‘I DO’
I whisper the words under my breath, my heart lodged in my throat. My whisper seems to have carried around the spacious hall though, because the crowd erupts into raucous applause and catcalls.
I look at you, all the love in my heart shining through my eyes. Our eyes meet briefly_ tears of joy threatening to spill out of yours.
You are perfect.
But I already knew that. Knowledge I acquired from seven years of witnessing it first hand _as your best friend, has shown me just how perfect you really are.
The Minister turns to you. I sense the anticipation coursing through your body. The impatience.
Yup, I know!
I know all your tiny quirks and body signals; those little signs that betray you to no one else but me. They don’t know you like I do, all these people. I remember you once joked about how fluent I was in your body language. How many times have I avoided a fight or rushed to your aid because your body told me to? I lost count over the years.
I know your eyebrows scrunch together when you concentrate. I know a vein becomes very visible on your forehead when you are happy _like right now. I know your right hand gets clammy with sweat when you are nervous, the way you angle your neck when you are confused, the way you rub your index finger and thumb together whenever you are irritated… I know you.
I love you!
I want to scream it so the world can hear. I want to disrupt the ceremony with colorful declarations of my undying affection for you. I want to live with you, die with you. I want to empty the vaults of my heart and pour out everything of value at your feet.
The priest rounds up his liturgy and I hold my breath. It’s time!
He asks you. ‘Do you take this man, Samuel Ameh, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, till death do you part?’
I stare at you, words at the tip of my tongue. Words I should have said years ago. Words I should have told you that night at Charity’s birthd….
‘I do’
You say. Staring into Sam’s eyes as you slip the ring unto his finger.
…and I am 1 second too late… two seconds… three seconds… four… five… six… seven… eight…
You and Sam kiss before an applauding crowd while I watch the biggest mistake I have ever made unfold in Technicolor before my eyes. My heart beats slower.
You practically glow with happiness _all smiles as you break apart.
For a second our eyes graze each other and lock on. For a second your smile falters _a question in your eyes.
I force myself to smile in reassurance and clap along with my fellow grooms men.
I am twenty nine seconds too late… and counting.
Thirty seconds… thirty one… thirty two… thirty three… thirty four… thirty five…
I want to walk up on that altar, go down on one knee and ruin everybody’s day, if it will give us a shot at a happily ever after.
I want to…
but I DON’T.
Thirty seven… thirty eight… thirty nine…
