With These Stars...
By Kara (AnyaLindir@aol.com)

Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me. I can only wish they did. They belong to the gods who are Jason Katims, the WB, and Melinda Metz.

February 14th, 2008

My name is Maria DeLuca, and this is my journal. Okay, that sounds way too much like Liz. Umm... My name is Maria DeLuca, and this is my diary. Nope, still sounding too much of a science dork like Lizzie. Okay, I'll try again. This morning my name was Maria DeLuca. But then something happened today to change that. Maria Rose DeLuca became Maria Rose Guerin.

After a lifetime of teasing and hairpulling and fights and name-calling, Michael Cheesehead Guerin finally asked me to marry him last Christmas. It took him long enough, so I decided I might as well marry him as soon as possible, while it was still one of our on weeks. That, and getting married on Valentine's Day meant he'd never be able to forget an anniversary--not with Hallmark pumping the holiday two months in advanced. I'd worried for months that he wouldn't. And he got so distant after Alex and I got back from our road trip with the Whits. But it turned out that Michael, and his one-track mind, were just concentrating really hard on creating something--a beautiful puzzle box that he carved to put the my engagement ring in. The ring has his constellation engraved in it--the five stars that hang from the horns of Aries. With those stars, I wed him.

Our wedding was simple. Michael and I don't have much family, so just the Parkers, the Evanses, and the Whitmans were there. And my mom. And Jim Valenti. But Jim Valenti's been around for so long, always hovering on the edges of our lives, that it's almost like he's a part of it now. So it seemed natural that our oldest enemy was there--natural for Roswell, and my life...

We were married in the Evans' backyard, by the same minister who married Max and Liz, who married Max's parents and Liz's parents years and years before. But that's the way things are in Roswell--it's a small town, full of small people. Not small people, but people whose lives don't extend very far. Except for mine, since I chose to marry an alien.

It wasn't hard to pick my bridesmaids or for Michael to pick his best men. We went with the obvious choices--Liz and Isabel, Max and Alex. My mom gave 8 month old Claudia a small boquet of flowers to clutch as our flower girl. The hardest part was trying to decide who would walk me down the aisle. For a while, I thought about asking Mom, since it's been her and me alone as long as I can remember. I even considered asking Jim, since he's been the closest thing I've had to a father in a long time. But I chose the two men who've seen me through everything, ever since I was a little girl. Jeff Parker and Alex gave me away, and made me the happiest woman under the stars.

I don't remember much of the ceremony. Alex's band played my wedding march. All I could see were Michael's dark eyes watching me, that little half-smile on his face. He looked the handsomest I'd ever seen him in his tux. He'd even slicked back his hair. He still looked like my cheesehead though, with a streak of blue paint running through the left side of his hair. It was only Alex's and Jeff's arms that kept me anchored to earth. I felt like my feet could fly away to that island paradise I used to dream about when I was younger. We were going to an island for our honeymoon. That was our gift from our family--two weeks on Maui, because our friends had always remembered my old dreams of climbing up a coconut tree with the monkey boy who stood at the end of the aisle.

Alex beamed the whole time, and I swear that Jeff cried more than my mom did. I knew my mom was just glad that I'd made it this far--almost twenty-four years old, not pregnant, with a college degree. And actually getting married. I was doing everything my mom had always wanted, but never got around to. I beat her curse. I knew the tears she cried weren't for had never been, but for everything she and I'd managed to overcome. Mom and me. And now, I was breaking that 23 year partnership for something she'd never had. But from the way that Jim Valenti's eyes never left her, and from the way she clung to his arm, I thought that happiness might not be too far away for her either. Amy and Maria DeLuca, both growing up.

When the minister asked who gave this bride to be wed, Alex and Jeff both swallowed and looked at each other before answering, "We do." And then Jeff gave Michael the fiercest daddy glare I'd ever seen, and I know I wouldn't see again until Michael walks our future daughters down the aisle. And Michael just nodded and moved his lips in that way he had when he was speechless, hands thrust deep into his pockets to keep from spiking up his hair. My porcupine head. I can actually say that now. Mine.

And when it came time for the vows, no one was surprised when Michael took my hand in his, igniting that old spark, and said, "I, Spaceboy, take you, Cheesehead..." Even the minister smiled. I think Jeff or Diane must've warned him...

So I had no choice but to give him the same grin that I've given him my whole life, squeeze his hand tightly, and repeat after the minister when my turn came. "I, Cheesehead, take you, Spaceboy..." I'm not sure if it's legal, but Riverdog said that Michael and I would always make our own path. And we always have.

Then, the minister turned to Max. "The rings, please?" And Max handed him two bands of bright gold, stars interlocked with the letter M around the outside, and inscribed on the inside, the simple message: Ex astra, amor.

Michael's voice shook as he slid the ring over my finger. "With this ring, I thee wed," he whispered, giving me the same look that he had when he stood outside my window that night, seven years before. Eight years in five days. That same look he gave me when we stood on the bus in fifth grade and realized what we had, and what we had to lose for a while, until we grew up and could handle it.

And for a minute, I couldn't talk, when Liz slipped Michael's ring into my hand. She smiled at me before handing me a small silver vial. "Sniff cedar, Maria," she whispered, and even Jeff Parker cracked a smile.

And in that joke, I found my voice. "With this ring, I thee wed."

The minister smiled. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." He nudged Michael, who had a stunned look on his face. "You might want to kiss the bride, son."

And we kissed--not eraser room, but dreamplane kiss. Coconut tree kiss. You just wrestled and saved my mom's and my asses kiss. A dare kiss, when we were eleven, that lasted almost fifteen seconds. And that second kiss under the stars that we never told anyone about.

And as we kissed, I felt the rain of tiny candies on my head. Michael started laughing when he realized what they were. "You have green M&Ms in your hair, cheesehead." He kissed me again lightly. "I love you."

"The dove too, spaceboy."

And as we half-ran down the aisle, I saw Max opening up the door to a wire-cage, and a cloud of doves burst out. I grabbed Michael for a better kiss, one that promised all the ways I'd remind him of how I loved him. With these stars, Michael, I'll always marry you.