OUR BROKEN BEGINNINGS

CHAPTER FOUR

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing. My mother wouldn't hesitate to slap me if she saw me losing control of myself. I was always meant to be prim and proper and if not, it was the hit on the bottom of my chin with a metal spoon for slouching or my thighs with a wooden stick for not walking gracefully enough. She used to tell me that to look like a flower, you had to act like one too.

Some things I was able to grow out of with age, but other things stuck with me.

I turned around once the footsteps stopped, and it became silent again. I hoped whoever had followed me decided to return to the reception, but there he was. Emerson was standing right in front of the open doors and didn't say a word. He simply looked at me the same way he had all night. The same puzzling look, like he couldn't figure me out.

"Stop looking at me like that."

He tilted his head slightly and rubbed the side of his jaw with his hand.

"Like what?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. I turned back around to face the Colorado mountains and put my hands on my hips. I closed my eyes and let the crisp air caress my face.

"Like you're confused."

"Well, I am."

"About what?"

A brittle laugh escaped him, and I didn't need to turn around to see that his face had become indifferent again.

"Everything, but mostly you."

I was sure my exhaustion was beginning to seep into my movements as I carefully walked towards the steps of the altar and took a seat facing him. I interlocked my fingers and placed my conjoined hands on my lap. My eyes found his face, and I didn't find the expression I was expecting. It wasn't a smile, but it was warmer. It looked like curiosity.

"I just can't figure you out. You agreed to this arrangement, and yet, you're miserable."

I made eye contact and took a deep breath before replying.

"I could say the same thing about you."

He started walking toward me, without responding, until he was right in front of me. He smelled of eucalyptus and pine needle, and it was intoxicating.

He pointed to the space next to me with his hand, "May I?"

I nodded and watched him as he sat down about a foot away from me. I continued to stare, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't. He just sat there and stared at the open doors of the building, dozens of feet in front of us. We must have sat there in silence for a few minutes before I briefly closed my eyes and began to stand.

"Look, the guests are probably wondering where—"

"Let them wonder." He turned his head and looked at me. "I am not miserable. I'm just confused."

"You've said that already."

"I'm confused about this," he gestured to the space between us, "about you."

"You've said that already too."

He rubbed the side of his jaw with his hand again, shook his head, and dropped it between his shoulders.

"What I mean is—I don't understand why you did this. You don't seem to want anything to do with me, and yet here we are—married."

I could tell him the truth, but I am not sure how he'd react, and I could lie, but then I'd have to keep up with my lie. I didn't know which choice to opt for, so I said the first thought that entered my head.