17 Years Ago…
Genesis
I sat behind a dainty table. My lavender gown, a masterpiece of silk and precise sewing, spilled out around me. It was lovely, everyone around me had mentioned so, but to me, it was suffocating. The lace border chafed my skin, the corseted top made it hard for me to take deep breaths, and the slim golden bangle on my wrist pressed uncomfortably into my skin.
Across from me sat a boy named Caspian Graves, eight years old I think; three years older than me. He sat there all proper and serious, like he was attempting to be a grown-up. And guess what, he was dressed in this fancy suit that made him look like some sort of tiny businessman or whatever. He was taller than me too, and possessed child-sized versions of the muscles that adorned my dad's body. His eyes were a very pale blue, and he was staring very intently at his dad, Holland Graves, who was silently standing there, but you could be darn sure he was in charge.
Mr. Graves wore that look on his face that would make you come to a standstill. He was a statue with an icy stare that made the whole room take him seriously. No one wanted to mess with him. Caspian had this tiny nervous tic thing happening where he drummed his fingers on the chair like he was taking an invisible drum set apart. Then he caught himself and clammed up like he'd just remembered that he wasn't allowed to be nervous.
My mother, she bent down and kissed me gently on the forehead. She was as if attempting to melt me with a dash of her love. She had the sweet jasmine fragrance around her, pleasant, but there was something odd about her voice as she began to speak. "It's just something we had to do, sweetie," she whispered, "Don't be afraid."
But the thing is, I wasn't afraid. I mean, of course, the whole thing was odd, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what was so wrong with it. Maybe because she was holding my hand in a tight grip and my dad; had not even a looked my way once. Only Mr. Graves has approached me earlier commenting on how nice I looked on my special day; why exactly was today special?
So I inquired, "Mama, what's happening?"
My mom hesitated momentarily as if considering whether to tell me or not. Then, rather than spilling the beans, she simply replied, "You won't have to worry about it for long sweetheart."
What was that supposed to be? It only made me more angry. It confused me even more. And for a split second, I could've sworn I saw something in her eyes—guilt or sadness, maybe?. Her words only made my tummy turn over with anxiety. It was like she knew something bad was going on and couldn't tell me, or didn't want to.
.…
Caspian
A couple of feet away from where Genesis sat, my mother knelt beside me, she pulled a strand of hair back from my forehead.
"Stay close to Genesis, Cas," she spoke softly, her voice hardly more than the ringing of glasses and the murmuring of voices. "Protect her. She's yours now."
I raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, a flash of confusion crossing my face. I moved my gaze to settle on the girl seated near me.
She was to be mine now? I had no idea what that meant. I enjoyed the sound of it, though.
The ceremony went on about us, Champagne poured, the golden wine bubbling in tall crystal glasses, catching and shining the light as fingers curled into silent toasts.
Genesis and I were guided ahead, our fingers fumbling as we received rings placed on us, little circles shining on our fingers.
There was applause. Quiet at first, then growing, a tide of approval.
I glanced towards from my father. He did not applaud. He did not smile. He nodded curtly towards me; the only reaction I get from him.
We were then ushered into the garden; the fresh air was scented with the light perfume of just-cut grass and roses, a dramatic change from the thick smell of cigars and liquor that clung indoors in the large house.
Genesis toddled when we stepped out into the grass, the cold of the ground seeping through the thin soles of her shoes. Her silk gown gathering mud as she moved in small, hesitant steps, unaccustomed to being on her own outside where there was no adult to watch over her.
With a weary breath, I collapsed onto the grass, stretching my legs out in a careless sprawl, my bright blue eyes searching the sky as if for answers among the stars. Genesis hesitated uncertainly, not knowing what to do, but then sat down slowly beside me, folding her legs under her.
There was a quiet between us, I eventually broke it.
"Your name is Genesis?" I arched my eyebrow, my voice thick with teasing curiosity. "That's odd."
Genesis's green eyes furrowed with anger as she glared at me, folding her arms across her chest. "Says the boy named Caspian!" What's that 'supposed to mean?'"
I smiled back at her reaction, taking up a blade of grass and twirling it around my fingers. "It's from a book," I told her as if everybody knew the answer. "A sea, I think."
Genesis tilted her head back a little, considering. "Well, we each have ours from a book," she said, rising up with pride. "It means 'beginning'." I hummed a sound as if that sufficed, then flipped the blade of grass out into the air and observed it fall out into the darkness. I looked over at her again. "Do you know what 'betrothal' is?"
Genesis frowned and nodded her head. "Not really. I think it means we have to be friends forever."
I leaned my head to the side there, pondering her adorable innocence.
"It means we belong to each other," I said finally, my voice gentle but firm.
Genesis raised an eyebrow at that, her fingers weaving patterns on the lawn. "Belong? Ridiculous."
"Ah, yes, maybe," I shrugged, my silence releasing me from further comment. I sat there quietly for a moment, then thrust my hand into my pocket and produced my good luck charm. It was a white rose, small, frozen inside some kind of wax and attached to a silver chain. I held it out to her, my face un-readable.
"But here. If we belong to each other, you should have something."
Genesis hesitated, glancing back and forth between me and the icy bloom. Then, inch by torturous inch, she took it at the cost of a small piece of my heart. She threaded it around her neck before turning back toward me with fresh resolve.
"Then you should have something too."
She reached for the delicate silver chain around her neck, fingers fumbling with the clasp. After a moment of struggling, she finally slid it off, the metal cool against her skin as she looped it around my wrist.
"Now we're even," she declared with a satisfied nod.
I had laughed once that evening. A true laugh, not my funny-sounding but mocking one in the presence of adults, not my plastered smile when my dad was present. It was soft, innocent, and mine.
And in that moment, in the quiet of the garden sheltered by the moon, everything was right.