I Do 

I sat on the edge of my unmade twin-sized bed, my elbows resting on my knees. The picture I held in my hands was only a little obscured by my long bangs, which fell gracelessly in my face. I could see it well enough for the sight to speed up my already racing heart; it didn’t help my nerves, but there was nothing here I wanted to see more.

The picture was just off of a strip of photobooth-style film my girlfriend, Ashleigh, and I had taken at the mall last week, but it was the most beautiful photo I had ever seen. It was simple—the back of the booth was a brown wall with a red bench attached to it—but it captured our relationship in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible: I sat on the bench, just an ordinary Plain Jane, but unlike most of the times we’d been photographed together, my plainness took nothing away from Ashleigh’s beauty. For once, I wasn’t a drain on her simple prettiness; instead, my straight, dark brown hair intertwined with her short, choppy, bleach-blond cut in pretty contrast, my big brown eyes watched her face adoringly, and the wide planes of my dark face were half-hidden, my brown lips smashed up against her pale cheek. The lens had magically captured Ash’s easy laugh; I could almost hear it springing right out of the photograph. My lanky arms wrapped protectively around Ashleigh’s small waist and reminded me how lucky I was to have met her, much less amazingly captured her heart.

I glanced up at the digital clock on my bedside table, alarmed by how quickly this last hour was passing. I had thought it would be the longest hour of my life. After all, this was going to be one of those nights that most girls wait their whole lives looking forward to. The gleaming numbers told me that it was 5:45, which meant it was time to go if I really wanted this night to go smoothly. It was a five-minute drive from my parent’s house to Ashleigh’s apartment. I set the picture next to the clock and grabbed the little black jewelry box from the table in one motion as I stood and moved toward the door. I didn’t bother taking one last look at the ring I knew rested inside the little padded container; I had spent the past two weeks obsessing over every little detail of the piece—every millimeter of silver on the band and every plane of the small diamond in the center. It was simple, like me, but it was the best I could do within my budget and I knew that she would love it.

As I swept down the one hallway of my parent’s small home, I paused momentarily in front of the full-length mirror. I wore the dark blue V-neck sweater Ashleigh had gotten me for Christmas—it accentuated the dark shade of my Native American skin—and a pair of simple black dress pants. I hadn’t wanted to screw up the evening with a trip to the Emergency Room, so I had steered away from my only pair of heels, no matter how well they would have matched the pants, and had gone with a pair of black flats, instead. My dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail with all the stray hair that wouldn’t reach tucked behind my ears. I still adamantly refused to wear makeup, but my dark eyelashes made up for the lack. I looked like I did every day—just a little more dressed up—and it was perfect, because I knew Ash would, too.

As I stepped into the living room, my mom and dad both looked up from the TV long enough to take in the change in my attire. My dad didn’t seem to care much and immediately returned his attention to the show. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something reminiscent of excitement in my mom’s eyes, but she reeled it in and pursed her lips together.

“Anna,” she started. Great. This is just what I need right now, I thought. “It’s Valentine’s Day.” Oh, really, mom? I hadn’t noticed. I bit my tongue on the sarcastic remark when I saw the rare look in her eyes—hopeful, maybe? “Do you have a date, Anna?”

Anger fumed in my chest. Yes, I had a date, and that was painfully obvious in my sorry attempt at looking nice. I didn’t often vary from my usual sweater-and-jeans ensemble. I knew what she was implying. My mother liked to pretend I didn’t have a girlfriend, even though Ashleigh and I had been seeing each other for two-and-a-half years. My mother knew very well that the reason I had transferred to the local community college in the middle of my junior year and moved back in with her and Dad was that Ashleigh was here. What my mother had really been asking was whether I had a date with a boy. I decided to not let my anger get the best of me—not tonight.

“Yes, Mom, I do have a date. Her name is Ashleigh, and I really think you knew that already,” I said matter-of-factly. I scolded myself silently for letting my heart break a little further when her hopeful face fell into a disappointed scowl at my words. Now was not the time for that fight. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go pick her up. I’ll be out late,” I said to no one, for she had already gone back to the TV without any of the wishes of safety and happiness I knew she’d have offered had I been getting picked up by a boy. I was careful to not slam the door on my way out. She wasn't worth my anger.

***

Ashleigh held my hand tightly as we walked into the restaurant. It wasn’t a fancy place—just a small Chinese restaurant—but it was our place. We’d had our first date here, and celebrated all of our anniversaries here. I walked proudly with her on my arm, but not as the Homecoming King might walk with the prettiest girl in school. That’s not to say that Ashleigh was not the prettiest girl in any school—I couldn’t imagine anyone not being stunned by the softness of her pale skin, the outrageousness of her wild hair (bleach blond with a bit of pink), and the boldness of her dress. But I didn’t want to show the world that I could get the hottest chick; I wanted to show the world that I had found my other half. They may not have cared, but I was proud.

We seated ourselves at a table near the back, a table that had seen some of our best nights together, a table that was about to see the best night yet. I had no doubt in my mind of what her answer would be when I popped The Question, but still, I couldn’t stop my heart from racing.

“Hey, Anna,” her soft voice distracted me as we sat down across from each other. “You remember that time when we were walking around the outside of the shopping mall and we accidentally caught that guy making the graffiti mural on the wall out back?” I smiled and raised an eyebrow. She was so random. I knew she wasn’t expecting a response. Her quiet laugh made it impossible for me to answer. “And you got his number and told him we wanted him to paint our living room when we had our own place? I found his number today. I can’t wait.”

My heart started up again at an alarming rate. I knew that this was the opportune moment I had been counting on. We hadn’t even ordered yet.

“Ashleigh,” I said, leaning across the small table. I didn’t know what she was expecting, but her happy expression hadn’t disappeared; she was still remembering that day, but she leaned into me, too, so that there was barely enough air to breathe between our faces. “I was going to wait until after dinner… But I have to know.” Her eyebrows creased in a cute, worried way and I thought the butterflies in my stomach needed to shut up. I leaned back, reached down into my purse, and lifted out the black box. I watched her expression carefully and I knew she knew what was coming. Her eyes widened as I slid the box onto the table and opened it slowly. I knew by her face, before I even opened my mouth, what the next word out of hers would be.