Down the Aisle

I never thought that I’d be pulling on a suit at the age of 18 to walk my partner of four years down the aisle. Never in a million years would it have crossed my mind that I would have to consider what tie would match the flowers and if my boyfriend would approve of the colour scheme. Of course he left me to do the decorations and help his mother pick out our songs and when to play them. Not being one for the little details, looking more at the grand scheme he’d left us all in a pickle when the date was set far earlier than any of us expected.

“Louis?” I swallow hard turning to my mum who’s dressed in a colourful summer dress “honey, you’ve done the buttons up wrong.” I look down at my shirt and sigh, a lump forming in my throat as I hurriedly try to undo them again. My hands shake so much I can’t get a grip on the small pieces of plastic and as I’m about to just give up and cry mum steps in shushing me and effortlessly doing it herself “Have you picked a tie yet?”

I shake my head, no. “It’s too hard” I whisper glancing at the two lengths of material hung over the headboard. “He just. I can’t d-“

“For Christ’s sake Louis, we’re going to be late. Anne said that he’s wearing a blue one so your silver one will match more than the green.” She tosses the material around my neck and ties a Winsor knot while I fiddle with the matching handkerchief meant to go in my front pocket. Tears begin to prickle my eyes despite my internal promise to not shed any tears today; I never intended to leave him waiting.

“I can’t do it.” I choke out throwing my head into my hands, what if I put him to shame, what if I’ve got it all wrong and don’t know him at all. What if he hates the white and blue roses and how the entire thing looks a little like a prom? What if my tux is too much and the songs I picked aren’t what he wants. What if I let him down again? The question whirls around my head making me feel sick and lightheaded.

“I know how scary this is honey” Mum sits down next to me and rubs her hand on my back comfortingly “you have to try and do this.” She pauses pointing to the picture frame on my bedside table, the picture showing us lying in the local park last summer; it was the day I promised to be there for him no matter what. A promise I’ve always tried to keep. “Do it for him. If you really want to leave once we’re there I promise I’ll bring you straight home okay? But you have to try, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I huff wiping my eyes and fold the handkerchief into my pocket. She’s right, if I don’t go I’ll live the rest of my life knowing I let the man I love down, left him at the alter and wasn’t there when he needed me. I reluctantly get off the bed to look myself over in the mirror. “Okay, let’s go.”

The drive to the church is agonising, mum manages to keep my rambling at bay and tries to keep me as calm as possible. She knows how tough the last few days have been. She’s seen the tears and tantrums and is still insistent that I’m doing the right thing. After hitting every traffic light possible the time clicks over to 11:06 as we roll into the car park, some would say we are fashionably late but frankly I doubt harry would agree.

I’m greeted with a relieved chorus of my name as I round the corner towards the entrance but then my eyes land on Harry, mum squeezes my shoulder and mummers that she’ll be inside waiting for me. I can feel his dad, Niall, Zayn, Liam and Ed’s eyes on me as I look at harry whose still in the back of the car.

I’m stuck staring at Harry’s bright eyes and gorgeous smile, his layered shirts and bandana being completely wrong for the occasion but it doesn’t matter because it’s him and he’s beautiful to me. I want nothing more than to go over there and pull him into my arms and kiss him, to hold him close and promise to never ever let go. I want to hold his hand as we walk down the aisle and to look into his eyes with butterflies raging in my stomach as I say ‘I do.’

But that’s not going to happen.

The reality of what we’re all doing dawns on me as the photo is moved away from the window. “Ready? You’re at the front Lou, I’ll be right behind you. It’s going to be okay.” Someone tells me but I can’t register who because it’s not going to be okay. It’s never going to be okay again. 

When I told him that one day I wanted to walk him down the aisle.
This isn’t what I had in mind.
I take the handle on the front left and together we hoist the casket onto our shoulders.