Lacrimo Crystallinus

Staring into the pastel-colored vanity, I smooth the dress for the thousandth time. It is perfect. Pristine, pure, and cut perfectly to fit just snugly enough to accent my body, but loose enough not to restrict my movement. I glance down at the engagement ring sitting on my finger, feeling my heart already racing. I’m supposed to be ready in twenty minutes, but I still don’t have my shoes on or my hair done and I’m waiting on the bridesmaids for the veil. I know I should be doing something to get myself ready, but it’s entirely too tempting to let my mind wander to what my groom will look like. I never imagined myself in this part. Only the engagement part. I feel unable to move, but with infinite possibilities lying before me. I feel like flying.

Melody bursts through the door, her dress tossed over her arm. She looks the same as she did in high school: hair straightened and in a short bob cut, a purple hoodie on, and some skinny jeans over Converse. I hug her before she can tell me not to. “I missed you too,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. She pulls away, giving me stink eye. “You never call! Only Face Book!”

“I know,” I say, “but international calls are so expensive.”

“It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is this… you! You look so wonderful. And I never thought I’d be a bridesmaid.” She hugs me again. “But seriously, I’m running late and we totally need to get down to business. Sit down, get cozy, and let me curl your hair.” I comply, watching her in the mirror. She moves in a different way than before… is it… confidence? I smile hugely.

“Melody, you’re so… different. You’re the same, but your self esteem… Did you find someone while I was gone, and never tell me!?” I demand.

She blushes. “Well, yeah… kind of… but it’s still new, so who’s to say it won’t go to Hell, huh?” Even though she says it, she seems optimistic about it. “He’s here today, but he said he had something to do real quick so we couldn’t come together.”

“What’s his name? What’s he like? Tell me everything!”

She laughs and releases one of the curls. It bounces as if out of a cartoon. “He’s Japanese, actually. He’s older than I am, but not creepy old.” I laugh, and point at myself. She winces. “Oh yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, though. Um… he’s a musician, too.”

“Are you sure you aren’t dating my fiancée?” I ask with a smile. She smiles too and shakes her head violently.

“Oh no, he’s a lot different from Gackt. Oh uh, I mean Satoru. I guess I should call him that from now on, shouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door frame. I call for them to come in. It’s someone I recognize. “Suzumura!” I call at the same time as Melody. We look at each other for a moment. Then we say at the same time, “You know Suzumura?” We dissolve into laughter.

“How do you know each other?” Melody asks, still smiling.

“I’m a groomsman for Satoru,” Suzumura answers half awkwardly. “And Bao, I'm… dating Melody.” He blushes, and whispers something to Melody, who blushes too, and nods. “Sorry to bother you, ladies. I’ll leave you now.”

Melody goes back to doing my hair. “So… Suzumura, huh?” I say. She turns pink.

By the time she’s halfway through curling my hair, Momo rushes in, hair pulled into an up do and dress slung over her arm like Melody’s was. “Oh kami-sama, I’m so sorry Bao-chan!” she exclaims, tossing her purse, the dress, and her cell phone onto the table before hurriedly sitting down next to me to slip the shoes onto my feet. She nods in greeting to Melody, whom she’d only met once before today. “I never thought I’d be late to something like this. I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, smiling. “You aren’t late yet. But please get changed. I wouldn’t want you waiting up there in your designer jeans!”

She smiles affectionately and hurries behind the screen to change. When she returns, it is in one of the plum colored dresses that the three bridesmaids and I agreed on. It hugs her waist and hips, trailing down into a mermaid cut, and the neckline is high enough to be conservative while also being low enough to not look stiff or stuffy. On her wrist is a custom bracelet that she made with amber, silver, and amethyst. She takes over Melody’s job, letting her retreat behind the screen to change. As they switch places, Jess appears with her hair slightly windblown.

“I’m late, I’m late! Ah! I’m really sorry!” she squeals, pulling the straps of her dress up higher on her bony shoulders. Her makeup is immaculate and she uses a skinny hand to smooth her bright orange-red hair while she opens the box with my veil in it. She smiles. “At least I can do one thing right today!”

“Don’t worry, Jess, everything will be all right,” I tell her. I frown and pull her straps back down so that they bear her shoulders. “The dress is meant to be off-the-shoulder, silly.” She blushes.

“I feel stupid. Where is Melody?”

“Right here,” she says softly. All of us turn to look at her, and she blushes. I have never seen her wear a dress except for back in high school when we went to prom in a huge group. She looks gorgeous, her eyes rimmed with dark eyeliner and mascara and a light lip gloss on her lips. Even her fingernails are plum purple, I realize, smiling. “Please stop staring at me.”

“It’s just that you look so lovely,” Jess says, hugging Melody tightly. I notice that she, too, has a sparkling diamond ring on her finger.

Momo finishes the last curl and turns the curling iron off, setting it on the vanity and sprays my head with hairspray. We all cough for a while and then everyone is suddenly smiling.

“What?” I ask, worried, “Do I have something in my hair?”

“No,” Momo says at last, breaking the silence. “You look like something out of a fairytale.”

******************************************************************************************************

Running a hand through my hair, I try to look for things to do. I know I should be doing something, after all, a groom isn’t supposed to just sit around and wait for half an hour, right? There must be something… I want to laugh at myself, at how giddy I feel. I have been married twice before, but it feels new every time, just like falling in love. What if it’s not perfect? What if someone important doesn’t show up? What if the priest is late?

More than anything, I want to go to Bao, to see if she is as nervous as I am, to see her eyes and kiss her lips, but I know it would not be appropriate. And every time I ask if everything is as it should be, the groomsmen assure me that it is. Instead, I remain isolated and pace with my arms folded in the large room, occasionally meeting my reflection’s eyes in the full length mirror provided. As I’m pacing, Takanori pokes his head into the room.

“Are you… nervous?” he asks, astonished.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, ignoring his question. “Where is Suzumura?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

“Have you seen Tetsuo? He should have been here 10 minutes ago.”

“I haven’t heard anything about him, and I haven’t seen him yet.”

I sigh, sitting down for a moment. “If he shows up, send him in here.” He nods and just as he’s about to leave, Suzumura’s voice floats into the room.

“Damn. Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s—WHOA! Did you actually buy yourself a suit? And where are your piercings?” Takanori demands. Both of them enter the room, and Takanori is going over his appearance, asking questions about his sudden change of style.

It’s true, Suzumura does look drastically different. Since he dyed two thick strips of his black hair a vivid blue, it’s grown out, showing thick bands of black roots, but other than the long Visual Kei style hair, he looks very professional. He is wearing a black tuxedo that is obviously tailored to his measurements and black dress shoes. All of his facial piercings have been taken out for the occasion, and although it isn’t obvious to those who haven’t seen him with them in, it is a striking difference to me. He usually wears lip rings and an eyebrow ring. He is still wearing his earrings, though.

“Yes, I put effort into my look today, enough questions. Satoru, I’m sorry that I’m cutting it close, but what’s going on? Do you need something?” Suzumura asks, sitting next to me.

“No, I think it’s all under control… mostly. You didn’t see Tetsuo on your way in, did you?”

“I’m right here,” my little brother says suddenly from the doorway, hard eyes fixed on my face. With a cool, neutral expression, I rise and greet him with a handshake. Takanori and Suzumura take that as their sign to leave. When they do, he continues to look at me for a moment, deciding whether or not I am what he was expecting. Finally, without releasing any of the stiffness of his posture, he continues. “I’m late.”

“You are,” I agree, nodding tensely. “Did you have a problem getting here?”

“Nothing that could have been helped,” he says, glancing around the room as if assessing it for damages. “It seems that I’m too late to be of much use.”

“There wasn’t much to help with,” I reply, eyeing him for a long moment before deciding to give him a little bit of my trust. “Are our parents here?”

He nods, conspicuously raising his arm to check his wristwatch for the time. I notice that it is one of the most expensive brands in Japan, and I find myself having to fight the familiar rise of scorn in my stomach at yet another of his displays. “You should hurry. It is almost time for the ceremony to begin, and the groom is supposed to be waiting for the bride. Not the other way around.”

Struggling against the urge to laugh at him, I walk out of the room and into my wedding.

*********************************************************************************************************

Standing just inside the door, I hesitate. What if my dad isn’t waiting for me to take my arm? What if he never showed up? I look at my feet, trying to think of a reason to wait for just a little longer. Melody, sensing this, takes my arm and smiles reassuringly at me. I smile back, but it just doesn’t sit right. My stomach flips.

“It’s your day, Bao,” she reminds me before slipping out into the aisle. “You can do this.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, muster all the courage I have, and push the curtain aside, following her into the waiting procession.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she finally steps out, she looks radiant—a streak of white among a sea of blacks and other dark colors. I stare at her openly, watching as her guarded eyes, obviously afraid, but unwilling to show it openly, cross the room looking for her father. Every woman is beautiful on her wedding day. Every woman exudes feminine beauty and a sort of youthful jubilance at the prospect of a ceremony of mutual bonding. But Bao is something entirely different as she gracefully drifts across the crimson ribbon of carpet leading up to the altar. To call her a princess would fall short of the mark, an angel would do her wrong, and sunshine is simply out of the question.

She is Bao. She is beautiful in all the ways that one can be beautiful. She is sweet in all the ways of youth and innocence. And she is going to be my wife.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My father’s face is not stony or bitter, as I had expected before, angry or disappointed. But it is older, wizened. Since I saw him last, it seems as though time has caught up to him. His eyes are lined with fine wrinkles and his skin is speckled with small, almost unnoticeable brown spots. His eyes are glistening with what I realize are tears. I wipe them off his cheeks with a gloved hand and smile, hoping that sympathy tears won’t ruin my mascara. He says nothing, only leads me down the aisle, our passage leisurely and tender.

I recognize all kinds of people as we pass: musicians, actors, models, and Satoru’s parents. And then there are people I have never met before. I glance at the other side of the congregation. My mother is sitting in the front row and my friends and extended family behind her.

When we reach the first step up to the altar, my father looks down into my eyes, his own very expressive and somehow at peace. He then looks up to Satoru, nods, and gently releases my arm. My friends and to-be sister-in-law are all watching me eagerly, smiles on their faces. I glance over at the groomsmen, Satoru’s best friends and someone I haven’t met before, but from many of the features, must be related to him. I wipe my tears away and stand beside Satoru before the priest. We give each other one long, understanding gaze. His eyes are sparkling with tears, too. I squeeze his hand and listen to the words that will tie us together like fine threads on a loom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you, Bao, take this man to be your lawfully-wedded husband? Will you remain at his side through sickness and in health, in happiness and sorrow, until death do you part?”

I look at Satoru, into his amber eyes, at the eyes that have laughed with me, glistened with tears, and sternly reminded me of things he’d fervently believed. The eyes that I have memorized, dreamt of, drawn and painted; the eyes that I see when I close my own. I look at the smooth curve of his lips, the lips that have sung beautiful melodies, that have made sweet promises, have kissed me so gently, that have given way to soft, love-filled groans in the night. Our fingers lace together with anticipation. His eyes are twinkling like stars.

“I do,” I manage in a passion-choked whisper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And do you, Satoru, take this woman to be your lawfully-wedded wife? Will you remain at her side through sickness and health, in happiness and sorrow, until death do you part?”

Looking into her bright brown eyes, I see the past, the wrongness of my previous marriages and what they mean, and I let them go. I see Zhi Zhang and his terrible stain on her innocence, and I am impressed at her strength. I see her father’s disapproval at our first few meetings, and I understand what it was that he feared. I see my own claims of what I sought and desired, and I am happy that I was proven wrong.

Looking into her bright brown eyes, I see the future. One with a family—one or two children that might share the unfortunate side effects of my genetics, and Bao and I comforting them, helping them understand their strange attachment to the spirit world. One without a family—just the two of us together, travelling everywhere we can go. I see a moment that is both mundane and beautiful: she is walking down a hallway and turns back toward me, long sleeved shirt on and fleece shorts, with a smiling face and cheeks pink from sipping hot tea.

Looking into her bright brown eyes, I see the present. All of my happiness is reflected there, and more than that, there is no fear or worry. There is no secret to hide away, no emotion that we need to bury under the others.

We won’t always be happy.

“I do,” I say, my tears overflowing, now matching hers.

We will never get to be perfect.

“You may kiss the bride.”

But we love each other.

As if being tugged together by our eager hearts we meet somewhere in the middle. I bend my head down to kiss her, and she rises on tiptoe. I sweep her into my arms as our lips meet. It is like the very first time, and yet it is unlike any kiss before this one; it is both familiar and completely new. Her arms loop around my neck. We don’t part for a long time, but when we do, we are both smiling.

And I think this looks pretty optimistic.