2022 WATTYS SHORTLISTED || After being forced into a marriage by her devoutly religious parents, Aspen's husband is diagnosed with a life-limiting illness, and she must find her purpose as well as fight feelings for her husband's nurse. || Aspen Wat...
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T W O Y E A R S L A T E R - J A N U A R Y 2 0 1 9
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At twenty years old, most people are still in university, finding their way in life, enjoying the last threads of youth before they go out into the big wide world of adulting. I remember when I first started university, I imagined throwing the shackles of a 'good Anglican life' off and enjoying alcohol, going out partying and studying hard so I wouldn't have to go back home with my tail between my legs to my parents.
I didn't expect to be finding myself at twenty, married and owning a flat with my husband of a year and a half. I remember when Joel and I stared at those two pink lines on a pregnancy test, we never imagined being pressured down the aisle just a few months later so that our 'sin' wouldn't have been in vain according to my parents. I remember her words now: 'you need to balance it out, Aspen. You cannot sin and continue living in such a state!'
According to my mother, we must be good; never lie, never have sex before marriage, never date anyone who isn't religious, and we cannot drink alcohol. Heaven forbid if I fell in love with another woman: 'God believes in Adam and Eve, Aspen. Otherwise, humans would stop existing.'
But over the years, I've come to realise that if Jesus and God do not expect us to be perfect, then why should we model ourselves for them and pretend to be something we're not? We're human and we get one life. If God doesn't want us to be perfect, then why shouldn't we drink alcohol... or have sex before marriage? If we don't commit a crime then surely, we're still modelling ourselves as good.
Having flaws and weaknesses, making mistakes and learning is what makes us human. If God made us human, and He is perfect, then why would He be God? Surely, He would want us to be flawed so that we aren't too much like Him.
My phone buzzes and I stare at the message. 'I saw this script earlier; shall I send it to your mum?' Joel sends over a picture of a quote from the Bible: 'He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favour from the Lord.'
I chuckle and message back: 'You do that, and she would probably send you to Vicar Mary for a baptism. I don't think she'd wash the sin off you, though.'
He replies with a laughing emoji, and I shake my head. These are the best moments; when we both joke around and forget how we got here. The stolen moments when we're in good moods, those moments where outside influences aren't mentioned, are sparse and fleeting but mean everything when they happen.
'On my way home,' he sends a minute later. In reply, I send him a heart emoji.
I stare at the unopened letter on the table – white against tan wood, taunting, obvious, contrasting – waiting for him to come home so we can both read it together. I know where it has come from. I know that handwriting. It's haunted so many dreams, it's preyed on everything about Joel and me since the day we made that fateful decision. It's the backbone of our relationship and everything we are, were and ever will be.
