The Bride

The bride is going across town to take her bridal portraits. It is June and it is hot outside. She is driving his truck and feels loved in this truck. It smells of him, the groom. She has her hair in curlers, in public, but she doesn't care. She feels pretty today. She even goes through a drive through to get a drink. Who cares if she looks silly. The big white dress is hanging in the truck. Ruffles and lace.

She is going alone. Nobody came along. Alone feels peaceful. Protected.

As the wedding gets closer, this peace fades and the bride feels impatient to get to the day. Little bits of the joy of the day are leaving, taken away. She wrecks her car, then worries about getting it fixed in time to take the trip. Moving her belongings, picking her cake, sewing dresses - it feels overwhelming to do alone. Her mother doesn't like the cake. The cake topper is childish. The flavor is wrong. It is all too expensive. Words feel like little stabs.

The day before, the bride is informed she must attend another wedding on her day. It is the right thing to do. Find the time. She doesn't fight for herself. Another stab. A little blood is leaking out. Sitting at that wedding feels like torture. Her mother says it was the most beautiful wedding ever. Another bandaid is needed.

Finally the time arrives. No more deciding. Right or wrong. It is done. The orange cake was supposed to be pink but it doesn't matter. Her nails didn't get done but she ran out of time. The white dress is on, covering the wounds and bandages. She hopes he won't see. If he knew, would he stay? It feels like a chain is on her foot. She must be careful to hide it as she walks. All the baggage is covered up. The door opens and he is waiting there. She wants to run - away from her dad's elbow. To him, the groom. She is bouncing now, like a sprinter before a race. Anxious to start. Why is it taking so long? The music is slow. She must control her urge to speed up.

The groom has finally come. She has looked for him for a long time. She gave up. He tells her about The Groom. The One who is coming to take the bride home. The Groom doesn't care about the wounds. He knows them and loves anyway. He sees it all. No hiding.