Western Waves (Compass 3)

He looked up at me and began to speak the words straight to me. “I’ve seen your kindness. I’ve seen your sensitivities. I’ve seen how you take every word to your heart and feel deeply for everything—even the waves,” he said, gesturing toward the ocean.

I laughed, feeling on the edge of tears as he kept on.

“I’ve seen your expressions and how my words impact you. I’ve seen how my asshole tendencies affect you. So I’ll make a few promises to you today. I promise to watch my words around you so you don’t feel as if you are walking on eggshells. I promise to apologize when I’m wrong and even when I’m right. I promise to be honest with you but try to do so in a gentler way. Even though this is fake, I promise to pretend it’s not. To be your husband when you need me and less of an asshole whenever I can. I promise you blueberry scones on Saturday mornings because I know that’s important. So yeah. That’s it. I promise not to be the worst parts of me, so you can be the best parts of yourself. Today, I promise you that.”

“Well then,” Grams said, wiping at the tears falling from her eyes. “That was unexpected.”

Damian grimaced. “It was too much.”

“No!” everyone shouted at once, tossing their hands in the air.

Connor leaned forward and patted his friend on the shoulder. “It was just the perfect amount of enough.”

Damian’s grumpy look was back with his lowered brows. “Okay. Then continue,” he said to Grams.

“Wait!” I shouted. “I came up with a few promises, too.”

“Oh?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes. Well, clearly, this is being made up as I go, but I promise you quiet mornings. I already noticed you aren’t a morning person, based on your grumbles when you make coffee. And I promise not to go on long random bursts of conversation when you are clearly not in the mood—so never will I do that. Actually, I might, but that’s just because I’m chatty. I don’t do well in quiet places. Even when I’m by myself, I talk out loud. But I’ll try to be more mindful about it. I promise you peace in the world of my emotional chaos. I promise to pull back on my crying because I know it makes you uneasy. And I promise you that even your worst parts aren’t as ugly as you make them out to be, and I promise to make a space where you can be your truest self without judgment. Today, I promise you that.”

“It’s like you both are trying to destroy a pregnant woman’s emotions,” Aaliyah cried out, reaching for a tissue she stored in her bra.

“Pass one over here,” Connor agreed, reaching out for a tissue.

I laughed at how lighthearted everything was becoming after a morning filled with so much anxiety.

When it came time for “I do,” we both said them. We didn’t exchange rings, but we did sign a piece of paper, making the arrangement as real as it was going to be.

Grams clapped her hands together. “By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the—”

“I won’t kiss you,” Damian blurted out. He grew a bit shy and shook his head. “You know since you have a boyfriend and all.”

“Right. My boyfriend. Of course. That would be completely inappropriate.”

“Yes. Because marrying a stranger isn’t inappropriate at all,” he joked.

At least I thought he was joking. It was hard to tell with that one.

“Well, at least hug one another,” Grams offered.

“Oh, Damian doesn’t do hugs,” Connor said. “Except for Aaliyah, but that’s just because she’s pregnant. It’s a free pass for a few months.”

“Want to dab fists?” I joked.

“I’m not dabbing fists,” Damian replied.

Fair enough.

“Well, uh, shake hands?” Grams said, getting bored with the whole thing.

I held my hand out toward Damian, and he held his out toward me.

We shook each other’s hands as husband and wife. Then right afterward a wave crashed against the shore, splashing water against my cheeks, feeling as if they were Mama’s kisses.

Connor and Aaliyah had to catch a flight out of California back to New York after the ceremony. When they left, it felt like another regular Saturday evening again. Minus the nontraditional wedding dress I was still wearing and the husband inside the house I grew up in.

I sat on the coastline, staring out as the darkened sky kissed the edge of the ocean, feeling my heartbeats intensify. I had a feeling that even though I wanted today to be a normal day, things would be quite interesting over the next six months.

I walked out toward the water in my black gown and allowed the waves to engulf me. I prayed to the goddess of the ocean and asked Mama and Kevin to protect me for whatever was to come. To show me the way I was meant to travel. To help me figure out what was supposed to come next because I had no clue what to do. I felt as if my life didn’t have much direction. At almost thirty years old, I thought my life would be different. I thought my art would take off, and I wouldn’t still be working at a massage studio. I figured I’d be married—to Jeff—and maybe expecting our first child. I thought Kevin would still be here to walk me down the aisle.