As I stared at my reflection and touched up my makeup, my pulse raced. I knew there were tons of people out there, sitting on those white chairs, the pretty ones with the sheer ribbon bows — so many faces I wasn't familiar with because there were quite a few more guests from Brian’s family who had been invited, than my own. Brian’s big Italian family wouldn’t have it any other way. I knew the Priest was probably standing on the stage, next to the lovely white archway covered with pink flowers. Brian’s aunt Colleen would be at the piano in the corner, waiting to get the go-ahead. Brian’s brothers were probably standing in their black tuxes, impatient.
I started to visibly shake and found it difficult to reapply my lipstick. I was clammy and breathless. It was happening again. A full-on panic attack. And that realization only made it worse. Before long, I couldn’t breathe at all. I needed some air.
I dashed out of the dressing room, and when my mother and Anika attempted to follow me, I screamed at them and begged them to leave me alone. I told them that if they took one more step, I would throw myself in the small pond nearby. And since I’ve always been a little crazy, they weren’t taking any chances. They backed up obediently.
As I ran away from the hall, every step brought me closer to serenity. I breathed in the hot summer air and felt free. I no longer had to worry about anything. It was just me and this beautiful land; fields, trees, blue skies and horses in the distance. I wasn’t sure where I was going or what I was doing, but I headed in the direction of the red barn.
Once inside, I felt even calmer, in spite of the not-so-pleasant smell; manure and hay. The place was dark, like my mood, and deserted. It was perfect — I just wanted to be alone. A few horses poked out their heads curiously. They were kept in individual stalls and I wondered if they liked it, if it was all they ever knew, or if they longed to escape. I could relate at the time because I felt trapped. I loved Brian with all my heart, but it was all too much for someone like me.
I hiked up the skirt of my dress as I slowly ventured in. I walked around, saying hello to the horses. A beautiful white spotted beauty drew me in and I tentatively reached out to her. I spotted an orange cat sneaking out of a room and decided to go explore. When I opened the door, I found a laundry room of sorts. On one side was a washer and dryer and an industrial sink, shelves of supplies, and on the other side, saddles and reins hanging on the wall. Names were printed under each saddle: WINSTON, PUMPKIN, OSCAR, PEPPER, and so on.
I smiled when I caught sight of another fluffy grey cat, nestled in a cozy cat bed, right on top of the dryer. When I approached him and stroked him under the chin, he purred, loving every second of it. As I was petting him, I could feel my heartbeat slow and my pulse ease. Just then, I spotted another cat camouflaged in the supplies on the shelf. Black and white, he was stretched out comfortably, sleeping. He reminded me of one of those I SPY books I loved as a kid. Can you spot the kitty?
Just then, I heard a sound outside and my breath hitched. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be in there, especially in a wedding gown. I was quite the sight, I was sure. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his face. He was beautiful in his black tuxedo. We weren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony.
“It’s bad luck for you to see me in my wedding dress,” I said, my words just above a whisper.
He smiled. “You’re not usually the superstitious type. I’m surprised you believe that.”
“I don’t, really.” I stared down at my billowy dress.
“I had to come and find you,” he said sweetly, no hint of anger or disappointment in his voice. He understood. He knew me like no one else.
“I just needed a breather,” I explained. “I panicked. I’m so sorry.”
He inched closer and closed the distance between us. “It’s okay.” He scooped me up in his arms, and I held on tightly to him for the longest time.
“You still want to marry me?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
He laughed. “I do. I know what I’m getting into, Mischa. There’s no one else for me.”
I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. “You’re too good to me.”
“I knew this day would be hard for you.”
I looked away, embarrassed, ashamed of the unstable person I was. The cat on the shelf was studying us curiously. I turned my gaze back to Brian’s. “I really want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s just this whole wedding thing…”
He held me tighter. “I know.”
After a long while, he finally convinced me to walk back to the chapel, and with him by my side, I found the courage to face all those people, to take that giant step.
To marry the man I loved.
11
My compulsions have driven me to this not so pleasant spot again; sitting on a public bus, sandwiched between a small asian woman and a large portly man. The man has body odor, and the woman’s perfume is overwhelming — the mix of the two is completely nauseating.
Thankfully, Iamin need of a haircut. I usually go every six weeks or so. I flick Joel’s business card between my fingers, a nervous habit. I’ve written my appointment time on it. I’ve specifically requested Joel. I told the receptionist that a friend strongly recommended him. I’m really doing this.
I dig into my handbag and place the card in my wallet. I grab my phone, and I’m strongly compelled to check his profile again on Facebook. I love his profile photo — he’s so beautiful. But is this photo deceiving? People are generally much more attractive on social media than they are in real life. Although it certainly wasn’t the case with Ava and Renee — they are both stunning. I wonder if he’s as nice and fun as he seems on Facebook. His smile is playful, and his big brown eyes are friendly. There’s also something bedroom-ish about them.
I scroll through his feed, giddy. I hope he’s as extroverted as he seems in these photos. Although Renee was very polite and welcoming, her friendliness felt somewhat forced. She was essentially a saleswoman. It must be exhausting to have to deal with people and be polite and charming all day. I could never do it. I’m way too introverted, and have a bad tendency to be too honest. I’d be too truthful, not able to sell a woman a dress if it didn’t suit her figure. Unfortunately, we’re not all built like supermodels, and many styles don’t work for most women. I know I look ridiculous in wide bottom pants and puffy sleeved tops.
I wonder if I’ll be able to get closer to Joel than I did Renee. Will I be able to get some answers? Most hairdressers are chatty by nature. Katrina doesn’t shut up, but I like it because I can just relax and listen — I don’t need to make dreaded small talk. I really hate talking about myself.
The woman next to me scares the pants off me when she blurts, ““Very handsome. Is that your boyfriend?”
Oh God, I’m mortified. “Um… no.”No, just someone I’m obsessively cyber stalking. I’m taking it farther today… stalking him in real life.
