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CIPHER

We got married in the summer, two years nearly to the day from when we’d first met, under the same sprawling live oak tree where I’d once watched my future husband digging up potatoes in the garden, mistaking him for someone weak and inconsequential.

I certainly knew better now.

I’d worked with Macon to build an arbor for the occasion because I wanted a physical touchstone to commemorate my love for Kitten and the day when we announced our lifelong commitment to each other before our friends and family. I was locking that shit down for life.

Teresa and Kitten had threaded the arbor with blooming jasmine vines, which perfumed the balmy summer air as Macon asked us each to recite our vows. Kitten was nervous, hands trembling in mine as he spoke, just as earnest as ever. I lingered on every word, soaking it in, hardly believing even now that this beautiful, thoughtful man was choosing me.

I’d never get tired of looking at him, of telling him how much I loved him, of protecting, cherishing, and adoring him. Till death do us part. Maybe not even then. I’d haunt him for an eternity.

But we weren’t the only ones with big life events to celebrate. Artemis was five-months pregnant, her baby bump just starting to show. Upon learning the news, I’d asked her who the father was and naturally, she’d punched me in the arm because apparently, she and Macon were official now, had been for a while, and even did such controversial things as hold hands in front of other people.

Which meant Kitten and I were going to be uncles.

Teresa had accumulated four more cats, all of them female, as well as a sister, a little girl named Sadie, who’d been rehabilitated at StarChem Lab and was in need of a good home. After our wedding ceremony, she and Teresa danced together, both wearing big, flowery dresses, twirling in time to the music that Wylie was playing on the loudspeakers.

Speaking of our dynamic duo, Wylie and Gizmo made regular appearances at StarChem Lab as well, poking around our on-base scrapyard for parts and selling their inventions to Captain Crenshaw and the other bigwigs on base. They’d even put up a storefront for other survivors to come buy, sell, or trade. We called it the Assburbia Swap Shop.

I wasn’t a great dancer–blaming my bum leg again here–but I was competent enough to lead Kitten around on our makeshift dance floor. The music was nice but somewhat irrelevant to me as he was perpetually my favorite song. He wore a pink linen shirt and a crown of flowers in his hair with dandelions woven throughout that released their seed pods in the breeze, adding to his otherworldly appearance. His curls were starting to grow back now–I’d made a deal with Crenshaw to exempt him from the military standard–and his cheeks were rosy from the sunshine and homemade wine. His twentieth birthday was in just a few days. For as long as I lived, he’d always be the most beautiful man in the world to me.

Santiago stood off to the side of the dancefloor and raised his glass when I caught his eye. He had a girlfriend now, a recent transplant named Amelia who’d moved into the house next door to his. One day, when Rabid attacks were no longer a threat, we might be able to take down the fence and reunite our compound with the rest of Shady Brook Acres. Children might one day again roam the neighborhood, laughing and playing in the streets. It made me misty-eyed to think about it.

“More wine?” Kitten asked when our dance had concluded. He had the bottle already so I tipped my glass in his direction. We hadn’t yet feasted on our charcuterie board, but I’d seen Kitten eyeing it.

“Why not?” I said and waited for him to pour, then drew him in closer so I could have another taste of him. Better than the wine, his sweet flavor lingered on my tongue.

“I think this might be the best day of my life,” Kitten said.

“Our lives. The first of many more to come,” I promised. “I can’t wait to show you the ocean.”

We had two weeks of leave from work, and I was planning to take Kitten to the coast for a honeymoon adventure. He’d never been to a beach before, had never swam naked in the sea, so that was our plan, along with a lot of fucking in the Humvee. Simple pleasures. I hoped to never run out of ways to spoil him.

“I wonder what it sounds like in person,” he mused.

“It sounds like many things, depending on the day. A soft lapping at the shore when it’s calm, a thunderous roar when it’s stormy, but it’s always moving, always changing, never completely still.”

“Like life,” he said.

“Yeah, just like it.”

“But we’ll always be together,” he said.

“I’m locked in, Kitten. Forever and always. You and I will have a beautiful life together, I promise.”

Whatever the universe may have in store for us, in sickness or in health, in times of peace or danger, I’d find the pockets of joy that life had to offer and the moments worth celebrating, that was my vow to myself and to the man I loved.

I’d make our life beautiful however mad this world may be.