A Wedding Day Conversation

"A Wedding Day Conversation"

My submission for the 2024 750-word project. Exactly 750 words, less this header and the paragraph dividers, which for some reason, MS WORD thinks are, well, words.

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Mark slowly paced the anteroom, waiting for the ceremony to begin, when she came to him. He felt her arms slip around his waist; her cheek against his back. "Hello, sweetheart."

"Hi, Baby. Did you see her? I can't believe it."

"Yes. You've done a wonderful job raising her."

"I miss you." Simply said; a simple fact.

"I know."

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They grew up across the street from one another. Elementary school, middle school, high school. Jennifer and Mark. Joined at the hip.

They surprised exactly no one when they married soon after graduation.

They wanted a big family. After a year, they got worried. The doctor said nothing was wrong; it took time sometimes.

Then finally, wonderful news. Until two months later. The miscarriage. And then the second one. Mark held her and rocked her in his arms. "Honey, it's not your fault."

Holding each other, foreheads touching, "Let's try. Once more." Hands in a death grip, she nodded. And six months later, the third pregnancy. They worked through the fear and the nerves, and when she started spotting, they went straight to the hospital. Miraculously, it stopped, and several months later, the amazing gift of their daughter.

The doctor said she would be their one.

Katie. Her mother's image. Watching her grow. Reading story after story at bedtime. Teaching her to fish and ride.

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Katie was fourteen. He was watching her soccer game. Laughing with the other parents. Jennifer was running late.

He saw the ambulance scream past the field. Somehow, he knew. He slowly stood. "Mark?" asked Laura, one of the moms.

"Something... I..." his eyes never left the flashing lights. "Can you... Katie..." and he took off running for the parking lot.

The drunk driver crossed the center line. Taking his soulmate. His partner for... well, forever.

He sat in the darkened room, "I'm sorry, so sorry I wasn't there..." His crushing, overpowering guilt - laughing with friends while she was dying, alone.

Then, the pressure of slim arms around him. A gentle kiss on his cheek. "...it's not your fault..."

Incredibly, the smell of Shalimar that she always wore.

"If it weren't for Katie..." he sobbed.

"Shh, I know. But she needs you. I need you to be there for her."

"I will. I promise."

He and Katie were inconsolable, but they helped each other to recover. Whatever it took. For a few months, he would wake in the middle of the night to see a small shape curled up on Jennifer's side of the bed... brown hair peeking out from under the covers. Katie. He'd kiss the top of her head and she would mumble something. Gone in the morning.

Eventually, as they came to terms, as they put the pieces of their lives back together, she stopped coming, and he never said anything.

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"You remember when she'd run out onto the field, I'd shout, "Kick a touchdown, or 'Throw a homerun,' just to make her look back over her shoulder and grin. God, she looked so much like you..."

"Now that she's grown and almost married, it's time for you to move on, Mark."

He whispered, "No. I can't. I've loved you since we were eight. There will never be anyone else. I'm content; raising Katie has been the singular achievement of my life. All I did was imagine what you would do, and I had the answer. It works for me. For us."

"I don't want you to be alone, Mark."

"I'm not alone. I can call Katie, and I can talk to you whenever I want, and fish, and write about our life, and wait for grandkids."

"You'll write about us?"

"It's already in my head; I just need to put it on paper. And I will, I promise."

"Will you share it?"

"With Katie."

Silence for a little while. Her arms around him, not warm, but comforting all the same. Playfully then, one hand slid lower.

"Hey now, I have to walk Katie down the aisle in a minute."

A soft giggle.

"Sorry. I just miss you so much."

"Me too, Baby, me too. Will I see you again?"

"Whenever you need me."

A tear slipped down his cheek. "Always. I will always need you."

A feather-light caress. A whisper. "I'm always with you."

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"You ready, sweetie?"

"Who were you talking to, Daddy?"

She looked so beautiful, so like her mother.

"Your mom, punkin'. I was talking to your mom."

She looked up at him, then. "She talks to you too?"

He smiled.