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tefanfics · 4 years

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Chapter 51

“I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

I smiled softly at my reflection in the full length mirror. I could see my mom over my shoulder, her eyes red brimmed from the tears that had already fallen. I looked back at myself and took it all in.

The white gown hugged my upper body, a corset bodice and a sweetheart neckline. Lace covered the bodice and into the beginning of the skirt. From my hips, the skirt flowed outward. The skirt wasn’t huge but layers of tulle made it a little on the fluffy side.

I turned from side to side to make sure everything was sitting the way it was supposed to. I could see the bottom of the corset tied and in place before I looked at my hair. Groups of hair from the front were braided and pulled to the back, placed together as the rest of my hair made waves of red as it spilled down my back. My locket hung around my neck and rested against my bare skin above my chest.

Callie appeared at my side with the lace flats and sat them on the ground before helping me into them. Next was the veil. Mom came up behind me and used the small comb in to put it into place.

My heart was racing as I stood there. I was ready. I had been worried the morning sickness would show up today but so far everything had been just fine. I hoped I was past it. I accepted my bouquet of roses from Callie, surprised that my hands weren’t shaking. I thought I was going to be nervous but for the most part, I was pretty calm. Now all I needed was Dad to come get me.

I looked up as the door opened. My dad froze in his place as he spotted me. I could heard the photographer taking picture after picture of my parents and I. Finally my mom and Callie left the room and went to take their places inside the ceremony space.

“You look like a princess, sweetheart.”

I have a sheepish smile to my dad after accepting one more hug before we left the room.

We walked through the hallway and down a set of steps, nearing the door that led outside. Dad held the door for me as I stepped out into the breeze that showed signed of summer turning to fall.

I hooked my arm into my dad’s as we turned. There was a big white gate that would open and reveal us to the aisle as soon as our cue came.

As we stood in front of the gate, my nerves began to rise. This was it. This was the day I was getting married. And not only that, but I still had a little secret. Callie was the only person who knew still. The plan was to tell Taron today but I was suddenly wondering if I should have told him the second I found out. I glanced at my dad, about to tell him but then the gate opened.

I looked down the aisle and my eyes landed on Taron just as Rosie and Mari dropped the last petals from their baskets. And just like that the nerves melted away. All I could do was smile as we started toward Taron. I could feel all eyes on me but it didn’t matter.

I could see Taron’s smile twitching and the way his eyes were sparkling have it away he was trying not to cry. Which only triggered tears of my own. I sniffled when we neared the end of the aisle.

My dad declared he and the family were giving me away, to which he placed a kiss on my cheek before putting my hand in Taron’s.

I grinned at the touch of Taron’s fingertips against my palm. I blinked back tears as he reached up and wiped his own again.

“Beautiful,” he mouthed to me as we took our spots in front of the officiant.

It was hard to pay attention to the officiant as I stood there looking at Taron, hand in hand. Butterflies in my stomach were going wild. I was so beyond giddy and excited. I wanted to skip to the end of the ceremony so I could kiss him, to feel his arms around me and being close to him. But it had to wait.

Finally the officiant gestured to Taron. He took the ring from his best man, Jack, and turned his attention back to me.

“I almost wish I had written my vows down now,” he laughed. “You’re so stunning and I’m just- I’m absolutely speechless.” I giggled quietly, sniffles still showing up as our guests laughed with us. “Rose, you are… Wow. Hang on. Just let me admire her for a second please.” Taron grinned, taking a step back as he continued to hold my hands. “Okay, that’s better. You are more than I could have ever hoped for. I love the way you care for me, the way you give me that assurance when I need it. I’m so inspired by the way you follow your passions. With your writing and your photos, I adore the artwork you create. You put your whole heart into everything you do and god, I just- I’m thankful that I get to put my whole heart into you. You’re so strong and perfect to me and- and I’m rambling,” he chuckled, tears in his eyes again. “Rose, I love you more than I know how to put into words and I thank the universe every day that you came into my life. That night at Abbey Road, there was something that just clicked. You took my hand and we stood on that bench to watch that band. The way you got excited over it, the way you sang to every song and then you turned around and danced with me. I fell head over heels that night and I promised myself I would do anything to make you happy. And that’s my promise today. I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives. I promise I’ll never push you to be someone you’re not. I promise I will always love you for the wonderful woman that is you. I promise to put you first. I promise to always be your shoulder to cry on. I promise to dance in the living room with you when you’ve had a bad day. I promise to always make you feel like the most loved woman in the world. I can’t wait to call you my wife and for us to start a family today. I love you.”

Tears were streaking down my cheeks as Taron slid the wedding band on to my finger. He reached up and wiped the tears from my face before doing the same for himself. I took his ring from Callie and looked back at him. “How do I compete with that?” I teased. He let out a soft laugh and shrugged, showing a sheepish smile. I took a deep breath, hoping that the shakiness would leave my voice. “Thank you for loving me. There was a time where I found myself saying, “This is it. It doesn’t get better than this.” But I was so wrong. Taron, you’ve shown me that love doesn’t have stipulations. Love doesn’t mean forfeiting the things you want to make the other person happy. No, love is helping one another achieve those things. Encouraging each other to make their dreams happen. You’ve shown me what it means to be happy- truly happy. Whenever I get scared, I know you’re there. I know that you’ve got my back and there isn’t anything I can’t do without you beside me. I promise I’ll always have your back. I promise that I’ll always push you to reach those goals you set. I promise to stay up late when you have a late flight home so I can greet you with open arms. I promise make you happy, Taron. I love you so much.” I gulped as I put the ring on his finger and met his gaze again.

The officiant spoke after us but now I truly couldn’t hear a word he was saying. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Taron and he was the exact same. The smile he wore- I embedded that into my mind the best I could. The way he made me feel right then and there, I wanted to feel that forever.

“Taron, do you take Rose to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do,” he said, a grin a mile wide as he gave my hands a gentle squeeze.

“Rose, do you take Taron to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do!” I said almost a little too quickly. My cheeks turned red as Taron laugh.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Taron, you may kiss your bride.”

“Finally,” Taron muttered as he pulled me to him. His hands found my waist slower than his lips met mine.

This was it. This was the kiss every girl dreamed of when they were young. The one that made me feel like I was the only person in the world. The one that made me melt. The one that showed me just how loved I truly was.

My hands rested on Taron’s chest as we stayed liplocked in front of all of our friends and family. Slowly I began to pull away, Taron’s forehead resting against mine.

“Hi, Mrs. Egerton,” he whispered to me.

I smiled widely, cheeks red as could be as I looked at him. “Hi.”

Taron grinned at me as we spaced ourselves as the music began for us to walk back down the aisle. The next hour flew by. Between photos with our families and the small wedding party, then photos of just Taron and I, I hardly had any time to think about the secret I had to tell.

As we stood outside of the reception area, Taron pulled me in close for a welcome embrace. I took a minute to close my eyes and just breathe.

“Thank you,” I murmured against him.

“I could tell you needed it,” he answered in a happy voice. Taron kissed the top of my head as I opened my eyes. I looked up at him to accept another kiss. “Today has been amazing.”

I nodded in agreement, standing on my tiptoes for yet another kiss. “And now we get to celebrate.” I smiled as I leaned away enough to see through the door. Guests were settling into their seats. There was a second where I thought I was going to get sick and I wasn’t sure if it was due to the small amount of nerves that still lingered or if the morning sickness was maybe its presence known. My eyes grew wide as I took a deep breath and looked at Taron. I needed to tell him. “T, I have something I ne-“

“Wait, babe- It’s our turn to come out!” Taron said quickly as we heard someone come over the speaker to the guests.

“May I introduce to you for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Taron Egerton!”

I couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at my lips as I heard the DJ introduce us. Taron looked at me and smirked.

“You like that, don’t you?”

I laughed and nodded again, offering my own sheepish grin back. Taron took my hand as we entered the reception hall. We walked straight to the dance floor. I handed my bouquet off to Callie as Taron and I took our spots in the middle. I could feel on eyes on us as the music started.

Both of us began to smile as the beginning notes of And I Love Her started. It had been a no brainer what song would be the one for our first dance as husband and wife. It was the song that we had danced to that first time in his apartment. The one that we always seemed to find one another when it played. It was ours.

My head rested against Taron’s chest as we danced. I could barely hear his heartbeat over the song. I pulled away and looked up at him, the smile finding my lips again. I locked eyes with him, feeling incredibly overwhelmed in the best way possible. I could feel how much he loved me just by the way he looked at me. I no longer felt like a school girl with a crush when Taron looked my way. More like an incredibly luck woman who had won the best prize possible.

“I love you,” Taron said just loud enough for me to hear. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead before finding my lips.

The song was coming to an end and I couldn’t contain it any more. I pulled away from Taron and took a deep breath. “So we’re going to need that nursery sooner than we thought.”

“What?” Taron tilted his head just a little, an eyebrow arched as he looked at me. I watched as my words started to sink in. “Wait… You mean?” Taron’s gaze moved from my eyes down to my stomach.

I nodded slowly, emotions starting to rise in my chest. “Yeah,” I said softly. “You’re going to be a dad, T.”

I wasn’t prepared for the kiss that followed. Taron’s hands cupped my face as he pulled me too him, smiling all the while. I pulled away to see a couple of tears slip from his eyes and his hand found the bottom of my stomach. “Rose,” he sighed before giving me another kiss. “Husband and father in one day? What more could a man ask for?”

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dripthestory-blog · 6 years

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I’ve been at my desk for 23 of the last 24 hours. That’s nothing to boast about; I’m clearly overdoing it. The fact that I know I’m overdoing it does absolutely nothing to change the fact that my mind won’t let me sleep, won’t let me quit. Tonight I learned what it means to bleed for my art. I literally worked my fingers bloody. I just couldn’t stop. I don’t know why; I’m so compelled to draw, it’s like this feeling inside my chest, this clawing thing, and when I stop I can’t think of anything else.

This is what bleeding for art feels like.

My wife came home from a friend’s dinner party around midnight. She’d had a few drinks throughout the evening, her mood was good. She was happy to see me.

“Come to bed,” she said. “I’ll feed you.”

Could she have known I hadn’t eaten all day? Did J tell her? Do wives gain some sort of sensibility about these things over time?

I don’t think I raised any flags today at work, but just in case—a reminder:

Dear Self,

Eat lunch today. Try to seem happy for J. If he starts raising concerns to the wife, all shall be lost. She’ll endeavor to make us sleep, and we can’t work if we’re sleeping. We dream best when we’re awake.

Love,

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I’ve become very skilled at laying awake until I know she’s sleeping soundly next to me. When I hear her breathing change, I get up slowly—careful not to wake the dogs—and slip out of our bedroom. Tiptoe up the stairs, until my office door clicks shut behind me, and I’m free to work again.

That sounds a lot worse than it is. I love my wife very much. She is the entire reason for everything I do; my inspiration, my muse. I want to spend time with her. But these days, something else drives me. It’s become something of an obsession.

15 days

I started drawing on May 28th. Maybe that sounds unbelievable. I have photographic evidence if you’d like to see it. I’ll sign an affidavit.

The last time I really drew anything was in the 9th grade. I shared the 1st period of the day with a girl named R, a senior and fellow musician. I’d known her for some time and was quite fond of her. It was just the two of us in the class; an independent study. We helped our choir teacher grade papers or sort old sheet music. Meanwhile, I developed a steady crush on R.

We had this comic we would draw every day. We called it The Adventures of R & R. It was terrible. We laughed and doodled away the mornings the entire first semester of high school. In hindsight, those were some of my fondest memories of high school.

Later that year, R graduated and left for college. I found her at the ceremony and gave her the comic, which I’d bound with glue and staples and covered with a plain white folder, aptly labeled “The Adventures of R & R” in big letters across the cover.

Years later, R found me in a bookstore on campus. She was teaching music, and she asked if I’d like to meet for coffee. I was delighted. I agreed to meet her later that evening. We met on campus and walked to the coffee shop together. It wasn’t until we sat down that she told me about the surprise.

“I have something for you,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

Her smile made me nervous. Did she know about my crush? Was she going to kiss me? Would she tell me she’d had a crush on me all along, that she’d been waiting these last four years so I could join her and we could live happily ever after?

It’s only fair to point out here that I had a serious girlfriend at the time of our meeting, a high school sweetheart, and I was in direct violation of the established boundaries of that arrangement; however, being eighteen and horny and alight with the possibility of fulfilling a years-long fantasy, I forewent the bonds of my relationship and decided that whatever happened, happened. In retrospect, part of me feels like a scumbag, and part of me, the romantic part of me, gives a cheesy thumbs up at the camera before tossing back a tall glass of sangria.

“Close your eyes! Okay, keep them closed. No peeking.”

“What is it?”

“Hush. Open your hands. Okay, you ready?”

“Ah, shit.”

“Open your eyes.”

It was better than a kiss.

“The Adventures of R & R.” My first (and last) daily comic, and my only attempt to ever draw regularly, albeit only for fun.

Fast-forward. Scrub almost fifteen years ahead. Stop. Roll footage.

That horny teenager in the coffee shop with a makeshift comic book in his sweaty hands seems to have lived and died a hundred lifetimes ago. Yet here we are, doodling away the mornings…

Only, this time things are different. The girl has changed. This new girl is so much more. A high school crush could never hold a candle.

These days I write poetry and stories and occasionally pen an essay for an online publication or two. I run my own business and have no time for doodling beyond the necessitated dry erase sketch, something quick; at the moment, that’s all I really have a need for. The spontaneous sketch is perfect for dredging up some creative sparks or even perhaps rousing my sleepy partner out of a fog.

Certainly nothing of the serious variety, these doodles.

And then, May 28th happens.

There’s nothing in particular worth mentioning about that day, except that like most days, I was up late writing, working on the DRIP narrative. For some reason, I felt a stronger-than-usual urge to draw, so I pulled out a sheet of printer paper and a fountain pen.

I created my first stippling illustrations that day. I didn’t even know the word for “Stippling.” My business partner saw the piece when he came into the office later that morning. He’s an art school graduate and was happy to show off some cool resources where I could see more examples of this style of art.

In the last fifteen days, I have created more than two dozen original illustrations. Some of them are more intricate than others; a few of them are fairly elaborate, like yesterday’s piece:

“Sabbat de Luna”

With zero arrogance whatsoever, I want to say that I’m very proud of the work—and the progress—I’ve made in the last fifteen days. Truth be told, I’ve dreamed of being able to draw my whole life. Growing up with comics and graphic novels was torture. I wanted so badly to be the guy drawing badass Batman comics in the margins of his notebooks during class; instead, my skills were largely limited to stick figures and basic shapes. I couldn’t even draw a straight line. I still feel I have trouble with perspective.

Yesterday, I read “Perspective Made Easy” by Ernest R. Norling. It’s a marvelous guide to the line of sight, the horizon, and perspective by way of breaking complex shapes and structures down into more basic forms. If you’re interested in learning how to draw, pick it up on Amazon.

After reading the book in the early hours of the morning (it’s a quick read, and a page-turner. I went through the entire book, even with some of the exercises, in about two hours) I decided to play with perspective, shading, and horizon.

I’d had this scene in my head:

Night. A silver-lit field. Empty sky, save the moon, which shines full and bright above. Four hooded figures dance around a short flame. A drum beats softly in the darkness. The figures are humming as they dance. From the shadows emerges a ram carrying on its back a host of temptations and decadence. The figures worship the Ram. They succumb to its offering, and eventually, themselves become an offering.

I didn’t want to do the scene with a basic drawing of a field and hooded or robed figures. That’s too on-the-nose (as J would say) and it’s been done countless times.

I decided to start a stipple. Rather than start from the corner or the edge of the page, I broke another personal comfort zone guideline and began dotting near the center of the page, just off to the right. I turned the sketchbook every direction as I traced until I had about an inch covered in dots. Then I dropped to a much smaller pen and started filling in the spaces.

I’ve used this same technique to create all the new illustrations I’ve made since May 28th.

I have no idea how I’m doing it.

If you know, or if you can explain it; if you’d like to wager a guess; if you’d like to call me a liar, please. Step right up. Drop me a line in the comments.

I’ve had dozens of friends reach out over Snapchat and Instagram and Text message in the last two weeks.

“How are you doing this?”

“Where is this coming from?”

“I didn’t know you could draw!”

Well, funny you should mention it…

I can’t.

Or, at least, I couldn’t.

Until May 28th.

A secret fear:

What happens if I wake up on June 28th and it's gone? Easy come, easy go? Will I fight? Will there be consequences?

Something inside me needs this. I can’t explain it, so I’ll stop trying.

It’s 5:03am here in the US (eastern time), and a thunderstorm has taken to beating on my window. I think I’ll open up and let it in.

I need to clear my head and mildew the carpet a bit.

Until next time, love.

Bleeding for art. Letter to Myself. A Secret Skill. 15 Days. The Ritual. Thunderstorms. I've been at my desk for 23 of the last 24 hours. That's nothing to boast about; I'm clearly overdoing it.

#art #balance #bizarre #creativity #drawing #illustration #insomnia #learning #life #love #stippling #surreal

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