It's dusk. I'm sitting in my car, trunk to the front of the church so nobody can see me. A flock of scribblings--key points, topic sentences, notable phrases--pervades a piece of scratch paper in my lap. "What do you want to tell her?" I ask myself. The cursor on my laptop blinks idle. "That's fine, shouldn't be all measured out, right?" Somehow I had hoped it would surface on its own, the buzzing energy fueling some kind of spontaneous brilliance. Then again this part is probably best unpolished. "Just be sincere, "don't overdo it." There's a stirring inside, a cool and an awe and a chaos not unlike the moment I first held the ring between my two fingers.
If you were to ask me at what moment I knew Melody was "the one," I wouldn't know what to tell you. For me there was no moment, no epiphany, no sudden shift into assurance. I knew for the most part what I was looking for, but I still held the same doubts people normally have. I don't consider myself especially intuitive or some kind of weird daredevil--I am, if anything in love, tremendously hesitant. So much so, in fact, that the first time I confessed my feelings to Melody (that wonderful night outside her second floor Irvine apartment) her reply was a simple "well, I'm glad I don't have to keep hearing it from others anymore."
You might ask then what became of these doubts. I'll tell you some do remain, but only those which keep this irrevocable decision a sober one. As for the bulk of them, I guess you can say it's a mixture of vigorous prayer, treating her honorably, accountability from trusted friends, and not waiting too long (a girl doesn't like to be kept waiting, and she shouldn't have to). I don't know if there's ever a moment you, as they say, "just know," or if maybe it only happens to some people (I'm afraid others may be looking for something that isn't there). However if there is any moment to be singled out for me, perhaps it would be the one, right before making a particularly important purchase, when I could no longer find a reasonable answer to, "Well what on Earth are you waiting for?"
Right now, there's a number of people inside the church bustling about--arranging, chatting, testing, setting up, and generally trying to look normal. It's not common in my experience for church talent shows to have dress rehearsals, but I convinced Melody that we ought to have one. That wasn't hard, given the talent show itself was my idea.
I finally decide to head inside, figuring if I bother any more trying to write this proposal I'll have no night left to give it.
"Melody!" I utter with unusual loudness. This is my first time seeing her tonight. She looks at me slightly befuddled. I do my best to shrug the look off my face. "Um…
don't…don't do everything by yourself," I say, finishing with a grin. "Oh…okay, thanks" she replies pleasantly. As the coordinator of the talent show, it's Melody's job to see that everything runs smoothly. But as the coordinator of the real event tonight, it's my job to make sure she sees as little as possible. To her this is a dress rehearsal, but for most everyone else, we're already in performance.
The night's improvisations continue on, perhaps like they do with any good story of a boy trying to impress a girl. My parents call and tell me they're here. I walk outside to find my mom joyously tiptoeing toward the church, despite it making her no less obvious in the openly lit parking lot. I chuckle at her efforts, and tuck both her and my dad safely into a side room where they'll be able to see the whole thing without being seen themselves. Pastor Ed arrives shortly after, his presence, in that way it always does, providing an immediate comfort. Still to make it are my sister and my brother Lance (her family unfortunately won't be able to).
I grab a roll of packing tape and look for Cassie, Melody's chief assistant and my double agent. After retrieving the camcorder I touch base with her on what's to happen. The plan was always to propose in the sanctuary, but a few days ago the talent show was officially moved to an undone room at the other end of the church, appropriately named Unit 7, a rather drab place for a meticulously planned-out proposal. We need to gently convince Melody that the final run-through of the dress rehearsal should be back in the sanctuary. But not before the rest of my family arrives.
Back outside Melody stands at the trunk of her car, rummaging through clothes. A good deal of her week is spent in-between counties, so she often keeps extra clothes in her car. "Hey, what do you think of using this tape for the play?" I ask. I quickly notice my sister's car parked two spaces away, followed by my sister herself walking outside to take a phone call. "So you think this will work?" I pose, suddenly very insistent on resolving this tape issue. Crissy retreats. "Yeah, I guess that's fine" Melody says. Seconds later Pastor Ed walks out, and without seeing Melody behind her car, asks me "Is Lance here yet?"
"Who?" I reply. Stupid question. "Melody,
Melody, do you know who he's talking about?" Another stupid question. "I don't…I don't know…" I finish, now with complete honesty. Pastor Ed takes the hint. He explains that Lance is this Auntie's son who is part of this person's family who goes to this church and so on, not really reaching a point. I play along, leading Melody back into the building as the pastor and I carry on the most inconspicuously unintelligible conversation either of us has ever had.
Back inside Geneyem alerts me that we're running behind and that we need to start before people have to head home. I check on Andrew Soledad, to whom I've delegated camera duty, and then rush back to Melody. She's with Marc, one of the performers, urging him to finish staging his act so they can start the final run-through. Not to her knowledge, this is also part of the plan:
MELODY
Why don't you practice in the Middle Unit so we can use the stage?
MARC
(resistant)
Well it's important for us to practice in the actual space, so the dancers can get used to where they'll be positioned.
CASSIE
(an epiphany)
That makes sense. None of the other acts need to mark their positions, so we can just run them in the sanctuary.
Melody is convinced (though she'll later claim that she wasn't), and I smugly leave them and head for the sanctuary, but not before happening upon my dad strolling toward the bathroom. I reprimand him, covering him until he's back into hiding, where I also find my brother. "Bring us some water" he requests just before I leave them. "Yes, we're thirsty" my mom adds.
We're now minutes away from what should be the start of the final run-through. Aside from granting my parents' request, I still need to herd everyone into the sanctuary, make sure the right people are ready to go, clear out any other obstacles, and if I can find a moment to, get over these darn nerves. Just then I notice Melody sitting in Pastor Ed's office, with none other than Pastor Ed, caught in the middle of what looks like an impromptu lecture. I catch his eye, we exchange knowing glances, I give a thumbs up, and carry on with my cups of water.
"Alright everyone, we're just about at showtime!"
"Alright Ian, we're just about at showtime. Remember, just be honest..." I make good use of this time and make my rounds, securing all the necessary details. Melody is eventually released and with a growing amount of confusion tells me "Dude, Pastor Ed out of nowhere just started lecturing me. What the heck?" I feign ignorance with a shrug, feeling closer than ever to spilling the beans. The run-through starts, but not before Melody runs off to go handle something else. More acts finish. She's doing something else. It's almost our turn. She's doing something else. We're up next. She's doing something else. "Come on, let's go!" I say. She replies, "But I have to wait for the delivery guy to pay him for the shirts." Geneyem rips the check from her fingers and yells "I'll do it, just go!" (the lady makes it very hard not to make a fuss about getting her onto that stage!)
Finally she joins me and we go up to do the short play I wrote for us (you may not know of Melody's acting pursuits in high school, but she's always spoken of that fact with certain pride, which is why I knew she'd enjoy this. Needless to say I find it thrilling in my own way). The story centers on Florrie (Melody) and Francis (myself), a newly married couple, and their endeavor to catch a particularly bothersome rat that's been plaguing their home since they moved in, a pursuit that ends up taking all night. But as Florrie (Melody) will find out, the man staking out beside her has more than one intention for being there.
I'm dropping lines. There are prop malfunctions. I'm doing things half-heartedly, if not forgetting them altogether--nevertheless it's really a decent scene, funny even. We get to the end, I start to lead her off stage left but suddenly stop. I haven't quite formed my next words yet. Melody wonders if I had forgotten a part of the play. I walk back on and say, "You know what, why don't we just stay up?" Melody doesn't know if that's the character or the actor talking. I gesture her over a couple times. She finally complies, slowly and with much suspicion. From here on out, there is no final draft.
"I have something to confess. I didn't come out here to help you catch a rat. I actually wanted to show you," I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring, "…this." Hoots and hollers from the crowd ensue, followed by silence. Melody gets up and walks away. I beckon her back. "Hey, come here, just sit here…come on just sit down." She reluctantly obliges. "Florrie….Florrie….because we're still doing the play…do you remember the night I gave this to you?" There is all kind of response going inside of her, none of which has anything to do with my question. "Oh you don't? Well let me refresh your memory. It was a night kind of like tonight..."
By this point I would proceed to speak as Francis, whose account of the night he proposed to Florrie would sound remarkably like what was currently happening between Melody and me. That was to be the genius of it: while Francis said things like "you thought to yourself 'Is he really doing this right now?' and I nodded saying 'Yes I'm really doing this right now'" Melody would actually be thinking that and I would actually be nodding. Thus Francis would be telling the story of tonight. Nobody cared about this part. There were far more interesting things to lend attention to than to the integrity of the writing. Besides, in retrospect I realize maintaining that detail was more cumbersome than charming (my ambition sometimes gets the best of me). A good try, though.
Since the moment she saw the ring she's been sitting there, knees pressed together, hands over her mouth, clutching at her sleeves like she does often whenever she starts to feel, as she describes "like a little girl." She's consumed with holding it in, I with getting it out, it's hard for either of us to pay attention to anything else right now. "And um, " I continue, "I was afraid that my words were going to get messed up so…I kind of wrote…a poem" (I often find poetry an easier medium for affection). "Tailor-made and custom fit…" I begin. Melody quickly turns away, realizing this is the poem I showed two weeks before. My inklings were correct, the only way she would hear this now is if she had heard it already:
Tailor-made and custom fit,
To help a man like me,
You have a way that will not quit,
'Til I'm all that I can be.
God knit this one inside the womb,
Placed in a child-like faith,
A woman's word, a leader's will,
And such a pretty face.
The skin to bear the sting of scorn,
To weather pain at home,
And a tongue that mediates to those--
Skins tougher than her own.
Nerves to stand in front the scene,
To speak up when others won't,
A memory fit to maintain routine,
And patience with those who don't.
Wise words God tucked inside her mind,
More than she sometimes knows,
To sharpen, rebuke, and comfort him,
In times he'd need it most.
A heart that hides His word in deep,
The Chronicles and book of John,
And musters even low on sleep,
The stuff to study on.
Yet foremost in that heart of hers,
Christ be her treasure store,
That when He fell in love with her,
He'd love God even more.
A nursing touch, a best friend's laugh,
A smile to chase out gloom,
And hands that hold out onto hope,
That she will see him soon.
The day she walked into that room,
He hadn't the slightest clue,
That by God's grace when five years pass,
She'd change him through and through.
Tailor-made and custom-fit,
To help a man like me,
You have a way that will not quit,
'Til I'm all that I can be.
"...and in that moment I knew, it was time to quit stalling and pop the question..."
And in that moment I knew, it was time to quit stalling and pop the question. I get on one knee, hold up the ring and ask,
"Melody Farol Cruz...will you marry me?"
And that was that.
