You're My Guiding Light
1/2
It was supposed to be the happiest night of my life. Every little girl dreams about that moment, envisions it differently each time but with a positive outlook. I myself had done the same thing, changing up the place or the lighting or even the man I was with. But each time I made sure that it was a fairytale. After all, what young girl doesn’t believe that her honeymoon would be the most perfect moment of her life?
My own wedding night came a lot different than I ever dreamed it would be. I wanted something fancy, a hotel maybe that had a wonderful suite and an amazing view of the ocean. I wanted my husband to be skinny and really tall with an amazing shock of curly blonde hair and a killer, dimpled smile. I wanted to walk out onto the balcony in hardly anything at all and have him come up behind me and kiss me and tell me he loved me. And I wanted to make love there in that very spot like it was my first time all over again.
My honeymoon didn’t happen like that at all. It was completely the opposite of everything I had ever dreamed. The hotel room was gorgeous but faced a beach I had grown up on. The balcony there wasn’t big enough for two which meant my dreams of having sex there were also out. The only thing that was perfect was the man I married. He was handsome, muscular, and had a smile to die for. His eyes were intuitive and beautiful on his tanned face, and when he looked at me I felt like I was almost drowning.
It should have been a happy night. I was married and there I was spending a night with a man most girls would have killed for, who was also my husband. But that very same night as I woke up and saw a lock of chestnut brown hair on my pillow, it all shattered into pieces.
When I saw it, my heart plummeted to my stomach and my breath came in wheezing, raspy intervals. Tears bloomed into my eyes and I didn’t have the strength to push them away. An impending sense of doom fell over me and seemed to choke the life almost out of me. On my left side, my husband of no more than 21 hours awoke and reached over to me. In the dark, I cried out and pushed myself against him, burying my face into his side.
“Autumn, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice hushed and scared.
I said nothing and continued to cry. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his wife was going to be bald and ugly now. He was going to have to deal with the fact that I was not the kind of girl he deserved. He scrambled to turn on the bedside lamp and once the room was lit up, he let out a groan.
“Autumn baby, c’mere,” he murmured, sitting up in the bed and pulling me with him.
My eyes were puffy, red and raw, so I threw my hands over my face, not wanting him to have to see me. He nuzzled his nose gently against my hand, trying to move it and make me laugh. I didn’t laugh, but I grinned a little and he could tell. We had known each other long enough to know the signs of our emotions.
“You knew this was going to happen,” he murmured.
“I didn’t know it was going to be so soon, Brian!” I sobbed, pushing my face into his bare chest again.
“I know baby girl. But your chemo treatment is aggressive and unpredictable. We talked to the doctor about this before the wedding, remember?”
I nodded, sniffling slightly. I had stage four lymphoma cancer, which was all around bad news. The chances of me recovering were slim, but I didn’t want to give up. I took the most aggressive form of chemotherapy there was in order to try and keep on living. Test after test showed bad results, and I began to fear that I would die at 26 with no boyfriend, no children, no nothing.
Brian Haner Jr. was my best friend. We’d known each other since before grade school. Our parents used the same daycare center and we were somehow always put together. We went to both public and high school together, our friendship strong and steadfast. I never thought of Brian in a romantic way and he never did for me. We were like brother and sister, and it was weird to think of him like that. After I got my tests back and found that my cancer was close to killing me already, things started to change.
I cried in Brian’s arms nearly every night. It got to the point where I couldn’t sleep in my own house because I was scared I would die in my sleep and be left there for days. Brian asked me to move in and I accepted. It was as natural as breathing with him, and I didn’t have to pretend or fake my feelings. After getting more treatment and seeing nothing but bad signs, I confessed to Brian how scared I was to die with none of my goals accomplished. I told him my dreams about getting married, of having kids, of exploring the world and doing simple things. He told me those were good hopes and dreams, and that one day I’d beat my cancer and do all of them.
When I didn’t show signs of improvement, he proposed to me.
It wasn’t a romantic love, more of a love out of necessity. Brian wanted me to be happy, to be in a marriage while I was going through one of the most difficult times in my life and have a steeple which I could base my recovery around. I was thrilled with the idea, and as shocking as it had been, I was intrigued to see where it would go. It was a friendly marriage, nothing sexual or romantic about it, just two friends trying to fulfill a possibly dying girls dreams. I was okay with that, and apparently so was Brian.
The marriage had come quick and with hardly any preparation at all, and within three months of being engaged we were married. And then there we were, sitting in a bed we had consummated our marriage in with me crying over a lock of fucking hair after all he had done for me.
“It doesn’t matter if the chemo makes your hair fall out and violently ill in the morning or even effects your weight. Autumn, you are a beautiful girl, and you need to do this for you. This is the only way you can get better. I’m not going to run away because of the side effects of your medicine,” he murmured, running his hands gently through my remaining hair.
He looked at me with tender eyes, the corners looking rather wet. My heart leapt into my throat as we locked eyes and he held our gaze, gently tilting my chin up with one of his hands.
“I love you, kiddo. As your best friend and husband,” he caught himself, a cheeky grin spreading across his handsome features. “That will never change.”
“Promise?” I whimpered, looking away from him and back down at the lock of dark hair.
He caught my chin again, once more drawing my attention to him. His smile had dimmed but still held the potential that it always did. “I promise you, nothing will change.”
I looked down at the hotel bedding, my eyes tracing the outlined of his toned waist from underneath. We were best friends, and now we were married? The situation could not get any more strange for me.
A small, hesitant smile quirked at the edges of my lips, almost as if what I had to say had finally sunk in with me. I took a deep breath, lay my hand in his and pressed a kiss to his chest.
“But it already has.”
My own wedding night came a lot different than I ever dreamed it would be. I wanted something fancy, a hotel maybe that had a wonderful suite and an amazing view of the ocean. I wanted my husband to be skinny and really tall with an amazing shock of curly blonde hair and a killer, dimpled smile. I wanted to walk out onto the balcony in hardly anything at all and have him come up behind me and kiss me and tell me he loved me. And I wanted to make love there in that very spot like it was my first time all over again.
My honeymoon didn’t happen like that at all. It was completely the opposite of everything I had ever dreamed. The hotel room was gorgeous but faced a beach I had grown up on. The balcony there wasn’t big enough for two which meant my dreams of having sex there were also out. The only thing that was perfect was the man I married. He was handsome, muscular, and had a smile to die for. His eyes were intuitive and beautiful on his tanned face, and when he looked at me I felt like I was almost drowning.
It should have been a happy night. I was married and there I was spending a night with a man most girls would have killed for, who was also my husband. But that very same night as I woke up and saw a lock of chestnut brown hair on my pillow, it all shattered into pieces.
When I saw it, my heart plummeted to my stomach and my breath came in wheezing, raspy intervals. Tears bloomed into my eyes and I didn’t have the strength to push them away. An impending sense of doom fell over me and seemed to choke the life almost out of me. On my left side, my husband of no more than 21 hours awoke and reached over to me. In the dark, I cried out and pushed myself against him, burying my face into his side.
“Autumn, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice hushed and scared.
I said nothing and continued to cry. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his wife was going to be bald and ugly now. He was going to have to deal with the fact that I was not the kind of girl he deserved. He scrambled to turn on the bedside lamp and once the room was lit up, he let out a groan.
“Autumn baby, c’mere,” he murmured, sitting up in the bed and pulling me with him.
My eyes were puffy, red and raw, so I threw my hands over my face, not wanting him to have to see me. He nuzzled his nose gently against my hand, trying to move it and make me laugh. I didn’t laugh, but I grinned a little and he could tell. We had known each other long enough to know the signs of our emotions.
“You knew this was going to happen,” he murmured.
“I didn’t know it was going to be so soon, Brian!” I sobbed, pushing my face into his bare chest again.
“I know baby girl. But your chemo treatment is aggressive and unpredictable. We talked to the doctor about this before the wedding, remember?”
I nodded, sniffling slightly. I had stage four lymphoma cancer, which was all around bad news. The chances of me recovering were slim, but I didn’t want to give up. I took the most aggressive form of chemotherapy there was in order to try and keep on living. Test after test showed bad results, and I began to fear that I would die at 26 with no boyfriend, no children, no nothing.
Brian Haner Jr. was my best friend. We’d known each other since before grade school. Our parents used the same daycare center and we were somehow always put together. We went to both public and high school together, our friendship strong and steadfast. I never thought of Brian in a romantic way and he never did for me. We were like brother and sister, and it was weird to think of him like that. After I got my tests back and found that my cancer was close to killing me already, things started to change.
I cried in Brian’s arms nearly every night. It got to the point where I couldn’t sleep in my own house because I was scared I would die in my sleep and be left there for days. Brian asked me to move in and I accepted. It was as natural as breathing with him, and I didn’t have to pretend or fake my feelings. After getting more treatment and seeing nothing but bad signs, I confessed to Brian how scared I was to die with none of my goals accomplished. I told him my dreams about getting married, of having kids, of exploring the world and doing simple things. He told me those were good hopes and dreams, and that one day I’d beat my cancer and do all of them.
When I didn’t show signs of improvement, he proposed to me.
It wasn’t a romantic love, more of a love out of necessity. Brian wanted me to be happy, to be in a marriage while I was going through one of the most difficult times in my life and have a steeple which I could base my recovery around. I was thrilled with the idea, and as shocking as it had been, I was intrigued to see where it would go. It was a friendly marriage, nothing sexual or romantic about it, just two friends trying to fulfill a possibly dying girls dreams. I was okay with that, and apparently so was Brian.
The marriage had come quick and with hardly any preparation at all, and within three months of being engaged we were married. And then there we were, sitting in a bed we had consummated our marriage in with me crying over a lock of fucking hair after all he had done for me.
“It doesn’t matter if the chemo makes your hair fall out and violently ill in the morning or even effects your weight. Autumn, you are a beautiful girl, and you need to do this for you. This is the only way you can get better. I’m not going to run away because of the side effects of your medicine,” he murmured, running his hands gently through my remaining hair.
He looked at me with tender eyes, the corners looking rather wet. My heart leapt into my throat as we locked eyes and he held our gaze, gently tilting my chin up with one of his hands.
“I love you, kiddo. As your best friend and husband,” he caught himself, a cheeky grin spreading across his handsome features. “That will never change.”
“Promise?” I whimpered, looking away from him and back down at the lock of dark hair.
He caught my chin again, once more drawing my attention to him. His smile had dimmed but still held the potential that it always did. “I promise you, nothing will change.”
I looked down at the hotel bedding, my eyes tracing the outlined of his toned waist from underneath. We were best friends, and now we were married? The situation could not get any more strange for me.
A small, hesitant smile quirked at the edges of my lips, almost as if what I had to say had finally sunk in with me. I took a deep breath, lay my hand in his and pressed a kiss to his chest.
“But it already has.”