WE ARE ONE: Volume Two

by Jewel, Bella

  It sucked.

  Sitting here in my childhood home, with my mum and my childhood adopted family, I felt happy and ‘mostly’ amused by Laura’s antics. “Is Chris my new fiancé? Nooooo.” I continued to eat, unperturbed by her provocation. “He’s too messy for me. Plus, he’s not a fan of Dudley.”

  “Who’s Dudley?”

  I forked potato salad into my mouth. “The love of my life.”

  Elliot smirked, his tension easing, and forked some salad into his mouth, too.

  “You like him, don’t ya, Lots?”

  “Oh, I love Pug— I mean Dudley. He makes himself right at home.”

  I burst into laughter.

  “Who is Dudley?” Laura asked again.

  “My dog.” I carried on eating, waiting for her to strike again. She obviously had a point to make, and something told me she hadn’t made it yet.

  “So, you and Chris have never been an item?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not even a little bit?”

  “Laura, what’s your point?” Elliot snapped. “If you’ve got one, make it.”

  She held her hands up in defence. “What? I just thought they looked good together today, that’s all.”

  “Laura, that’s enough,” Helen added.

  “Riiiiiiiight. Anyone want dessert?” Mum asked, as she stood up, smiling and trying to keep the peace. “I’ve got Pavlova and some ice cream for the little guy.”

  “Sheesh. Why are you all so uptight? It’s not as if Danielle and Elliot are in love with each and other and too stubborn to admit it, right?” She smiled satisfactorily at us both. “Right?”

  Annnnnnnd there it is.

  I narrowed my eyes at her then shrugged it off, standing from the table. “Right.” Picking up my plate, I picked up Elliot’s as well. “Elliot knows I love him. Always have. Always will. What he does with that piece of information is entirely up to him.”

  I fired her the same satisfactory grin, bigger, in fact, and left the room to help mum.

  * * *

  “She’s a bit of a bulldog,” Mum said under her breath as she prepared the Pavlova.

  “Who? Laura?” I dipped my finger in the whipped cream and licked it.

  Mum swiped at me. “Yes.”

  “Na, she just has a particular way of getting her point across.”

  “Particular way?” she scoffed. “I can see that.” She kept smearing cream on top of the Pavlova. “She was right, though.”

  “I know.”

  Placing her spatula down, she turned to me. “So why can’t you both figure it out?”

  “We can.”

  “You can or you will?”

  I smiled. “Both.”

  “When?”

  “When the time is right.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m just gonna go outside for a little bit, okay?”

  She hovered her hand over my forehead, a concerned look in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. It’s been a big day. I just want some cool air.”

  “Okay. Do me a favour and bring in some lemons?”

  Nodding, I opened the back door and entered the cool night air, letting it tame the heated embarrassment I’d kept at bay during Laura’s attack. I’d known she’d had an objective; I just hadn’t realised it was that. Yeah, she was right; we were stubborn, and I loved him and he loved me. But sometimes that wasn’t enough. Sometimes, there were niches we held onto or hid behind, because they kept us safe from the fear of letting go.

  Sometimes, that fear took precedence.

  Over the past week, I’d realised I no longer wanted my fear of losing the ones I loved to rule my heart. I didn’t want it shackling me from the greatest happiness I may ever experience. That notion, alone, was more terrifying than taking a leap out of my safety zone.

  Sitting down at the base of our lemon tree, I rotated one of the yellow fruits in my hand just as the back door opened and Elliot stepped out to join me, his hands behind his back, his posture sheepish.

  “You alright?” he asked, squatting down in front of me.

  “Yeah, of course.” I tossed the lemon and caught it. “Your sister is harmless. She means well in a not so well way.”

  “Tell me about it. Still, I want to apologise for her taking aim like that.”

  “You don’t need to apologise, Lots. She was right.”

  He nodded and moved to sit on his arse, pulling out from behind his back a box of Cheezels.

  I laughed and snatched them from him. “First dibs!”

  “Cheat.”

  “That’s not cheating. You snooze you lose.”

  “Technically, you snooze you sleep, and when you sleep, your body rejuvenates. That’s far from losing.”

  Shaking my head, I opened the box and split the foil bag, the waft of cheese hitting my nose. “Mm … yum. They smell so good. Why do they always smell so good?”

  “Artificial flavourings.”

  My head tilted and my eyebrow rose.

  “What? Truth.” He reached into the box and stole the first one while I was distracted by his glittering eyes.

  I whacked his arm. “Hey! I had first dibs.”

  “At my heart, yes. At this Cheezel, no.”

  Heat flushed my face, my heart beating a song and dance at his words. I swallowed and looked down at the lemon, not knowing what to say.

  “Do you want it?” he asked, waving it in front of me.

  I tried to snatch it but he was too quick. “You’re so mean.”

  “I tell ya what. You can have it, but you have to do one thing.” My eyes met his, and he leaned in closer. “Marry me.”

  “What?”

  Elliot took my hand in his, his soft fingers gently caressing mine. “Marry me. Say yes just like you did twenty-two years ago.”

  Tears pricked my eyes, the sense to hold onto my niche strong. “I don’t know, Lots. I've learned the hard way that some people just aren't worth the fight, no matter how tempting their bullshit promises may seem.”

  He lifted my chin, his eyes magnetising mine. “I'm worth it. You’re worth it. And that's no bullshit promise.”

  My God he was right. We were more than worth it.

  Gasping, I sniffed and blinked back my tears. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he asked, his grip on my hand tightening.

  I nodded. “YES! Yes, I’ll marry you. Now give me the Cheezel.”

  His shaky fingers slid the cheese ring onto my finger before he pulled me onto his lap and dipped me for a kiss, his lips crashing down on mine, butterflies —not real ones — once again exploding within me. In that moment, I let go of my niche, let it slip away with the breeze, bidding old fear farewell and welcoming new fear. Fear of marriage, living together, commitment … children. Children? Oh shit! And what about Dudley?

  The sound of cheering and a window being pounded on, snapped me from my new fear. I looked in the direction of the house, finding our families standing at the kitchen window, mum and Helen crying and embracing, Laura pointing to herself and nodding, and Samuel’s little hands constantly slapping the glass.

  “Wait!” I said, sitting back. “What about Dudley?”

  “What about Pugly?”

  “Dudley!”

  “Yeah.”

  “You said Pugly.”

  “I did not.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Danielle! What about him?”

  “We’re a package deal.”

  He nodded, sadly, squinting as he deliberated the dilemma. “Riiiiight. This could be a problem.”

  A smile stretched across both our faces.

  I whacked him.

  He kissed me.

  I whacked him again, this time, my whack, losing any whack it possessed.

  “Doggy training,” he mumbled against my mouth.

  I smiled and melded to him. “Fine. Deal. Now, let’s get married.”

  Epilogue

  Twenty-two years ago I promised myself to a girl. We were e
ight years old. Neighbours. I gave her a Cheezel, pushed it onto her finger, and asked her to marry me.

  She ate the Cheezel.

  She also said, “Yes” but that we’d have to wait until she turned thirty.

  I waited, and waited, and through a series of fortunate events, convinced her we were meant for each other and, that, one day, we would get married.

  Today is that day.

  Standing under the gum tree at Hillier Community Garden in my black tuxedo, my mother and sister by my side, all of us waiting as Danielle took tentative steps down the yellowbrick road toward me, I let out a chuckle when she stopped, lifted her wedding dress and pointed her ruby red sparkly heels at me. The entire garden was filled with varying pastel coloured satin ribbon, tied to chairs, fenceposts, and tree branches. The sun was shining, the flowers were in bloom; it looked absolutely magical, as if it were a scene in a fairy tale. And perhaps it was.

  I’d practically waited my entire life for this day, this moment, when the girl of my dreams would float toward me to become my wife. Except, Danielle had never been the girl of my dreams, she’d been the girl of my reality, my best friend. And that was even better. Because dreams ended; reality didn’t.

  I swallowed, choked, and blinked back my tears so that I wouldn’t miss a single smile she gave our closest friends and family. That smile, whether it was gifted to me or someone else, lit me up from within — every time.

  Looking down at my feet, I gave myself a split to second for composure before looking back up, sucking in a deep breath, and noticing what looked like a lead dangling from her wrist. I squinted and followed its length until it ended with Pugly. A laugh burst from my chest when I took in the tuxedo that he, too, was wearing, a bowtie fastened to his collar, a top hat strapped to his head. For the tiniest of seconds, I felt sorry for the little dude. He looked ridiculous. But then I remembered the untimely and shitty death of my Armani shirt and my compassion waned.

  Danielle turned around and handed the lead to Chris, her Bridesman. He took it from her and faux smiled, clearly unimpressed with his four-legged bridal partner. I couldn’t blame him.

  Giggling, Danielle wrapped her arms around Chris and whispered something in his ear. He rolled his eyes, but a wide smile played on his lips when his eyes met mine and then Laura’s. It was one of those smiles I didn’t like. The I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile. My stomach bottomed, and I turned to my sister, my Groomswoman. Her smile instantly vanished.

  “What was that?” I murmured from the corner of my mouth.

  “What was what?”

  “That exchange between you, Chris, and Danielle.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered, smiling like a seasoned ventriloquist

  “Lies. You lie worst than my wife.”

  “She’s not your wife yet.”

  “Matter of minutes, dear Sis. Matter. Of. Minutes.”

  “We’ll see.” Her voice was sing-song.

  Turning to face her, my eyes were wide, almost fearsome. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She laughed and adjusted my collar. “Elliot, take it easy. Sheesh. I’m only mucking around.”

  “Well, don’t. You’re supposed to be supporting me, not freaking me out.”

  “You freak yourself out. Now stop it. Do you honestly think I would let anything stop you and Danielle finally tying the knot?”

  I took in another breath, closed my eyes momentarily, and then let it out.

  She patted my shoulders, happy with her collar readjustment. “There you go. Are you good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  I was lying and I wasn’t, because I was more than good but also obscenely horrified, also known as running on groom-adrenaline. In mere minutes, I’d be kissing and holding Mrs Danielle Parker in my arms, and that both filled me with joy and frightened the fuck out of me.

  As she walked her final steps to the end of the aisle, I took in just how beautiful she looked in her lace, wedding gown. How it hugged her tiny body and trailed for a metre behind. Her hair was half up/half down, chocolate curls falling over her shoulders and lightly framing her beautiful face.

  “You’re beautiful,” I mouthed.

  She blushed, and so did I.

  Jeanette let go of her daughter’s arm, lifted her veil, and kissed her cheek.

  “Mum, stop crying or you’ll make me start.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m just … just … oh, you know.” She dabbed at her eyes and took Danielle’s hand, placing it in mine. “She’s always belonged to you and you to her. Now … it’s time for you both to belong together, as one, not separately.”

  “Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek.

  Sniffling, Danielle nodded and hugged her mother tight before letting go and taking both of my hands in hers.

  The nerves skittering all over my body skittered away, and I winked, bringing one of her hands to my lips to kiss.

  “You’re not allowed to do that,” she whispered, attempting to pull her hand away.

  “I’m allowed to do what I want. It’s my wedding.”

  “Ours,” she corrected. “Technically, it’s ours.”

  I chuckled and was about to technically throw her over my shoulder when the celebrant spoke, reminding me we had some important business to tend to before I could do just that.

  “Good afternoon, Ladies, Gentleman, and adorable dog. I am Sarah Fisher, your civil celebrant, and I am authorised and honoured to conduct the marriage of Elliot Elijah Parker and Danielle Uma Cunningham.”

  Chris chuckled and Danielle fired him a don’t-you-dare look — one of her best yet. He pursed his lips and clasped his hands in front of his body, instantly obeying her warning.

  I was impressed.

  “Both Elliot and Danielle know that from this day forward they promise to love one another in sickness and in health, for better and for worse, for as long as they both shall live. They promise to give each other strength and nurture all that allows them to seek unique destinies and goals. They will be unselfish, understanding, kind, and loyal …”

  The celebrant trailed off as I focussed solely on Danielle, her big brown eyes glossing with emotion, her pastel pink lips trembling as she clamped them shut. Memories of all the things the two of us had been through together started flicking across the forefront of my mind like a movie reel. From her kindness and ability to so easily distract me when my father passed away, to learning how to ride a bike together, to climbing trees, eating food we’d pinched from our cupboards, and holding each other as we shivered through a life-changing storm. But through each of those flickering memories, one kept reappearing. One that involved a Cheezel and a lifetime of promises.

  “Elliot and Danielle, before you are joined in marriage in my presence and in the presence of these witnesses, your family and friends, I must remind you of the solemn and binding relationship you are about to enter. Marriage, in accordance with the law in Australia is the union of a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others—”

  “Which is a crock of shit,” Danielle added angrily.

  Some of our guests gasped, unsure of what she was referring to, so she quickly explained herself.

  “It should be the union of a ‘person and person’ to the exclusion of all others. Love isn’t gender specific. Neither should be marriage.”

  I smiled as our family and guests applauded her statement.

  Danielle, too, smiled and gripped my hands tighter. “But let’s continue.”

  The celebrant nodded, a pleasant glint in her eye. “Yes, let’s. Please face each other and hold hands.”

  We did what she said, excited smiles on our faces, until Chris started cursing under his breath at Pugly.

  “What … are … you do— Pugly, stop it. You’re tying my legs together.”

  Chris huffed and gave up, allowing Pugly to wrap him like a present.

  “Right, again, let’s continue. Elliot Parker, do you take Danielle Cunningham
to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and respect her? Do you promise to share all that life has to offer; your hopes and dreams, achievements and disappointments from this day forward?”

  I squeezed her hands in mine. “I do.”

  “And do you, Danielle Cunningham, take Elliot Parker to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and respect him? Do you promise to share all that life has to offer; your hopes and dreams, achievements and disappointments from this day forward?”

  She squeezed my hands, too. “I do.”

  “Both Elliot and Danielle have chosen to their own vows today. Elliot, would you like to go first?”

  I nodded and cleared my throat. “I first fell in love with you, Danielle, when I was eight years old. You were kind and caring and had the cutest button nose, apple cheeks, and dark brown, chocolate curls for hair. The second time I fell in love with you was when you ate my Cheezel ring and said you’d marry me. The third time was in a butterfly house. The fourth, on a Merry-Go-Round. The fifth, when you ate my Cheezel ring again. The sixth … now.”

  Tears streamed down her face, so I caught some with my thumb and wiped them away.

  “And I will continue to fall in love with you, because that is something that will never stop. I was put on this earth to love you.”

  “Wow,” she said with a laugh. “That’s a tough act to follow.”

  A low hum of amusement sounded and blew with the breeze.

  “But I’ll try.” She took in a deep breath and blew it out. “Lots, you once told me you wanted to be my firsts. And you were. My first best friend, my first true love, my first kiss, and my first broken heart. But from this day forward, you’ll also be my lasts. My last best friend, my last true love, my last kiss, and my one and only heart. You’re my firsts, lasts, and everything in between. You’re my complete circle … my Cheezel.”

  I sobbed like a near happily married baby, and I didn’t care. I was her Cheezel and she was mine.

  “Now, who here has the rings?” Sarah announced, looking at me.