The Reluctant Bride: part 2

Cover page

Inhale...1...2...3... Exhale.

I repeat the exercise five more times before finally opening my eyes. Through the white tulle veil covering my face, I stare down the white carpeted church isle, a smattering of red roses paving the way. The brightness of the flowers glare at me like neon signs warning me to turn back.

'DEAD END' they seem to scream. Turn Away Maria! The petals shout, coming to life charging toward me. Uncle hold me still, forcing me to move forward. To the monstrous flowers racing toward me, climbing up my legs. I scream.

I jerk awake from the nightmarish dream, breathing heavily as tears stream down my face. I steal a glance at my new husband, snoring lightly beside me, his mouth slightly parted in his stupor.

Bile forces its way up my throat and I practically fly out of the bed straight to the adjoining bathroom. I shut the door before collapsing in front of the toilet seat, my stomach heaving as the tears continue to roll down my face.

A light knock sounds behind me and I moan something akin to 'no' but my new husband opens the door anyway. He crouches down next to me, rubbing my back in small circles.

"Maria, you're sick again. You should allow me to take you to the hospital. Or at least let me call my doctor," I hear him say, concern dripping with each word spilling from his mouth.

I shake my head, no. Hating myself for not being more appreciative, I pull away from him, grabbing a hand towel in the process to wipe my mouth.

The skimpy nightdress practically falls, hanging on my shoulders and clutching for dear life. I've lost weight since getting married to Jacob.

J-AY-COB

I sound out his name in my mind, for the millionth time. It tastes bitter on my tongue. I wish I could say it was his personality or his looks. I wish I could say it's because he treats me horribly. But quite the contrary.

My husband is surprisingly kind. He was also forced into this situation, a tradition that his family had been practicing for hundreds of years. He is handsome, unnaturally so and he has been treating me with nothing but respect in our three week marriage.

In another world I would have loved to meet someone like him, and to have him as my husband? That would have been wonderful.

But this arrangement, the way things worked out... it makes me sick.

"I'm fine," I snap jerkily pulling my toothbrush out of its holder and squirting some toothpaste on it.

He sighs and I look up at the mirror, watching his retreating frame disappearing out of the room. I sink back down, feeing defeated.

How are we going to make this work?

...

The sound of chattering and an all too familiar pretentious laugh beckons me toward the large living room. My living room. My house. My husband...

I turn the corner to find my mother, dressed in a lavish all white pants suit she never would have afforded, with a glass of red wine touching her red painted lips. The tint looks good in contrast to her dark skin, I must say. But the fake smile she throws my husband as she conns him out of more money.

My molars grind in irritation, but I force a smile to my face.

"Mama," I greet her, smiling.

"Maria," she replies back with false happiness. I can already hear the judgement in her tone without her having said a word. Jacob hands me a ready made cup of tea, just the way I like it. I mutter a thank you, sitting in the proffered seat next to him.

Such a gentleman.

I swallow a scalding gulp of the tea, forcing the sick down once more. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up.

Tears prick my eyes as I allow my mind to fade, fade away from the meaningless conversations. Away from this life.

Away toward darkness.