My life didn't begin until I met Eliza.
I didn't start living until I knew her name, and as long as my side was occupied by her stunning presence, I would not die. Her smile alone was a beacon, attracting all of my focus to solely her. In everywhere she went, in everything she did, I noticed the way her soul danced behind her eyes, and it never came short of captivating me. When she turned her head, her blonde hair—which appeared pink in certain lighting—fell over her shoulders in a manner that only curly hair could accomplish, and her gaze met my own: a grin automatically illuminated her face, and I wondered to myself what she could see that caused such a powerful reaction.
The white dress perfectly captured Eliza's pure, weightless essence, and the bouquet of white flowers represented her innocence. My black suit allowed her to be the center of attention and rightfully so, because this was her moment. It might have been my wedding, too, but this day was hers. She was the one walking down the aisle with her very own theme singing out from the piano, the one given a carpet of rose petals to walk upon, the one stealing the gazes of all in the gathering. Most of all, she was the woman who won my heart.
"Jamison Harper Jones, I have dreamt of this day since I was a little girl," My soon-to-be-wife spoke, and I noticed her hands trembled as they held the note she had written for her vows.
I reached out, and I cupped my hands around her own in an attempt to comfort her, even just a little.
"My best friends— they're here," She took in a deep breath, her eyes already shimmering with tears as she looked to her bridesmaids for a long moment before turning her gaze back to me, "Under the old oak tree that was planted outside of the baseball field…Do you remember? In middle school?"
I nodded.
"Under that tree, my girls and I would watch you practice on the field every afternoon that the weather would provide, and— I thought you were so good," She sniffed, paused, and wiped away a couple of tears that slipped down her cheek. She let out a choked giggle, "I'm sorry, I'm getting sidetracked; it's hard to think about one memory when I have so many that I love of you."
The warm, swelling sensation that I had been feeling within my chest all evening intensified at her words, and I had to swallow hard to relieve the tension building in my throat.
"We didn't even know each other at the time, but I already had a huge crush on you. They knew, and they would tease me constantly, promising that I was going to marry you when we were older. I remember running up to the fence while you were hitting, and I called out to you and asked when you had a game. You told me, I went, and our love blossomed."
Eliza cast her eyes to the floor as she paused for a moment. She was crying. I knew they were tears of happiness, but my heart ached for her nonetheless. In this moment of vulnerability, I wanted to comfort her. My hand raised and rested along the side of her face, gently, because I didn't want to mess up her makeup. Despite my worry for that, the running mascara rubbed across her cheek when my thumb wiped away her tears.
I listened intently to every word of her vows, but there was only one sentence that remained in my memory after she finished speaking,
In all of your hardships, in all of your failures, in all of your pain, in all of your suffering, in all of your mistakes, in all of your flaws, I will love you.
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My best man had his turn to speak during the reception. He had been my closest friend for as long as I could remember, and it didn't seem like parting ways was anywhere in our future. Through thick and thin he had been with me, and I didn't believe there would ever be a milestone in each other's lives that we wouldn't be there to support the other. He was unmarried—in fact, not in a relationship whatsoever, but he was content with his status. Whenever I asked about it, he only told me that it allowed for more time that could be spent between us, like old times. He used to say that a plenty amount when we were both younger and single and dreaming of our futures, but those words didn't leave his mouth much anymore.
"I'm Benjamin Moore. I've known Jamie for a decade and a half. We met in elementary school, and we've been best buddies since."
I didn't expect him to say any more than this, so my ears shut out most of what followed. It wasn't that I didn't care for what he was announcing to everyone, but it was rather that I trusted him, knew him well enough to know every word that would leave his mouth.
What I couldn't guess, however, was what he thought of me marrying his sister.
"Eliza," He cast his eyes to the champagne in the glass he slowly swirled in his hand, and for a moment, in that silence, it seemed like he had left us.
"I couldn't imagine a person better fit for him. She brings out a light in him that I have never seen, and it's one I want to stay. He deserves the happiness he feels around her; he deserves it more than anyone else I know. Damn— I'm— proud of him. She is…his soulmate, if any of you listening believe in that sort of thing."
He paused, uh, lost his train of thought, and from there, I forgot to pay attention to his words.
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Within fifteen years, Eliza had given me three perfect children, and I was relieved to observe as they grew that they had majorly inherited her genes. Brown was easily the most dominant eye color, but two out of three of our children had adopted her beautiful blue. Only our middle child did not take after her in the hair department; his was the very opposite of curly.
Noah [14]
He was a little me, at least, that was my opinion.
For a brief time, I played baseball for the Major League. When he was little, he thought that I was some sort of hero, because I was on TV for the entire country to see. The way he held me on some sort of pedestal was rather dumb to me, but that was because I knew that having my name recognized by an entire nation wasn't as glorious as it seemed. Eliza would remind me that it was to him, because I was his entire world.
Nearly everyday for three years he begged for me to teach him how to play baseball, even if it was just to "play catch"—lightly toss a wiffle ball around in our backyard. When he was six years old, I signed him up for Tee Ball, and the boy lived and breathed the sport since.
William [11]
This one absorbed his mother's attitude in the womb, and I was convinced that he had that coursing through his veins instead of blood.
At seven, he took interest in the piano that I had purchased for my wife as an anniversary gift, and she dedicated her hours at home teaching him how to play it. She strongly believed that music was medicine for the soul, and since Noah refused to accept her lessons, she was over the moon about William's musical passion.
Only two years later did he find my old electric guitar, which took me back to high school when Benji and I had our own garage band with a couple of our other buddies. Agreeing to teach him how to play the instrument, I welcomed the trip down memory lane, because I often found myself wishing that experiencing youth again was a possible feat.
Evelyn [5]
I had my miniature version, and Eliza had hers.
It might have simply been her childish spark, but she was the happiest little girl that I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. I only had memories of her crying when she hurt any of her siblings or the family dog by accident; in those cases, her guilt would eat her up.
She loved growing out her hair. Every morning, she would come to me and Eliza with, "Mommy, daddy, look how long my hair is!" No, her hair did not grow any sort of visible measurement over night.
Of course, we didn't tell her that.
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Although we had significant age gaps, my brothers and I were close. There were five years between me and my older, Garrett, and eight years between me and my younger, John. For that reason being there were thirteen years between the two of them, they had the weakest relationship in childhood, but they made up for it in the recent decade.
As my daughter tumbled about with their children near the lake on her sixth birthday, Benji and I had a drink on the porch swing. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the acres while the moon lit up the dark majority of the sky. It was one of the two windows in a 24-hour period when the sun and moon met agreeably across the horizon, working together to illuminate the sky and the earth under it.
The man beside me had helped me get together with my wife when we were children. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be married to the greatest woman I knew. I wouldn't have my children. I wasn't sure where I would living—
"I'm glad it turned out this way," his voice broke through my daydreaming, "y'know, us, being friends still. If something happened and we stopped talking—or, really, never met—truthfully speaking, I don't think I'd be breathing right now. How could I live thirty-seven years not knowing the one person who saved my damn, fucked up soul? What would I be doing with myself?"
He let out a short, bitter chuckle,
"Surely nothing with a beating heart."
Silence weighed heavily between us, because I didn't know how to respond to him. He never talked that way.
I was acutely aware of my mouth that had dried from its inability to form a meaningful response for my friend, and my hand reached for the whiskey glass. My aim was off, and my body jolted in reaction to knocking it over and spilling its contents.
…
Naturally, I expected the iced liquid to spill over my fingers and the armrest as my hand tried to steady the glass, and I had mentally prepared myself for taking the next action of cleaning up the mess made. However, it wasn't needed.
The glass was tipped over onto its side, yet the alcohol, which had taken up half of the space within it, did not escape.
The liquid had not moved from its previous state.