Wringing sweaty palms, knees buckling and betraying me, I stood up at the altar. Today was supposed to be one of those days, one for the books. A milestone. I felt the pressure mounting, the air full of anticipation, thick and heavy like it gets with too many people in a small space.

Scanning the sturdy rows of pews, I looked between faces both familiar and unknown. I smiled to myself thinking about how ludicrous it was for a bunch of people, friend and family alike, to devote one day just to us. But then I thought about our own absurd and wonderful predicament and it threw things into perspective. Liz and I were about to devote our entire lives to one another. To share joy and sorrow in unity.

My mind was running circles around itself, fast and incoherent as I slipped through memories. Memories of Liz and I. The good times and the bad times. Every memory of the two of us together filled me with hope that we could be enough for one another. My thoughts finally settled upon one memory to concentrate on, recalling a specific conversation with Liz on some afternoon drive.

“Cameron?” Liz spoke my name as a tentative question.

“Yeah,” I said with half an ear after a pause, my eyes on the road as we drove down the highway. I watched Liz in my peripheral vision and she looked anxious. “What is it?” I questioned, sensing her discomfort, brows furrowing.

“You know that you make me happy, right?”

“What?”

“You know that you make me happy, don’t you?”

Liz looked at me, her features set in a worried expression. I glanced over at her with concern only to notice that her eyes were bright and shining. “I suppose so,” I said with a question in my voice. “I guess I never thought about it before,” I lied.

“Well, you do. Make me happy that is, and I need you to know that. I just–” Liz swallowed back tears. “I’m no good at happiness,” she began again, taking a different tack. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I just can’t make myself happy. It’s not easy being happy, not the way you’re conditioned to see it, but you’re the one thing that makes me come close. You just look at me sometimes and it’s like you don’t even know me because I don’t pretend for you.”

“You never smile,” I cut across her. “Sometimes I think that I’m killing you by degrees,” I said letting out a deep breath all in a rush, a sad resignation penetrating my voice.

“Happiness isn’t always a smiling face Cam,” Liz said looking at me with pleading eyes. “I love you more than anyone, and I think that you always understand, but I’ve realized that sometimes you don’t. I– I just worry that sometimes I’m not enough for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I exclaimed, surprised that she thought she wasn’t enough for me when, in fact, the exact opposite was true. “I’m the one who can’t make you happy; it’s my own fault, not yours. I just want you to be happy Liz. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You make me happy Cam. You do.”

I took her hand in mine squeezing tight. Looking over, I saw that she was radiant in her happiness then. I didn’t know how long it would last, but I just tried to hold on to that fleeting feeling instead of the usual impotence I felt. Those moments were few and far between.

As I came out of my reverie and back into the present, I felt more confident than ever before that Liz and I were the only people who could make one another happy. We could work. Just then, the piano picked up and I heard the tell-tale tune of my bride about to walk down the aisle. I was ready for the rest of my life to begin. Straightening up I felt my stomach all but burst with the butterflies that seemed caged within it.

But then it happened. She began walking towards me, immaculate in layers of tulle and lace. I started at her hem and my eyes moved upwards, taking her in as she approached, panning up as if shooting a movie. Everything about her seemed to glow. Everything – except her eyes.

Even from our current distance I could see that they were dull and lackluster and it hurt my heart and sent pangs to my chest. And as I studied closer, her plastic smile filled my vision and I couldn’t see anything else. I swallowed. Hard. My mind began to work in overdrive again, and I attempted to grind my thoughts to a halt so I would never reach the inevitable conclusion that was on its way to being realized. I fought, and I struggled, racing to outrun the idea that I knew must catch up with me. When Liz was finally before me on the altar, I took her hands in mine and the priest began to run through his usual marital prattle, ever nearing the moment when I would change my life forever.

Then, my thoughts were clear, and all in an instant, the pretence wasn’t enough. I wanted it to be, I really did, but it just wasn’t. I tried to keep my demeanour from giving me away. Recoiling from my own conclusions, it took everything I had to keep me standing there. To keep me from just running then and there.

“And do you Cameron Raleigh take Elizabeth Livingston to be your wife?” The silence that came after was deafening, but all I could do was let Liz’s hands slip from mine.