
“Marry me, Avery Jenkins,” he said, “Make me the happiest man alive…” She can hear the words echoing in her mind, and fights the reminiscing feeling.
“I…” her teeth dig into her bottom lip. She knows what she wants to say, and yet, she can’t seem to say it. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
He slides the ring onto her shaking finger, and she stares. She’s stiff when he kisses her, and jumps in surprise when he wipes her tears away. She didn’t know she’d been crying, and brings her own hand to her face. “I love you, Avery,” Scott says.
“I know,” she whispers as he kisses her head. “I know.”
✗ ✗ ✗
When Avery arrives back at her apartment, it’s the early hours of the morning. The rooms are dark and feel empty, even when she illuminates her kitchen. She takes a seat at the counter, cradling her head in her hands and taking a few deep breaths. She’s overwhelmed and panicky, unsure of whom to talk with or what she’d even say—she was engaged now. She has to tell her family and her friends and plan an entire wedding with her groom to be. She’s going to spend the rest of her life as Mrs. Scott McHale.
She reaches out for her telephone, suddenly annoyed when her new ring gets caught in her hair. She fights it, removing it and placing it on the countertop as she dials each number. It’s 2 A.M., but Sydney answers because Avery knows she’s still awake. “It’s two in the morning,” Sydney says like Avery doesn’t know. “Can this wait until the morning?”
Avery and the ring stare at each other, “I’m engaged.”
That’s all she needs to say before Sydney is all ears, “Oh my God.”
“I’ve known him for eighteen months,” she continues, “And now I’m… going to marry him…” she puts her face in her palms, waiting for Sydney’s words of wisdom.
“How do you feel about all of this?” Leave it to Sydney, who put herself through psychology for 6 years. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Avery breathed loudly, “I don’t know. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know.” That was all she could manage to say, because that was all she could feel—uncertain. Suddenly overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions, she begins to cry. Although incoherent to the untrained ear, Sydney understands exactly what her best friend is saying. “I love him, I really do,” she defends, “And I want to be with him! But I just feel so confused.”
“Well, I think—”
“I’m twenty-four, and he’s twenty-six—is that too young? I think I’m just stressed out and caught off my guard.”
“Avery, I—”
“Thank you, Sid,” Avery says. She wipes her eyes and stands up straight, heading to her lonely bedroom. “You always know what to say.” Sydney sighs and they hang up.
Avery is slow in preparing for bed, hoping to tire herself more so she’ll fall easily asleep. She washes her face thoroughly, staring at her silvery reflection in the mirror. Her fingers grip the edge of the counter as a pain roots deeply into her shoulders—it’s similar to a pain she’d experienced in college, known fondly as stress. She inwardly sighs and focuses on her breathing while she waits for it to pass. When it does, she rubs her neck softly and closes her eyes.
She slides into her cold bed, fantasizing about oncoming conversations about her engagement and wedding ideas. She slides into a tranquil, dreamless slumber, escaping from reality for a few hours.
“Avery?”
The voice is distant, but familiar nonetheless. She can’t ignore it, and forces herself back into reality—her eyes burn as she blinks away uncertainty and focuses on him.
“Avery?” he asks again, a smile growing with each syllable of her name. She studies his face, avoiding his deep blue eyes. His skin is smooth and even, and his fair hair frizzy. His jaw is square, giving his face a masculine line.
“Scott,” she breathes. She notices the people around them, staring.
His smile grows wider. “I know it hasn’t been very long, but I want this right now. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he seems to be repeating his previous speech, which makes Avery dizzy. “Marry me, Avery.”
“Marry me, Avery Jenkins,” he said, “Make me the happiest man alive…” She can hear the words echoing in her mind, and fights the reminiscing feeling.
“I…” her teeth dig into her bottom lip. She knows what she wants to say, and yet, she can’t seem to say it. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
He slides the ring onto her shaking finger, and she stares. She’s stiff when he kisses her, and jumps in surprise when he wipes her tears away. She didn’t know she’d been crying, and brings her own hand to her face. “I love you, Avery,” Scott says.
“I know,” she whispers as he kisses her head. “I know.”
✗ ✗ ✗
When Avery arrives back at her apartment, it’s the early hours of the morning. The rooms are dark and feel empty, even when she illuminates her kitchen. She takes a seat at the counter, cradling her head in her hands and taking a few deep breaths. She’s overwhelmed and panicky, unsure of whom to talk with or what she’d even say—she was engaged now. She has to tell her family and her friends and plan an entire wedding with her groom to be. She’s going to spend the rest of her life as Mrs. Scott McHale.
She reaches out for her telephone, suddenly annoyed when her new ring gets caught in her hair. She fights it, removing it and placing it on the countertop as she dials each number. It’s 2 A.M., but Sydney answers because Avery knows she’s still awake. “It’s two in the morning,” Sydney says like Avery doesn’t know. “Can this wait until the morning?”
Avery and the ring stare at each other, “I’m engaged.”
That’s all she needs to say before Sydney is all ears, “Oh my God.”
“I’ve known him for eighteen months,” she continues, “And now I’m… going to marry him…” she puts her face in her palms, waiting for Sydney’s words of wisdom.
“How do you feel about all of this?” Leave it to Sydney, who put herself through psychology for 6 years. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Avery breathed loudly, “I don’t know. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know.” That was all she could manage to say, because that was all she could feel—uncertain. Suddenly overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions, she begins to cry. Although incoherent to the untrained ear, Sydney understands exactly what her best friend is saying. “I love him, I really do,” she defends, “And I want to be with him! But I just feel so confused.”
“Well, I think—”
“I’m twenty-four, and he’s twenty-six—is that too young? I think I’m just stressed out and caught off my guard.”
“Avery, I—”
“Thank you, Sid,” Avery says. She wipes her eyes and stands up straight, heading to her lonely bedroom. “You always know what to say.” Sydney sighs and they hang up.
Avery is slow in preparing for bed, hoping to tire herself more so she’ll fall easily asleep. She washes her face thoroughly, staring at her silvery reflection in the mirror. Her fingers grip the edge of the counter as a pain roots deeply into her shoulders—it’s similar to a pain she’d experienced in college, known fondly as stress. She inwardly sighs and focuses on her breathing while she waits for it to pass. When it does, she rubs her neck softly and closes her eyes.
She slides into her cold bed, fantasizing about oncoming conversations about her engagement and wedding ideas. She slides into a tranquil, dreamless slumber, escaping from reality for a few hours.