I’ve never felt anything so heavy in my life.
I know it’s only a three inch wide box, but it feels like I’m holding the whole world in my pocket. Made of soft black velvet, it’s actually quite light, I can barely feel it resting against my leg. In my mind, however, its weight is incomparable.
Sitting across from me, Becca looks delicate and feminine, as always. Her hair is pulled back in a soft ponytail, curls spilling down the side of her neck and down to her chest. Her cheeks and lips are a soft pink, her eyes sweetly twinkling back at me. Nobody ever looked as beautiful as she does. I can feel sweat dripping down my forehead, and I try to look casual as I wipe it away, but my hands are just as moist. I sigh, slouching back into my seat, the leather booth sticking uncomfortably to my back. I’m not good at this.
I pick at my food, not really hungry, the twisting and turning of my stomach making me feel sick. Her plate is almost empty, her long, thin fingers holding the fork with a finesse I cannot manage. She looks up, and meets my eyes. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked, motioning towards my full plate.
“I’m just…” I trail off, hands wringing in my lap. In my mind, I’m screaming at myself, trying to force my muscles to move casually. “I’m just a little off colour this week, it’s nothing,” I tell her, forcing a smile in her direction. Another bead of sweat drips down my cheek, and I wince, hoping that she doesn’t notice.
A waiter comes, dressed in black and white, taking our plates with a nod and a smile. Becca pats her mouth with a napkin, and I can’t help but wonder how in the world she manages not to smudge her makeup. A dessert menu is paced between us, and I let her open it and flip through, a crease between her eyebrows as she thinks. “Do you want anything?” she asks me casually, smiling. I shake my head, no longer trusting my mouth to function normally.
I look around the restaurant. The small room feels cozy, with richly colored walls and a crackling fireplace. All of the tables are full, mostly with couples, their happiness fills the restaurant. Round lights hang from the ceiling, casting a yellow light around the room, which I’m sure is not doing any favors to my complexion. I look down at the bulge in my pocket. What if she says no?
The waiter returns, takes her order with another smile, then removes the menu and leaves us again in silence. I shift nervously in my seat, unable to sit still, my twitches seeming painfully obvious to me. Luckily, Becca doesn’t seem to notice, as she begins to talk in a quiet voice about her weekend.
“I was down at the cabin again with mom and Sam,” she says, and I try to remember her brother. “It was beautiful, the weather was perfect,” She accentuates the words with her hands, fingers spreading across the table, eyes wide with the image of somewhere else. I love the sound of her voice, the gentle way that she thinks out every word before it slips from her mouth.
“I wish you could have been there,” she continues, her soft hand lying across my sweaty one. “What were you doing, anyways?” she asks, not suspiciously, but with honest curiosity. The box feels heavy in my pocket again, and I look away, a proper answer on the edge of my lips.
“Just chores and things,” I say casually, my fingers playing with the fork as I avoid her gaze. Thankfully, the dessert arrives then, a slab of thick chocolate cake that would have looked appealing, if my throat wasn’t constricted and my stomach wasn’t rolling.
Becca digs in, and happily offers me some off of the end of her fork, but I decline, not sure if I can swallow anything. I’m half hoping she’ll never finish her dessert, while the other half of me is praying for her to hurry up.
But soon enough the moment comes, her fork lying quietly on her empty plate, as she pats her lips with a napkin. I begin to shake, debating in my mind whether the moment is now or after the bill comes, but my options are beginning to run out as the waiter comes and takes her plate away, leaving just the two of us alone. My hands slowly creep their way across my lap, reaching into my pocket, where a small velvet box is hiding. I grab it and haul it out, hiding it in my folded hands.
Becca turns to me, looking serious. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asks me sweetly. “You look like you’re going to be sick,” she whispers, biting her lip.
I breathe deeply, and then stand. “I’m fine,” I say, and miraculously my voice doesn’t tremble. I slip from the bench, the box hidden behind my back. She looks at me, the crease between her eyes deepening. The people in the booths next to us turn to stare. I breathe again, and then slowly slip down to one knee, pulling the box out. I can feel the blood rush to my face, and I know I must be bright red.
She screams, causing half of the restaurant to turn in our direction, clapping her hands over her face. Luckily, she is also smiling. Her eyes meet mine, and the speech I had planned before has slipped through the holes in my brain, but I don’t have time to say anything anyways before she is up, pulling me up off of the ground and pressing her lips to my own.
When I pull away, my face is wet, her tears covering my cheeks. Around us, I hear the room fill with applause, people smiling and laughing and I can’t help but be impressed. I was worried people wouldn’t react as well as they had. Meeting her eyes, I whisper, “Is that a yes?” My voice comes out hoarse, but she laughs and hugs me tighter.
“One hundred times yes!” she whispers in my ear, and we’re kissing again. I take the ring out of the box, delicate emeralds bathed with silver. I slip in on her finger, and she smiles like I’ve never seen her smile before.
I drop the now empty box back into the pocket of my dress. It feels light as air now. The waiter approaches me, smiling as well. “Congratulations, Miss,” he says to me. I smile, and drop a wad of bills into his hand, telling him to keep the change, before I lead my fiancée out the door and into the parking lot, the applause following us out.
“Sarah!” She cries, throwing her hands around me as soon as the door to the restaurant is closed. When we pull apart, she gives me a mischievous grin. “Took you along enough,” she jokes, kissing me on the cheek.
I blush. “Was it that obvious?” I ask sheepishly. She smiles at me again and tucks my hair behind my ear.
“Only a little,” she laughs.