by Kody Boye
“Would you be interested in marrying my daughter?”
A fire could have started and burned a whole town asunder before the dots in his head finally began to connect with thin strands of wire. Strung, of course, by an old man’s heads, and pulled taut to make his puppet dance, it seemed to Nova that, for no reason whatsoever, a choir began to sing in the sky and the old man before him began to dance. Arms extended, head hung slack, mouth agape and legs positioned evenly—Ketrak the mayor of Bohren could have been nothing more than an apparition meant to confuse and dissuade him from his feelings, and for that Nova wondered just whether or not it would be proper to answer the question or just to leave it sit in the air.
What do I, he began to think, but stopped before he could continue.
He looked up to find the man still suspended in animation—waiting, eyes watching calmly, face showing no emotion. Ketrak didn’t look angry for the lack of immediate response, nor did he appear troubled because Nova hadn’t answered immediately. If anything, he looked content, as though he could be given all the time in the world to answer the question.
“Sir,” Nova began, nearly stuttering, heart flickering beneath his chance. “I—”
“I’m sorry,” Ketrak said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I care about your daughter. It’s just that… I haven’t even kissed her yet.”
“You’ve said this was the first time you’ve ever pursued a woman,” the man muttered, bowing his head and twisting the tangles of his long hair between his outstretched fingers. “I’m sorry, Nova. I had no right to put that on you.”
“I do care about her. If anything… I might even be in love with her, if you want my honest opinion.”
Nova reached back to rub his neck—hoping, in the processs, that his cheeks hadn’t brightened a shade.
“I know you have feelings for her,” Ketrak said, falling to one knee. “That’s more than obvious.”
“I don’t want to push her into anything. She’s been opening up a little more, but… well… I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I understand.”
Unable to meet the mayor’s eyes, Nova bowed his head. He kept his attention fixed on the floor for several long moments before the mayor reached out to touch his shoulders.
“It’s all right,” Ketrak said, tilting Nova’s chin up with two fingers. “Take it slow. Take your time.”
After standing and shaking the older man’s hand, Nova walked out the door, all the while feeling guilty about just what he had done.
Though his heart yearned for many things, he wasn’t completely sure it desired marriage, at least not now.
For a good, long while, he waited. For the urge to get his feelings off his chest, for the anxiety to go away, for the need to finally tell Katarina about his true feelings and to open his heart, mind and soul for a bigger, brighter future—he waited for it all, silently praying to the one God he believed in that it would eventually come about. Sadly, as he soon came to realize, those kinds of urges couldn’t just be summoned and let out of their cage. For them to be true, earnest and honest, they had to come out and reveal themselves on their own, much like exotic fish when breaching the tide and coming forth to reveal themselves to humans. Though doubtful of his discovery and unsure of his emotions, Nova realized that answers would eventually come, hopefully sooner rather than later.
Nearly every day, regardless of the weather or the conditions of the sky, Nova and Katarina took their daily walk, hand-in-hand and wrist-to-wrist. Eventually, as the chill crept forth and eventually pressed snow across their land, Ketrak came to reveal to Nova a coat he had said was once his as a younger and much bulkier man. Startling-black—with red fur cuffing its hood, wrists and waist—Nova could hardly refuse when the man passed it into his arms, for such a treasure amounted to more than most of the entirety of his belongings themselves. I want you to have it, Ketrak had said, even as Nova had refused. It’s yours. Take it.
“Take it,” he whispered.
“It’s cold,” Katarina said, drawing close to Nova’s side and forcing him from his thoughts.
“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if we went to the bar.”
“You don’t plan on drinking, do you?”
“I’m not. Sorry to say, but I have no money with me right now.”
He also thought of adding ‘or at home,’ but decided not to. What reason was there to remind his love of poverty when they were having such a good time?
“That’s all right,” she said, turning her head up as the bar came into view.
The moment they passed into the establishment, filled to the brim with drunkards and common civilians, Katarina laced their fingers together, as if beckoning for some form of response.
“It’s ok,” Nova whispered. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“I know,” she replied. “It’s just… I don’t like being around so many people.”
They settled themselves down at a nearby table and refused the advance of a waitress who came forward bearing two cups of fresh, ice-cold water. In the booth they sat in—together, content and even all the happier for their progress—it seemed to Nova that his emotions were beginning to thrust themselves down upon him, as if they were terrible creatures willing to pick apart each and every part of his personality.
You’ll have to confess soon, those creatures said, kissing his cheeks and trailing their nails down his spine. This isn’t going to work otherwise.
“Katarina,” Nova said. “Can I… can I tell you something?”
“You know you can,” she said, setting a hand on his chest. “Nova, what’s—”
Before she could continue, he bowed his head and brought their lips together.
Though he didn’t make it last for fear that attention would be drawn to them and their situation exploited, the short moment that their flesh bonded filled him with a fire he had never felt before.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispered.
Likely unsure of what to say, as her eyes were filled with an emotion Nova had never once seen throughout the entirety of his life, Katarina kept her hand on his chest. At first, she didn’t look him directly in the eye, as the nerves within her heart were likely lighting her mind. But, gradually, after several long and undeterminable moments, she turned her head up and smiled.
“I love you too,” she said.
This is it, Nova thought, bringing her into his arms. I told her.
Regardless of the noise and of the commotion around them, Nova managed to rock Katarina in his arms without caring about what others might think or say.
He loved this woman.
Nothing would come between them.
Several months later, just as winter began to roll in with a gust of wind and a hail of ice, Nova and Ketrak stood in front of a large mirror preparing for the day that would ultimately change their life.
“You look great,” Ketrak said, smoothing out the shoulders of Nova’s pitch-black, white-buttoned shirt. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m getting married,” Nova laughed. “How do you expect me not to be?”
“It’s just a brief ceremony and a kiss.”
“And a party afterward…. Well, for your side of the family, anyway.”
“It’s for you too, son,” the man laughed. He slid an arm around Nova’s shoulder. “You look damn handsome.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.”
“That reminds me of something.” Nova slid his hands into his pockets. “I never did find a ring in my home. I tried, but I couldn’t.”
“That’s all right. I’ve got something for you.”
The man slid his hand into his pockets and retrieved from its depths a small, black box, then said, “Here,” before opening the trinket. “I want you to give this to my daughter.”
Nova could hardly believe his eyes as he leaned forward and looked into the box.
&nbs
p; The silver band, complete in its harmony of eternity, linked three individual times to reveal a bountiful ruby, a succulent emerald and an awe-inspiring sapphire hidden between their loops.
“Sir,” Nova said. “I can’t—”
“You won’t have a thing to give my daughter if you don’t take this.”
“Where did you get such a treasure?” he asked, taking the box from his soon-to-be-father-in-law before sliding the ring out of its slot. The texture each stone possessed astounded him, to the point where he didn’t even notice that Ketrak had touched his shoulder until the man’s lips were at his ears.
“We should get out of here,” he said, patting Nova’s shoulder. “You need to be out first.”
“I know.”
After slipping the ring into his pocket, Nova took a deep breath, then stepped up to the door.
Am I ready for this?
Rather than wait for any form of response from something or anything, he pushed the door forward.
Immediately, all eyes were on him.
Talk about unnerving.
With a deep breath and a long, slow exhale, he began to walk up the aisle and tried his hardest not to look into the crowd of people that surrounded him. Though it was only Ketrak’s family, as his own had long since died out and all of Patrus Eternity’s relatives were few and sparse, the tension in the room seemed to mount with each and every step. What, he wondered, could they possibly be thinking? Did they think him a petty commoner, a man with no money, a boy who worked in the fields digging potatoes and beats and carrots and lettuce, or did they think of him as someone who would take over their niece, their cousin, their granddaughter, maybe even their goddaughter and give her all there was for him to give? Whatever the reason and despite the cause, Nova began taking slow, deep breaths—in, then out through the nose—before he stepped up to the podium, directly where a priest stood garbed in a fine, dark gown.
“Everything’s going be just fine,” the priest said, reaching forward to grasp his hand and clap his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
“I’m not nervous,” Nova said, forcing a smile.
The priest only chuckled.
Turning to face the audience, the holy man said, “Can we have the bride come out?”
Nova stood—one hand clutching the tail of his shirt, the other the ring in his pocket—and waited for the double doors opposite him to open.
Katarina would be walking down the aisle in but a few moments.
He couldn’t believe how he felt.
His heart ablaze, his mind in rhythm, his breaths even and cool despite the nerves and his hands trembling as if he’d just been struck with the Chill or something similar—it seemed, in that moment, that the entirety of his life had been building up to this very moment, this ultimate climax, and would, eventually, explode into the finality of his life as a boy and the descent to his journey as a man.
Come on, Katarina. Don’t keep me waiting.
If he was this nervous—so nervous, in fact, that he wanted to tremble and break down into tears—he couldn’t imagine just how Katarina felt. She had to walk down the seemingly-unending aisle, in front of all the people he had just passed, but unlike him, they would all be watching her, the beauty in the flowing white gown and the rosemary perfume.
“Sir?” he asked, wanting to reach out to touch the priest, but somehow resisting the urge to do so. “What’s taking so long?”
“Someone’s just went into her changing room.” The priest took hold of his arm. “Don’t worry. You don’t just anything to be nervous about. This will be over before you know it. Then all you’ll have to remember are the memories.”
That’s all I need.
He definitely did not want to go through this again.
Before he thought the feelings of anxiety could get any worse, the double doors opened.
From them walked the woman he loved more than anything else in the world.
Dressed in a long, lace gown, bearing a bouquet of beautiful, ruby-red roses, she walked down the aisle with grace Nova would have never expected and raised her head to reveal the face that lay shadowed behind the veil. In a manner that symbolized the ugly ducking molting its feathers and turning into the beautiful swan, Katarina started forward, heels clicking in her pursuit up the aisle, and tossed her head back, the skirt of her veil cascading through the air as if it were some great rain falling down from the clearest of skies. Debonair, yet as humble as she could possibly be, she lifted the bouquet higher to her chest and continued down the aisle, her shoes the only sound that could be heard throughout the room.
Two flower girls followed suit. Both scattered petals.
Immediately, the scent of roses overwhelmed the room.
Nova’s eyes watered.
Stepping forward, but careful not to trip on her gown, Katarina smiled, mounted the stairs, then set the bouquet on the stone table between them before turning to face him.
You’re so beautiful, he wanted to say, but chose to keep his compliments to himself before the ceremony began.
“We’ve come to join these two together,” the priest began, opening a large book, “in holy matrimony. By the power invested in me by the church, my God and my people, I hereby begin the bonding of these two young souls.” He looked up at Nova, then to Katarina. “Novalos Eternity, the groom, and Katarina Noahna, the bride, are here today to pledge their love for each other in the presence of friends and family. If anyone here feels as though this young couple should not be together, please, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nova saw a few people speaking to one another. He swallowed the lump in his throat over the sight of complete strangers whispering under the hushed, muted silence of the room and tried his hardest not to tremble in the face of it.
Unnerved, but not deterred, he turned to look into Katarina’s eyes.
Hidden by lace, shrouded in shadow, he could only imagine what their blue depths held.
To him, however, he saw nothing but his future.
This is it, he thought, the room falling quiet and the sound of the world once more drowning out. This is why it doesn’t matter. This is why they can say whatever they want and it won’t hurt us one bit.
“Good,” the priest nodded, closing his book. “Mr. Eternity—will you please present your ring to Miss. Noahna?”
Reaching into his suit, Nova slid the black box out of his pocket and opened it. He plucked the ring from its place within the plush felt and slid it onto Katarina’s finger in but one swift motion, all the while glowing with pride and admiration.
Her face—her tears—said everything he needed to know about one of the innumerable gifts Ketrak had given him throughout the past year.
“Miss Noahna,” the priest then said. “Will you please present your ring to Mr. Eternity?”
Ketrak stepped forward, case in hand, and offered the ring to Katarina. With a nod, she took the box, popped it open, then took the single gold ban with a lone ruby inlaid into its surface and slid it onto Nova’s finger.
Nova felt a splash of warmth at his wrist.
“And now,” the priest said, “I declare you husband and wife.”
It took little action to do what he did next.
Stepping forward, Nova slid his fingers beneath Katarina’s veil, then pulled it up and over her head.
She glowed more than ever, despite the tears and the eye makeup slowly running down her face.
His lips met hers.
Their hearts intertwined.
From that moment on, he knew he would be a different man.
Never again would he have to wake up feeling lonely.
Months after the wedding, and during a time in which Nova felt himself becoming more and more a part of the Noahna family in general, he lay in bed thinking about his life had changed and the way his time as a married man has affected him. Selling his father’s old house, a grand and tumultuous decision, as well as a painful one; m
oving into the Noahna mansion; taking up the bridle as a married man and the life of a husband who was apt to serve a wife as well as he could—whether shoveling the snow from the main path or helping one of Ketrak’s many cooks make dinner, he tried his best in order to keep himself active and healthy, as it seemed that in the frigid weather there was little work to be done.
How he wanted winter to be over and for the spring to come upon them.
While lying on the couch one day, dozing between the realms of consciousness and sleep, he felt from the corner of the room a disturbance and opened his eyes to find Katarina taking slow but swift steps toward the couch, the look on her face perturbed and all the more frightened.
“Nova?” the young woman asked, unaware of the fact that he was not asleep, therefore projecting her feelings and emotions into her body language and dialogue. “Are you all right?”
“Just cold,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket up higher up his chest.
“I don’t mean now. I mean…”
“You mean… what?” he asked.
When no response followed, he pushed himself into a sitting position, tightened his hold on the blanket around his shoulders, then threw his legs over the side of the couch. It was moments like these—when, during Katarina’s quiet phases, she seemed all the more nervous and unsure—that made him tremble. He sometimes even went so far as to shed silent tears for no reason at all, yet when his wife confronted him about certain things in such a way, he couldn’t help but wonder just what was troubling her.