Deciding Tomorrow

by Ericson, Renee

  “No problem,” she says at the door. “I’ll just come and get you when it’s time.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  She exits and leaves me alone with Brent’s words.

  Retrieving the folded paper from the envelope, I discover a tiny note taped to the top.

  See you soon. I love you. —Brent

  Interested, I unfold the larger piece of paper to find a few paragraphs scrawled in my father’s handwriting.

  My daughter,

  I don’t have to be there to know how beautiful you are on this day. There’s no doubt in my mind that you are a vision to every person who lays eyes on you.

  I wish I could be there. Even more so, I wish I could have been there when you needed me the most. I failed you in that respect, but I have always loved you. I love you still, and I will forever. You will always be my daughter, and no one could be prouder than me of the woman you have become. You have grown into someone who is strong and independent, a fighter to the end.

  I wish you all the happiness in the world, and I know you will find it with Brent. Never have I seen you smile as much as when you’re with him. He’s a good man. He will take care of you and never let you down.

  You deserve the world, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he will give it to you.

  I love you and wish you and Brent so much happiness, and a bright future.

  Congratulations on this wonderful day.

  With love,

  Dad

  My hand falls heavily to the side with the note held loosely between my fingertips. I gaze out the window at the songbirds perched on the tree, flirting and flapping against one another on a branch.

  There have been two men of significance in my life—the one who raised me the best he could despite all his demons, and the one who is waiting for me now, willing to hold my hand forever. The product of one man is now the responsibility of another.

  Some days are meant to be reminders of your life for the rest of your life. Today is one of those days.

  This is our day.

  On this day, I will say, “I do,” to the man who found me when all I was searching for was a way out. I should have known then that what I was looking for was standing right in front of me.

  Over the years, I have thought many things about who I was, what I was trying to be, and what I wanted out of life, only to learn that I knew nothing. Brent saw through my facade, the one I had no idea I was carrying, and dug deep to find the woman inside. Our story is nothing like those in fairy tales, but our love is, and it’s the foundation of our forever.

  This day is also an ending to part of my life. My father is surrendering part of his care to another, saying good-bye to a chapter in both of our lives. He is the first man I ever loved and the first man to love me unconditionally despite all the hardships we have faced together. He is not here in body, but he is in spirit.

  Today is a day of beginnings and endings, but it is connected through love.

  I fold up the piece of paper and wrap it around the stem of my bouquet so that in spirit he can walk me down the aisle in some way. Checking my hair and face in the mirror, I wait until it’s officially time, focusing on the first moment I ever met Brent. That memory is one that will live with me forever. I first interpreted the look on his face as confusion, but it wasn’t. It was realization. He knew we were meant to be before either of us would admit to such a thought. It just took me a little longer to catch up.

  “It’s time,” Mara gently says as she peeks through the door. “You ready?”

  “I am.”

  She extends her hand and leads me outside to wait for the procession. Mara peers around the corner, gets her signal, and then quickly kisses me on the cheek.

  “See you down there,” she says.

  “Save a space for me.”

  “You bet.”

  She steps around the foliage, out of sight, and I begin to count to thirty as instructed during our rehearsal. Preparing to walk down that aisle alone in honor of my father, I’m ready to meet the man I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.

  Twenty-eight.

  Twenty-nine.

  Thirty.

  I inhale a nervous breath.

  And I exhale a slow breath.

  I step out toward eternity. Around the maze of green bushes, I pause under the arbor adorned with seasonal multicolored flowers. The music changes, the guests rise from their chairs, and my gaze finds my heart in the sea of people.

  Resplendent in a black tux with his hair groomed perfectly, he claims me with a single look.

  I am home.

  ~Brent~

  Pure beauty stands before me. That’s all she is and all she’ll ever be. She’s the woman who captured my soul so many years ago and never gave it back.

  She’s a vision.

  Timid yet brave, she stands in pure white under the arbor. Her dark hair frames her heart-shaped face, one too perfect to be conjured by man. She’s a gift from the heavens.

  She beams.

  I smile.

  She’s about to take those steps, the final steps in joining me in our life together. We’ll be making our future as one, so she’ll never have to feel or be alone ever again. I’m going to be that person by her side—the one she leans and counts on, the person she can depend on for anything and never let her down, the man to carry her on through every journey in life.

  It’s a promise I made to myself and her father as well. It’s a promise I’m making to her, too.

  Seeing her silhouette at the end of the aisle, a realization takes hold. She takes one step and then another. She’s nervous. She’s by herself. She needs someone now.

  I’m not upholding that promise.

  Without another thought, I step around Cohen, off the podium, and down the aisle. In slow motion, I walk steadily toward my only person in the world. She halts midstep, and so does the music. I’ve scared her, and worry smothers her features.

  A few feet away from one another, it’s astoundingly evident how truly beautiful she is. She’s even more stunning up close. I try not to stare, but it’s not to be helped. My eyes love to caress her.

  I offer my hand, and she hesitantly takes it as I sidle up to her delicious form.

  “What are you doing?” Ruby whispers and then bites her bottom lip.

  She always does that when she’s overthinking, and it drives me wild.

  “I made a promise that I’m keeping,” I softly say in her ear. “One to myself and to your dad.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I promised that I would always be by your side, and that’s starting now. Let’s start our future together right here, and let me be the one to walk you down the aisle.”

  She gives me a dumbfounded look I’ve come to adore. She thinks I’m crazy, but I know her.

  “It’s not very traditional,” she says with the face of an angel.

  “Maybe not, but who cares?”

  “Not me.”

  I squeeze her hand, reminding her that I’m here and will always be here.

  Facing the reverend with her by my side and her arm looped through my own, we take our first steps as one toward the podium. The music commences again as our small gathering of guests watch us, together, come to the place where we shall be joined as husband and wife.

  At the end of the aisle, I lift her veil, exposing those devilishly engaging, warm brown eyes with flecks of amber that enrapture my entire being. I resist kissing her. It’s so damn hard, but I’m waiting for that moment—our first kiss as a married couple. I’ve been waiting for what feels like a lifetime to get her here, and I won’t deny us that sacred gesture.

  The reverend speaks, addressing the audience and us, but I hear none of it. My mind is elsewhere—on the curve of my bride’s mouth, the delicate shape of her collarbone, and her overwhelming magnificence. Her small hand in mine, because I never let it go, sinks further into my grip as the ceremony continues.

  I recall our earl
y days from long ago. She was so different then but still the same. My mind remembers her crimson cheeks on the day we met, the first time her soft coral lips touched my own, and when I saw her cry from the turmoil she and I were dealt, breaking my heart and making me feel so helpless.

  We’ve been through a lot. It was enough to challenge and break us but not enough to keep us apart forever. My life truly began when she walked into my world, and it will end with her by my side.

  The wedding is a simple one, as Ruby requested, and frankly, as I prefer. Our vows are traditional, tried and true, the same words that have been spoken by couples for hundreds of years.

  Exchanging rings, I place one on her dainty finger, and she places the platinum band around my own. It feels foreign, but I love the reminder on my hand. It’s an extension of her.

  Finally, the part I’ve been waiting for.

  “Now that Brent and Ruby,” the reverend states, “have given themselves to each other by solemn vows and the joining of hands with the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife.”

  Ruby gasps, joyful and almost overwhelmed. Her elation is so bright and pure, coming from a place deep within.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the reverend adds.

  Wrapping one arm behind the small of her back, I lure her in and plant my lips on her soft, sweet mouth. I try so hard not to dive in and consume all that she is, barely remembering that we are among family and friends.

  She’s my wife.

  She’s my life.

  This is our life.

  THESE DAYS

  ~Ruby~

  “How’s Sylvia?” I ask my father on the other end of the connection. “Are you two ever going to make it official?”

  “Now, now, no rush,” he playfully chides. “We just moved in together. And she’s doing well.”

  “I’m glad. I really like her, you know.”

  “Yes, I do. And I think she likes you, too.”

  It’s been a few years since my father was released from his prison sentence. He got out early on good behavior and has been doing well, given the circumstances. He was committed to making the best of his life, going through rehabilitation programs and finding work to keep him busy. Along the way, he met Sylvia, a lovely woman from a few towns over where he lives in Indiana near his brother, Jas. Sylvia and my father became acquainted one afternoon when he helped her with a flat tire. It sounds so cliché and romantic, but some stories just are. They’ve been together for a little over a year now.

  “So, when do you think you’ll be able to come out?” I ask while cutting up a pineapple.

  “I’m hoping soon,” he says. “Maybe in the next month or two.”

  “Well, tell Sylvia she’s invited, too. We’d love to have you both.”

  “She’d like that.”

  The refrigerator door quickly opens and shuts, and then high-pitched cackles ensue down the hall.

  “Hope! Fate!” I shout. “What are you two doing?”

  My father chuckles on the other end of the line. “They giving you trouble?”

  “As always. I should get going. I need to feed your granddaughters.”

  “Okay, you get going and give them my love.”

  “I sure will.”

  “Talk to you soon. Love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  We end the call. I wipe my hands on a towel and trudge upstairs to see what my little girls are up to. Hope and Fate are the blessings brought to us a little over six years ago.

  Once Brent and I were married and happily living together in California, life was simple and easy, forged forward by our love. Within that first year as husband and wife, his career took off faster than either one of us could have imagined. When his contract expired, the team offered him a new one with a sizable compensation. We’ve been a West Coast couple ever since.

  For me, I opted not to go to graduate school after all. Being by Brent’s side and my work at a women’s shelter was all that I needed. My life was content but not fulfilled. About two years after saying “I do,” we decided to try to have a family. It was a scary proposition at first, given our past trauma, but we felt prepared to handle whatever might come our way. It didn’t take long before I became pregnant, and we were both surprised, shocked really, to find out that I was carrying twins.

  The pregnancy was difficult in some ways because I was so worried, but the doctor constantly assured us everything was fine. Brent held my hand through every doubt, worry, and finally that joyful moment when our babies came into the world.

  When he held Hope in his arms, he said, “I always hoped this day would come.”

  To which I replied, “It was fate.”

  Destiny gave us and named our little ones. They were once so delicate and helpless, but as I walk down the hallway toward their room with their giggles echoing through the house, it’s apparent they’re as strong as ever.

  I knock once and open the door, finding both of them slipping into their swimsuits.

  “What are you two doing?” I ask.

  “Daddy’s taking us swimming,” Fate replies, pulling a strap over her shoulder.

  “He said he’s going to teach us how to dive,” Hope adds, pulling her dark hair into a messy ponytail.

  “Oh, is he?” I ask in the best mom voice I can muster. “I guess he doesn’t care that it’s December?”

  “Whatever, Mom,” Fate says in her little sassy voice, brown eyes full of mischief. “Live a little.”

  “Did you just tell me to live a little?” I ask, trying not to laugh at her spunk.

  “Yeah, Mom,” Hope sasses, swinging her hips like she’s twenty and not six.

  We’re in so much trouble with these girls.

  “Let your hair down. Chill,” Hope adds.

  I charge them both, snatch them up at their waists, and wrestle them onto one of the beds, tickling their small bellies. The sound of their joy brings me so much happiness.

  Releasing them from my playful torture, I say, “Go on. Go swimming. But lunch is soon.”

  They both run out the door and into the hallway.

  “Don’t forget to get a towel,” I call after them.

  Blowing a strand of loose hair away from my face, I observe their overly girlie room, full of memories from when they were babies. Pictures are scattered all along the wall, showing their growth. They’re getting so big and so fast.

  One image that always captures my attention is our first family photo. The girls were only weeks old when we had the black-and-white image professionally taken for announcements. It’s truly beautiful. We’re a family lying together, the parents overflowing with their contentment. The girls were so tiny and barely the size of a loaf of bread each. It captures so many things, but what exudes is Brent’s pure adoration. Those little girls brought out the best in him, and I didn’t think he could get any better.

  He’s more than anyone could ever ask for. Some days, even now, I wonder how I got so lucky to have so much—a man that loves me, a healthy and happy family, and a life that I love.

  These days are the ones worth fighting for.

  ~Brent~

  My girls with chocolate hair in unkempt ponytails come racing out of the house with their towels streaming behind them like capes. They’re such wild little things, always giggling and full of smiles, lighting up every room and my life.

  “Don’t run,” I warn. “You might slip.”

  “We know,” they both reply through laughs, slowing their steps.

  At the end of the patio, they drop their towels and join their brother near the sandbox, helping him to dig whatever treasure he has buried below. He loves to play pirates.

  With masks and float toys in hand, I open the pool gate and set the items on the nearby table. It’s a brisk day, likely too cool for swimming, but I don’t care. My girls want to learn to dive, and I’m going to teach them. I rarely get a lot of time off with the scheduled season and various cups, so today will have to be
the day. Besides, I turned on the heater for the pool, so we will be fine.

  “Swimming?” Ruby raises her brows as she exits the house.

  “Sure,” I state like it’s the obvious thing to be doing on a day like today. “You should join us.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She rubs her arms, indicating her subtle disapproval in regard to the weather, but it’s all for show. She’s not fooling me.

  “Lunch is soon by the way,” she adds.

  I approach the most beautiful woman in the world, slip my hand around her waist, and heatedly kiss her in the space right behind her ear. She softly sighs, but I hear it. That still makes her knees weak after all of these years.

  “Eww…Daddy kissed Mommy,” Fate sings.

  Ruby and I both laugh and then disengage, joining our children as they play together.

  “Are you two ready to learn to dive?” I ask, squatting between the girls.

  “Yes,” Hope screeches, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You’re the best daddy ever.”

  “Yes,” Fate agrees, jumping on my back. “Best dad ever.”

  “Geez,” Ruby says in a teasing tone. “I’ll be sure to enter you for Father of the Year.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  Rising, I carry both of my girls into the pool area. I toss them into the water one at a time as they playfully scream, water splashing everywhere. They’re both strong swimmers and paddle over to the ladder to wait for me to join them.

  “You listen to your dad,” Ruby advises and then kneels down to play with our little boy.

  I shrug out of my shirt and dive into the warm pool, swimming over to where Hope and Fate wait for me. We go over a few safety measures, and then I give them a few instructions about how to dive. Taking turns, they each plummet headfirst from the concrete side, getting better with each dunk. After a few plunks, we take a break, and they float around, gabbing on and on to each other about what dress they want to wear to the upcoming father-daughter dance at their school.