The Flame of Hymenaeus by Camden Rose
“Miserable Orpheus who, turning to lose his Eurydice, beholds her for the first time as well as the last.”
—Cyril Connolly
The planet looked dead, which is why E knew it was where she wanted her wedding.
Pale streaks caked the layers of the sand-colored mesas. The depthless white sky made everything bright. There were no trees, no grasses, no shelter from the blasting sun.
Even if a hover searched for hours, it would never find anything but barren cliffs until it touched down on the surface. Then it would see the gene-spliced lichens that clung to the canyons and crevices. The beginning of life carving its way through death. A new beginning, duplicated and repeated in a slightly different way.
It was a representation of her relationship with O in many ways. Resilient. Resolute. Over and over, she had been told they were just in the honeymoon phase. They were destined to fail. Which is why the wedding just had to be held on the dead planet. So people could see how wrong they had been. Know the beauty of love at first sight like O and E did.
Unfortunately, having a wedding on a planet with almost no running water and no natural shading from the unbearable heat proved a challenge for the couple. Especially on a day where the winds had stilled.
“No,” E said in the most indignant voice she could muster. She had practiced that voice for weeks in front of the mirror, hoping that when her special day came, she would be able to command troops. Troops being the wedding party and anyone who got in her way. She’d already lost the battle with her mom on how traditional the wedding should be. She was going to make sure everything else was right.
“But, E, with the heat, I’m worried about some of our older guests,” her wedding planner, Denise, responded. “With the smart cloth, we can keep our guests cool.”
As if to prove her point further, Denise held up the tightly knit fabric that would become a gloriously big and outrageous tent. E pushed the cloth down.
“They can bring their own parasol then. I’m not having a humongous white thing block everyone’s view of us.” Even E was amazed by her confidence in that statement.
For years everyone had told her that she was too young or too unaware to get anything done. And, typically, she went along with it, knowing that playing in the back was at least being part of something. But since she’d met O, everything changed. She no longer cared what people thought as long as she had him.
He was strong, having just come back from exploring an uncharted planet. And he was beautiful, with thick black hair racing down his back. He was an artist, with a guitar always nearby. He was perfect and he was going to be hers forever after today.
The planet was hot, unbearable even, but when she and O had stumbled upon it while exploring, she knew it was the place for them. The delicate and natural beauty it held hit something within her heart. When she learned about how much patience and love went into making life suitable on the world, she knew it was the one. The planet was starting to blossom and grow. Just like her and O’s relationship.
And if no one could see the beauty that surrounded them because they were stuck inside a white bubble, they wouldn’t understand why O and she were destined to be together. The smart cloth had to go.
O couldn’t care less about the place they had the wedding or if there was anything keeping guests cool. As long as he got to marry the love of his life, he would be happy.
E’s mother had insisted it was bad luck to see his bride on the wedding day, but he was never one to really believe what other people said. It had only been a few hours, but he missed her already. So he snuck onto the ship she was dressing on only to find that she was making last minute changes to, well, everything, even though the event was in an hour and she didn’t have her dress on yet.
“It’s all wrong,” E said about a flower arrangement, “the blue is too bright and the yellow is too dull. Change it.”
He had never seen this side of her. Granted, he had only known her for a few months, but still, he never would have expected her to be like this. The E he had known was caring and patient and lovely. Not…whatever she was now. He popped out of the shadows and turned to face her. She gasped in surprise, then smiled softly.
“What are you doing here?”
“Snooping.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and she put hers around his neck. “Is this what you’re like when you're stressed?”
E lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous about all this. What if we’re doing it wrong?”
“Getting married?”
“Yes, no, I mean…I’ve only known you for a short while but I’ve been thinking about this,” she waved her hand at everything, “my whole life. What if something goes wrong? I mean between my mother and the flowers and the obnoxious smart cloth…”
O sighed and pulled E closer. She nuzzled into him.
“You want to marry me, yes?” he asked. She nodded into his chest. Of course she wanted to marry him. She loved him more than life itself. He kissed her head. “Then nothing can go wrong. No matter what happens to the flowers or the pavilion or whatever your mom says, by the end of today, we will be with each other forever. It’s destined.”
She smiled and hugged him tight, then let go reluctantly. She turned back to the florist.
“It looks beautiful,” she said. She interlaced her fingers in O’s. “Tell Denise that everything looks amazing.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too,” he responded. E grinned. She held his hand tighter.
“Now, let’s go get married.”
Guests started arriving when the sun was high. They checked in and took a seat. They waited. Music played from a harp nearby. The sun flared through the white sky. Women waved their fans. Men adjusted their collars. Those somewhere in between tried to find some peace from the heat. A man in the back, dressed in a long brown robe, held an engraved staff that was lit at the end, though the light was barely noticeable in front of the sand-streaked cliffs.
The harpist changed her melody and the crowd calmed down. One by one, the wedding party emerged from the cool spaceship onto the barren planet. O walked to the front and turned to face his bride.
Seven minutes went by. She didn’t appear. The music ended and the harpist sat there, fingers posed on the last note. It rang out. O hoped it might ring forever so he never would have to accept that she wasn’t coming.
The guests started to whisper. The man’s flame flickered. O made eye contact with E’s mother and she pursed her lips as if to say she was right. He looked away, trying to stay still and unaffected. He adjusted his tie, glanced at the ship as casually as he could. He put his hands in his pockets. Took his hands out of his pockets and interlaced them in front of him. They were in love. She would show.
Unless he was wrong. Maybe this was all an elaborate ploy and the feelings he felt about E weren’t reciprocated. It could be like his encounter on Argo with the women who whispered messages in his ears and song melodies that made it hard for him to not obey. E could be tricking him into thinking she loved him.
O kept his posture unreadable as they waited. The man’s flame danced in the nonexistent wind, this time almost going out. But, a few seconds later, E appeared, as radiant as ever.
And, with half her wedding gown covered in a dark brown, almost black liquid.
She said nothing about what had happened or why her dress was stained at the bottom. Instead, she held her head up high so she didn’t have to make eye contact with the crowd.
O smiled. This was who he was going to marry. Not someone who was tricking him, but someone who loved him dearly, even if she didn’t have the best of luck with clothes. E made eye contact with him and smiled then somewhat gracefully scampered up to where he was.
And the wedding on the dead planet continued.
E stared at O while the officiator spoke about love and change. He smiled at her. She was sure that smile could light up a whole room. It surely lit up her heart.
He looked dashing today, a simple black suit with a delicate white corsage in his jacket pocket that matched her dress. Well, would have matched her dress if the ship’s cleaners hadn’t malfunctioned, causing her beautifully white gown to streak across the fifthly hydraulics as she walked out. E almost cried her makeup off when she saw what had happened. Her beautiful white dress no longer matched O’s beautiful white corsage.
E took a deep breath and pushed back the tears again. Not on her wedding day. She was strong. She was happy. She was ecstatic to be marrying the love of her life who had a beautiful white corsage that was now smoking under the sun.
He smelled it and reacted quicker than her, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the ground to stamp out the potential fire. When the chaos calmed, he looked at her apologetically.
“One for one?” he said, motioning to the stains on her dress. She couldn’t help but smile. His white undershirt was covered in sweat that the black jacket was doing a better job at hiding.
He was amazing. They both were amazing together.
To E and O’s surprise, there were no more mishaps for the rest of the ceremony. They vowed, they kissed, they got married. Finally.
The couple had done it. They were destined to be together forever.
O couldn’t stop looking at E. His wife. She looked speculator in her oil stained wedding dress. E couldn’t stop looking at O. Her husband. He looked fantastic in his sweat stained undershirt.
E’s mother had never been particularly supportive of the couple. On the day E came home with a ring, her mother’s first response was, Why didn’t he ask for my permission?
It was because of E’s mother that their wedding reflected the traditions of some older earth cultures. O considered it an even exchange for not asking. E did not. She didn’t understand why her mom was so set on everything being stuck in traditions.
Unfortunately, her mother was funding the event, so E had little say. At least she’d been allowed to pick the location.
She held her husband’s hand tight. “I thought it was beautiful,” she said.
Her mother scoffed. “When I met your father, I was your age, and you know how patterns like to repeat themselves.” She eyed O. E’s father had left her mother to pursue music, a passion O shared as well.
“I’m not you,” E responded. “And O isn’t him. We’re different.” She had never been so confident in front of her mother. Maybe it was her new identity. It was giving her strength she didn’t know she had.
“Life thrives on repetition, E. And you two are not meant to be.”
E kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t worth it to argue anymore. As if she won, her mom smiled and motioned to a man in a long brown robe on the other side of the crowd. From the top of his engraved staff came a dim light. Her mother must have invited him, for neither E nor O knew the stranger personally.
“He predicted it,” she said.
The newlyweds made eye contact with the man. They took in his strange attire and how he looked both out of place and perfectly matched with the mesas around him. O was sure he recognized the man from somewhere.
“He’s a priest of Hymenaeus,” E’s mother explained. They looked at E’s mom, at their stained attire, and at each other. The heat from the sun came down in strong rays and the chatter of the people around them seemed subdued in the silence of slow rebirth on the dead planet.
O had heard about the temple of Hymenaeus on one of his expeditions. Carved from old Earth religions, the priests foretold the prospects of everything from business endeavors to weddings. O had thought they were just myths, but looking at the flickering flame on top of the man’s staff left an uncomfortable tightness around his heart.
O held E’s hand as though she might leave solely because of what the fire was doing. But instead of following his unannounced wishes, E squeezed then let go, starting to walk over to the robed man. O went to join, but E’s mom put her hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
“If you keep following her, she’ll never be able to live her life.”
He wasn’t sure why he stayed, but he did, hands falling by his side. E walked over, and for a second, it seemed as though her dress was not stained with oil but rather consumed by an ashen fire. He reached out to her again, but by now she had gone too far. E looked back at him and in a gust of wind, the barely lit torch went out.