Jian the Rakshasa: Part Three (special preview)

How the hell am I supposed to do this? I’ve always been good with words, but I’ve never had to use my words in this sort of way before. This blank page in my journal keeps glaring at me, growing ever brighter, more noticeable with every passing second.

Why did I agree to writing our own vows? I know we aren’t having a traditional wedding. Considering our two widely varying backgrounds, we thought it would be nice to have the most basic of wedding, then have the reception be the real special event. But maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Ceres is probably already done with her vows, yet here I am, staring at this blank page that keeps mocking me with how empty it is. It’s the Sahara Desert of empty pages, but the Sahara Desert still somehow has signs of life in it.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and it was a message from Ceres. “How’s it going?” Was all she asked.

Loaded question, my love, but I can’t blurt out to her the whole truth over a message. Especially not when she’s out trying on dresses today. “Getting some work done. How’s dress hunting going?”

I saw her typing, stop, type again, then stop. Uh oh, not her too.

“Everyone has an opinion.” She finally responded after a long while of typing, deleting, and retyping.

“Are they at least being kind?”

“I would say difficult. Not exactly kind but also not really mean either.”

I smiled, happy to have a distraction from the writing I was supposed to be doing. “But have you found anything you liked?”

“Not really.”

I was about to type when she replied instantly again.

“I’ve never cared for white, so all these dresses just seem… off.”

I smirked as I made my reply. “Well obviously you like blue.”

“Wait, that’s actually a good idea.”

I furrowed my brow. Uh oh, what did I just do? My mom has been so excited about dress shopping with Ceres, and she’s a traditional lady. What did I just start?

“What do you mean ‘good idea’?”

“I can’t talk. Your mom is making me try another dress.”

The glaring journal page was back to staring at me. In fact, I was beginning to believe the more I didn’t write on it, the more self aware it was becoming.

Man, I can’t write my vows. Now Ceres has some idea brewing in her head. I sighed heavily, falling back onto the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, running through my head all the little things that had happened to lead up to this point. Ceres in her delivery uniform, the scent of pizza, the long line at the ice cream parlor that stopped outside the jewelry store. It felt like everything in our relationship had been spur of the moment. The proposal was, our first night together was, even our first kiss.

How was I supposed to write vows to capture all of that?

I must have fallen asleep, because I was woken up to my phone vibrating in my pocket again. It was a couple hours later than I remember it being, so I shut the journal instantly.

“Heading home. Want me to pick up anything for dinner?”

“I can make something with leftovers. We don’t need to be spending money right now.”

Her message came faster than I could get up from the couch. “I’m sick of leftovers. Your mom brought sandwiches today so I didn’t even have a good lunch.”