The beginning

A drunken comment at a farewell party, conversation that lasted the whole night and the following morning. Queasy from a hangover, but overwhelmed by the feeling that this was… special. Sleep in a spare bed, ever the gentleman.

A month passes, intense and without breathe. Skin and thoughts and fears are uncovered. Furniture is moved, and addresses changed, and a life together is planned; tentative, but with unspoken hope.

A holiday, the first, is to a small coastal town. It is winter and grey waves crash on beaches that only a few months before heaved with the sweat and shine and coconut slick of bikini clad bakers, naked before their god. But now, the cold hard sand spreads before the couple, embraced in their snug woollen love. Empty restaurants are candle-glow-flicker-warm, reflecting their faces and half-eaten meals. Hand in hand, lips to lips, they walk to the bridge and stare down at the fish fighting for their escape in the current, flowing over the tidal-submerged sand-bank.

Walking along the main street, past a dress shop, and a glance through the window. Inside, the bride is dressed in a traditional white dress, bridesmaids, barefoot and bra-strapped, surround her. The girl closest has her back to the window, exposing large floral cottontails through the unzipped dress. Completely unconscious of the conspiratorial smiles between passers-by.

Her: I’d never have a dress like that, if I were to get married. I mean, I wouldn’t be anyway. Getting married. But if I were, I’d rather wear something understated and not ‘wedding-y’ like that dress there.

Him: There’s a registry around the corner.

Her: A what?

Him: A marriage registry. Around the corner. I saw it earlier. We could…

Nervous laughter.

Her: Yeah, right. Funny lad. Ummm. Ohhhh. You were serious?

Him: A smile and a shrug.

Her: …oh. Ummm, not yet. Not never. But not yet. Is that ok?

Him: That’s ok.

He takes her hand as they walk on.