Page 30 of Hidden Vows
I stand there for a few more seconds, watching him stuff his hands in his pockets, his eyes never leaving mine, before turning and marching away.
What the hell was that?
—
June 18, 2018
Do you remember the day we got married? Of course you do. Maybe the better question is, do you wish you could forget it?
I don’t.
Even with everything we went through after, I wouldn’t change marrying you for anything. I hate that we’re not celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary today. I hate that instead of spending the day with you, I spent it wallowing in self-pity.
We’re living in a world I forced upon us, and ten years later, I still don’t know if it was the right call.
When you walked into the courthouse, you took my breath away.
We were both so young.
We may have been adults in the eyes of the law, but we were still children—we were teenagers getting married.
I know our wedding was nothing like you ever imagined, but it was ours, and my love for you was unyielding.
I know you don’t believe that, but it’s the truth. My love for you has never wavered, and it never will.
The lookin your eyes when we exchanged our vows—I’ll never forget it. If I ever doubted your love for me, all of it was wiped from my memory when you looked at me standing before that judge.
I know how badly you wanted your mom and my dad there, but it was the right call leaving them in the dark the way we did. It kept them safe.
You gave me my wish for traditional Irish vows, and in return I broke your heart. I wish I’d done better. I wish I’d been better.
Ten years later, these vows are still true, no matter what you might think.
I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine, from this day it shall only be your name I cry out in the night and into your eyes that I smile each morning; I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine, never shall a grievous word be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life and into the next.
thirteen
JUDE
“Come on, Dad.”My eyes never leave his face as I lean forward, taking his hand in mine. “I need you to wake up. I need your wisdom.” My grip tightens, hoping he’ll respond in kind. It’s only when he doesn’t that I let my eyes fall on our clasped hands.
Laying his hand flat on the bed, I let my fingers trace over the tattoos across his knuckles. He’s had these tattoos my entire life, but I’ve never paid much attention to them. I remember asking him about them when I was young, but the true meaning of the symbols never resonated with me—not until I started getting tattoos of my own.
On his thumb, he got the Irish harp to represent joy, music, and celebration. Dad always said the Irish harp was meant to bring prosperity and health.
On his index finger, to bring protection, he got the Triskelion to represent the physical world, the spiritual world, and the afterlife—the idea that life will always carry on.
On his middle finger, he placed a shamrock—one of the most common symbols of his heritage—to represent good fortune and bring good luck.
On his ring finger, instead of wearing his wedding band, he got the Dara Knot to symbolize the union of two people—to bring happiness.
And finally, on his pinky, he placed the Celtic cross. He could never tell me exactly what it meant, but he liked to say it represented knowledge, strength, and the compassion to manage life’s ups and downs—for life would always have many ups and downs.
“I guess we’re going through a pretty big down right now, aren’t we?” I whisper as I trace the final tattoo. “I don’t know what to do. I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if it’s right.” I let my hands fall back to my lap, clasping them tight. “I shouldn’t have listened, but I heard her talking to you. I know there are still feelings there.” I fall back into my seat, my eyes moving to my dad’s face. “Who am I kidding? I didn’t need to hear her talking to know that. I see it every time she looks at me.”
Abbey may have said we can only ever be acquaintances, but how her body melted at my proximity tells a different story. I know she wants her words to be true, and I should respect that, but I’ve never stopped loving her, and the idea that I might have a chance to have her in my life again is something I can’t pass up.
My need for Abbey is as strong as my need to breathe.
