A Fugacious Marriage

When I met her, I knew she was the one. It's like that Mhairi McFarlane quote: "It was...not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you." It took me five minutes to get my ass to walk over and talk to her, three days of nonstop talking and texting before I asked her to be mine, and just a little over seven months to get down on one knee and propose. Crazy? That's what everyone told us. And we were. Crazy in love. Sure, she frustrated me more than a jammed vending machine at times, but she made me the happiest I've ever felt in my life. She knew more about me in the eight months that she'd known me than people who've been by my side since I was a child. She was the missing piece in the puzzle that is my happiness.

I've never been this happy in my life. I didn't know this type of happiness existed. It just doesn't feel real. So it feels like a dream, me standing at the altar and watching the most beautiful angel walk into the room. She's absolutely stunning. The dress looks like it was made for her. I can't help it when tears start flowing from my eyes, I just can't believe that this is actually happening. "Fairytale" by Ludovico Einaudi starts to play, she's wanted this song played at her wedding ever since she was ten years old. She starts to slowly walk towards me, it looks like she's gliding, like that one night when we ice-skated on the frozen lake, laughing and falling over dozens of times, and then fell asleep in my car after watching the stars for what felt like hours. Before I know it, she's right next to me.

"Don't think I didn't notice those tears, you owe me fifty dollars", she whispers, a smirk on her face. But her eyes are soft as she looks at me. I decide to let the comment slide.

"Let's do this thing love, shall we?", I ask, giving her a smile and taking her small, soft hand into my own. She smiles at me, and nods. I see tears start to pool in her eyes, but I know she won't let them trail down her face. She'd be too angry at herself for ruining the makeup that took two hours and three women to apply.

I barely pay attention to what the priest is saying. I can't help but look next to me, at the woman who is crazy enough to love me, to want to marry me, and spend the rest of her life with me. I repeat what the priest tells me to repeat, tears starting to pool in my eyes yet again. All I hear is her soft voice saying "I do", as she looks me in the eyes and starts a fire in my heart. A small drop of water falls onto my nose. Then there's another one that falls onto my hand. She notices it too, and looks at me quizzically. We both look up. It's starting to rain. But how? We're inside a Church, I don't think that's supposed to be happening. Within a minute, it starts to pour, big, fat droplets of rain falling from above us. She laughs and raises her arms up, and when I look at the audience they don't seem fazed by it.

"Oh just kiss me already!", she exclaims, a huge smile on her face, the water smearing her makeup. I forget the rain for a second, and reach over for her, smiling.

Before I have a chance to touch her, a wave of water envelops us all. I hear screaming. I look around, trying to find something to hold on to, trying to find her. But I can't. She's gone. The water is freezing and my teeth are chattering, but I keep on swimming, frantically trying to find her. I turn around and there's another wave of water behind me, and I don't have enough time to catch my breath before it crashes over me. I'm under the water, but I see a face above me, above the water. I use the last of my strength to swim up towards the surface, towards the face. The closer I get, the groggier I feel; the lack of oxygen must be messing with my mind. I finally break through the water.

"Oh! Mr. Brooks, you're awake! Doctor! The patient has regained consciousness!", the woman shouts, making my head hurt.

"Where is she?! Is she alright?! I have to see her!", I frantically try getting out of the bed that I find myself in, but it feels like I've had all the strength drained from me.

"Mr. Brooks please calm down", she says, gently pushing my shoulder so that I'm laying down. "You're at the hospital. You've been in a terrible accident. You've experienced quite severe head trauma and been in a coma for about a month. You might not remember what happened. Given the severity of trauma, you might be experiencing some memory loss."

"You don't understand! I need to see her! Is she okay?!"

"Who?", she responds, looking quite perplexed.

"My wife!", I snap.

"Oh Mr. Brooks, I'm sorry", the woman says, a look of sadness overcoming her face. "You were on a plane heading to Paris. The pilot experienced some difficulties and the plane crashed into the water, two miles away from the shore of France. All 854 people on the plane perished. You're the only one who survived the accident."

Paris? That's where we were planning to go on our honeymoon. I try to remember what happened, but it's all blank and my head just hurts. Wait.

"What do you mean by "you're the only one who survived the accident"?", I ask the woman.

"I'm sorry Mr. Brooks", she says, "your wife is dead".