Prologue : Jitters
Do you ever just stop and think?
I mean, you could be walking down the street and a thought just hits you, and you just have to stop and think about it. Your feet just stick to the floor as your head whirs around this question that you can’t believe you over looked before, and before you can move on you have to answer it (or shove it somewhere deep so you can think about it later).
They’re sometimes an amazing revelation; but sometimes you just want to stamp your feet and yell “God damn it!”
Like right now for instance. Half way down the frigging isle and my feet are stuck to the floor. I mean, really, did I have to get the jitters right now? After a year planning this, half way through the bridal march, walking behind my nieces-to-be, looking at the back of Daniels head, treading on little petals – that’s when I get the revelation that I don’t know why the hell I’m here?
Can you say bad timing or what?
What are you doing here Lilly? my mind whispers; and you know what? I just cannot answer that little voice, anymore than I can take another step towards that altar.
The vicar looks questioningly at me, then smiles comfortingly, beckoning me forwards; but my feet take a faltering step backwards. Looking around the church I see his family with the same looks on their faces, I see our friends looking nervous.
Half way down the isle and now I have 3 choices (well, two really, but…) I could take a deep breath and get on with this (not happening!), I could run out of that door and keep running until I’m away (sounds good to me), or I could go up there and apologise to everyone (the sensible, responsible thing to do).
One thing I’m sure of - I can’t get married here; not today, not to Daniel.
Closing my eyes for a moment I hear the organist fail and the gathered crowds begin to talk. Taking a deep breath, my feet move forwards and my eyes open to see a relieved Daniel looking over his shoulder. Damn, why did he have to look at me with those innocent eyes?
Reaching the front of the church, his eldest niece reaches for my bouquet of lilies.
I’d insisted on white lilies and baby’s breath for my bouquet; his mother had been devastated saying they were for funerals.
“I like them.” had been my steadfast reply as we continued with preparations. God knows how many times she tried to change my mind, telling me they were an omen of sorrow. I had brushed it off at the time, and now I’m glad they’re in my hands; the only part of this wedding that is entirely me.
Pausing, I hand the white flowers to my groom, taking a breath of relief. His confusion is sweet in a sad kind of way.
“I can’t do this.” I tell him quietly; though I’m pretty sure the whole congregation can hear my every word.
“I’m so sorry Daniel. I just… “
His eyes search mine, trying to find the answer I can’t voice. If he thinks about it long enough, he’ll work it out. He’s a smart guy.
Sighing in defeat, I kiss him on the cheek one last time and walk away.
Climbing out of the taxi outside the house we had been moving into for the past month, I half expect to see his car outside; but, of course, it isn’t. I cut across the lawn (something Daniel has always been so against), and let myself into the picture-book house that’s been in Daniels family for years. The hallway is so neat and I feel my head shaking as I wonder how on earth I’ve been putting up with this for so long. My reflection greets me as I turn and close the door.
Is that me?
The pale eye shadow looks so strange on me, my blonde hair lighter than it used to be piled on top of my head, light pink lipstick still shimmering beside the porcelain foundation covering my skin. The silver cross around my neck is the strangest sight of all; well, other than the tacky diamond earrings and white bridal gown.
White? Eugh!
Still, the cross bugs me most. I practically pull it off, dropping it on the table nearby; hurriedly I pull out the huge, garish earrings and sling them next to the necklace on the table. Looking at my reflection I smile a little.
Better; definitely better.
Upstairs I struggle out of the white contraption that months before I had been assured was the most beautiful dress ever. The embroidered lace seems over the top now that I'm not in ‘Betty-Crocker-home-maker’ mode. Leaving it slung on the bed I chuck myself into the bathroom and wash my painted face. There's still a bobble on the sink that I'd been using to hold my hair back every morning while I applied the layers of make-up, a scrunchy that I used to love. It's on my wrist while I start digging in the closet.
My oldest jewellery box, literally a cardboard box covered in denim, is still safely hidden away at the back. It has all the stuff I used to wear in it, all the stuff from before. I pause for a second in my rush to sniff at this box. Odd as that sounds, it smells like hope.
Finaly, my beloved pentacle secured around my neck on a new bootlace, a t-shirt and jeans (that I had stashed in the wardrobe) over my white bridal shoes, and my keys to the apartment I had yet to completely empty in my pocket, I sling the a fading rucksack over my shoulder. It has all my other treasures jumbled in it - a diary, my jewlery, a favourite book... All the things I brought with me that have survived these few years. I head out to hitch another ride.
Hesitating on the threshold, I step back in and scribble a note to Daniel on the pad next to the phone.
Daniel,
I'm sorry it took me so long to work all this out,
I'm going home.
Good Luck
Lilly x
Back in the autumn air I breathe a sigh of relief.
Freedom.
I run a hand through my hair (still thick with curls and hairspray and pins that hurt. I'll sort it out soon enough) and smile.
Time to go home.
No comments:
Post a Comment