Philippa Keenan: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not.

He loves me.

‘How to know that you are in love’.

 ‘You can’t stop staring at them.’

Check. When I see him, everything else in that room goes dark, it’s like he’s the only thing that matters, he is the only thing that matters.

‘Time flies by when you’re together.’

Check. I’ve known him for eleven years, it feels like it’s all gone by in a couple of seconds.

‘You want to touch and kiss them.’

Check. The way he holds me in his arms makes me feel on top of the world, I never want it to stop. And when he kisses me, it feels like gold dust falling on my lips.

See, I am in love. It’s normal to get cold feet before your wedding, right? It’s normal to feel like your life is ending, right? I love him. I’ve loved him since we were sixteen. We grew up together. We got each other through the end of high school, college, my mom dying, his dad leaving. He’s the only boy I’ve ever loved.

Which makes me wonder; what if I had never met him? Maybe I would’ve became a doctor like I’ve always wanted to, and not a useless girl with a useless degree because, ‘why should you need a job if I can provide for us?’ Or maybe I would have travelled the world, gone to all the places I’ve always wanted to go to but ‘I have to finish my law degree, maybe we can travel another time’. I never planned on being the ‘trophy wife’, but here we are.

Its not like he isn’t good to me; anything I want I always get. Whether it’s a Chanel bag, or Dior perfume, or this massive rock on my finger. He ‘provides’ for me, we live in a big penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. It’s a dream. We have five bedrooms, one for me and him, three for our future kids and a guest bedroom. It always feels cold in the house, he’s never home, just me in a big house myself. Maybe it will feel like a home when we have kids.

He loves me, he always tells me that. But sometimes, sometimes I don’t feel like he does. It didn’t use to be that way. But once he started working, he became angrier. He wasn’t the sweet boy I fell in love with anymore. Then it got worse: one day after a long day in the office he came home, dinner had taken a bit longer than usual and wasn’t ready. I’ve never seen him get so mad. It took me a while to cover the bruise, slowly I got better at covering them. No one knew, no one knows.

I’m getting married in an hour. I need to decide, do I go to the wedding, get married, have kids, grow old with the ‘love of my life’? Or do I run away, start fresh, travel, become a doctor? But who am I without him? The only ‘friends’ I have are the wives of his friends. The only source of money is from his pay check. The only life I’ve ever had is with him.

Suddenly I’m back in the room; I must’ve spaced out because now my hair and makeup are done. I wanted to wear my hair up, but he prefers it down. The room is in panic, we must be running late. I have 3 bridesmaids; my little sister, his big sister and my best friend. His mom is here running the show. Thank God for her, because she basically planned the entire wedding, apart from my dress.

My dress. It’s the dress I’ve dreamed of ever since I was a little girl. It’s slim fitting, mermaid shape, with a long train. It has white roses patterned all the way down it, it’s perfect. It’s the perfect dress, for the perfect wedding, for the ‘perfect’ marriage. ‘We’ve got to go! We’re running so late!’ I hear his mom shouting from down the stairs. We rush out of my room, down the stairs and into the limo.  

My hands are shaking. I’m really doing this. I’m signing myself away to this man, this life. Cooking dinner, gossiping with other wives, waiting for him to come home at night. Or finding out about his mistresses, covering bruises, convincing myself that he loves me. We are almost outside the church, the girls have music on, champagne is in everyone’s hands.

‘Why is everyone standing outside the church?’

Silence

Every head turns and looks towards the church. I can hear my heart pounding. My legs are shaking. Every girl is looking at me for answers, I am looking at his mom. We link eyes; she looks as worried as I am.

His mom orders the limo driver to stop. ‘Wait here I’ll find out what is happening.’ She opens the door and gets out.

The chat between the girls continues, more champagne is poured, more gossip is spilt. I don’t join in, however; I watch his mother as she approaches one of the ushers. The usher puts one hand on her shoulder, pulls her in and whispers in her ear. She looks at the limo and looks back at him.

Slowly she walks towards the limo and opens the door. ‘Can you all get out, please?’

She sounds pleading; something bad has happened.

The girls are slowly budging out and taking their champagne with them. It’s just me and his mom sitting there now.

She is upset, she’s crying.  

‘He’s not here, they can’t find him anywhere’.

He loves me not.