Graduation flew by easily enough as a result—giving me space to really soak it in and give it my all. Now we’re college graduates and officially out in the world—just like Aaron.
Which of course means Aaron and I have spent a lot of time lounging in our new home. Whether it’s on the couch watching TV—in the bathtub talking about nothing—or laid in bed coming over and over again—we’re there. My home. My fiancé. My life.
We host game nights and dinners with the Archer parents—we go hiking with the Cult Cuties group. Everything is so mundane, as if I’m living in a drama rather than in real life. Like I’m playing out my fantasies—my dreams. Every day is so perfectly normal and calm.
As Aaron drags his lips over my skin—as I drive through our neighborhood—as Fe and I grocery shop. It doesn’t matter the situation, it’s all so surreal—as if every single one of these moments is a pivotal one. One of those moments that set a split path and I’m choosing over and over again to keep this life.
And now—I’m choosing the path of walking down the aisle. Today we get married. I will no longer be tied to the Dickinson name. Just as I’ve always dreamed—even if it was in a differentcontext for some of the time—I will have the Archer family name. I will haveafamily.
The venue we chose is a few hours from Lancaster and UA—so it’s technically a destination wedding. We only chose it because the reception hall is essentially outside—the walls and roof are just vines and branches connected to a steel beams, and that felt like a dream to me. A huge dance floor and DJ stand in the center—tables and chairs sprinkled around—a bar in the front. We booked a caterer as well, considering the distance people are traveling to see us.
For the actual ceremony we hired a team to set up an outside altar a few hundred feet away from the reception hall and just outside of the main house of the event center.
It’s all covered in sunflowers, at Aaron’s insistence. He told me that I could do or change anything I wanted—but wehadto do sunflowers. They mean something to him and I really don’t mind, so they’re everywhere. Wrapped around the back of the pews—the altar—all around the reception hall. I decided it was a no on the bouquet which freaked Tina out, but I just didn’t want to carry it. End of story.
Our color scheme is pretty simple. Sunset colors.
My tux choice is very interesting to make up for the lack of fun coloring. My dress pants—because IamBenjamin after all—are high-waisted, obviously white, and the cuffs of the legs and waistband around my waist are bedazzled in a thin strip to look like diamonds. My button-up is as plain as day—white and buttoned all the way up the throat like a choking hazard—a white vest buttoned overtop. The suit coat isn’t a standard suit coat, but instead it has a mandarin collar, following the dress shirt up my neck and staying completely unbuttoned. Thin strips on the tips of the collar—the seams—and the cuffs are bedazzled to match the rest. And lastly—to really make it interesting—a white tie to sit up high on my neck with the shirt collar, tucked into the vest, bedazzled thickly and abit chunky in style. So, all in all, I am literally a prince or an angel. Whichever Aaron thinks of first.
At first, I wanted to go for a slutty bride vibe, but the girls of our group who went shopping with me convinced me to stay formal. In the end—I’m glad they coerced me. I can be sluttyafterthe wedding.
Looking in the full-length mirror now, I can feel my heart in my throat. My hair lays how it always does. A tad bit messy but mostly endearingly tame. My shoes are shiny white leather. I can see my bracelet when my arm moves and it peeks through my sleeves—the button around my neck proudly showcased on top of my vest—in between the flaps of the suit jacket.
I look nervous. I look sad. The overwhelmingly positive façade I’ve been projecting all day is starting to crumble. I know everyone is out there right now—seated on both sides of the altar. Aaron had them limit chairs to force his family to take up both sides, which I am incredibly grateful for and infinitely embarrassed by. Aaron is there at the altar waiting for me—waiting to bind himself to me forever and I have nothing to offer him but myself. Traditionally the bride is supposed to pay for the wedding, yet the Archer family covered every expense. I can contribute nothing to this family.
I’ve never even been a part of a family to know how to act with one. I know how to be Bear—the funny best friend. But a brother? A son? A husband? I don’t know—I’ve never been taught. I’m taking on so much, making promises I don’t know if I can fulfill. And if Aaron’s bedtime ramblings are true—he wants kids one way or another.
How am I supposed to be a father when I’ve only ever been beaten by mine? I don’t know how a dad is supposed to be—act, love. What if I end up just like him? What if I end up worse? I’m afraid. Staring at myself now—seeing this fear in my own eyes—my own shaking hands, there is only one thought keeping me from a panic attack. I still have time.Run.
I turn to the door.
“Benjamin.” Greg Archer is standing in front of the closed exit. He had come in at some point while I was wrapped up in myself. Well, that’s embarrassing.
“Oh, hey! Are they sending you to hurry me along?” I give him an awkward smile—a nervous laugh—wringing my fingers in front of me. “I just need a few more minutes, promise.” He stares at me for a moment and he looks so much like Aaron right now it’s kind of scary. I can’t read him.
“You’re going to run.” My eyes widen, my mouth opening and closing as I’m not too sure what to say. Because I was. “I can see it on your face. Why?” He’s so straightforward—no judgment—no anger. Some part of me cracks and a steady stream of honesty pours out.
“I can’t… I can’t be what everyone is expecting of me.” I tell him, running my hands through my hair, looking around the room so I don’t have to look athim.
“Like?”
“Like—I don’t know how to be a husband or a brother. Or a son, or a father.” I flinch at the last word—the implications—the embarrassing truths and admittance to how alone I truly am. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to be those things—but I don’t know how and with the examples I did have I might end up very, very bad at it.” I feel a relief start to form in me as I share these fears, as I dump them onto someone else.
“You just have to be Bear.” Greg says—and these words startle me—leave an impression on my skin and my bones. I whip my head to where he’s standing, and he gives me a small, sincere smile. “Do you love my son?” I can feel the emotion lodged in my throat, burning and burning me right up.
“I’ve never loved anything the way I love him.” There are tears falling from my eyes as I stare back at him.
“Then that’s enough. Everything else comes naturally. I know Aaron—I watched him enter this world—I watched his first step and heard his first word.” Greg starts to tear up with me, eyes drilling into mine. “I have never seen that boy love anyone else. Hehas been watching over you since you entered our lives. He followed you over a bridge, Bear.” A sob leaves my throat and I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle it.
“But I…” I clear my throat, take a deep breath and gather myself. “He gives me the entire world, fixes everything, protects me. I give him nothing.”
“Love. You give him love—purpose—happiness. You don’t have to beat someone up for him to know you love him. He knows—I promise you he knows.” I’m staring at the ground—running his words through my head—chewing on them, digesting them.
“I have no one else. This family is all I have. Is that okay? Is it okay to only bring myself into our new life together when he’s bringing all of you? All these amazing things?”
“Benjamin—” Greg approaches me, placing both hands on my shoulders. “Youarean amazing thing. You are more than enough.” When he wraps me up into a hug I freeze up—not quite sure what to do. I’ve hardly ever seen this man hug his own children, let alone give me more than the singular hug I received after Aaron woke from his coma. But as the seconds tick by and his grip tightens—like with all Archers—I begin to feel safe there in his arms. I relax, I breathe him in, I pretend for a moment that I have a dad—that he loves me—that he’s here with me on my wedding day to walk me down the aisle.
“Thank you.” I tell him against his shoulder and he pulls back, looking me in the eye.
