Creep

It was grueling and at any moment, I was sure this pudgy faced officer was going to realize what was going on. The room we were in was unlike the ones on TV. It was brightly lit, which hurt my still adjusting eyes, and the walls were brightly colored. They asked me the questions again and again, and I hoped they were asking Tom the same questions in the next room, because these were the questions we had expected and were prepared for.

“How did you meet?” he asked.

“Through my mother.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Not long. Two months.”

“You haven’t been to the reservation before tonight.”

“It’s been through letters and phone calls.”

“And you want to marry him?”

I sighed. “When you know, you know.”

“You couldn’t wait to obey the law?”

“I’m sorry. That was my fault. I pushed his hand.”

The cop rubbed his temple. “He’ll have to go to jail for some time now.”

“Some time?” I asked. The concern in my voice was not fake. I was worried for my mother.

“Forty-eight hours, I would say, but I can’t tell you for sure yet. After the wedding.”

I gulped. I mean, I really gulped. It was audible. The cop looked at me with concern, and I imagined I looked pathetic and sad at the thought of the man I loved going to jail just after our wedding.

In reality, the word ‘wedding’ made my throat close up.

“Which will be… here?” I asked.

He stood up, tapping his papers on his chest. “I’ll be right back.”

I drummed my fingers on the wooden table and wished there was a window for me to gaze out of. I wondered how long before the sun rose. Would Tom be in jail by then?

I hoped.

When the officer came back in, the gestured for me to follow him out. At the front desk was a tired looking man in jeans and a t-shirt.

“We’ve called a justice of the peace. He isn’t happy about being here this late, especially for this.”

Especially for this. Because vampires—me included now—were not worthy of this sort of thing.

“Let’s get it done,” said the tall, angry looking man who was to marry me to a man I did not even like.

I looked over my shoulder at Tom and my mother approaching. She looked as if she was about to cry, while he was doing his best to smile. He reached for my hand when he got to me, and I reluctantly held it tight and, for my mother, smiled at him and rested close to him.

I didn’t listen to what was said. I spoke my part when I needed to, and then there was a ring on my finger which had belonged to my mother, I knew, and I was married.

Tom leaned down and for a second, just looked in my eyes. He kissed my cheek first, his lips cold on my skin, and before pulling back he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

I grabbed his face with either side of my hands, quite roughly, and kissed him on the mouth.

“You will be,” I whispered.