AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Four Weeks Later
I exhaled with relief,blowing through my recently painted lips, as outside I heard the majority of my family leave in one of the wedding cars.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, a little quieter than I intended, to the dressmaker as I continued to stare at my reflection.
‘Are you really sure, Miss Giordano?’ Not for the first time, her English accent took me by surprise.
I turned my head quickly to look over my shoulder at her and fixing her with a stare I nodded my head abruptly, more abruptly than I meant to. There were a few very good reasons I’d chosen someone English to make my dress, and her not being afraid of what others might think was at the very top of my list.
‘I am.’
‘You do look amazing.’ As she spoke, she moved her hand and gestured to where I stood. ‘But if you don’t mind me saying, your dress is a little unusual, especially for somewhere so wrapped up in tradition.’ I had to admire her intuition, she’d only been here three days and she’d already grasped just who we were. Upon reflection, I was glad she hadn’t got wind of it before her arrival, as I might not have the dress that had come to me in a dream that night. The night I’d learnt that the Don had picked a suitable husband for me but refused to give us any more details than that. As I’d lay in bed that evening, listening to a violent storm outside our bedroom window, bitterness and anger had fuelled my thoughts. Slowly, the black sky had bled into our room, until all I could see and feel was its blackness.
Listening to what she had to say, I turned back to the full-length mirror in front of me and gently smoothed my hands down the fitted lace of the wedding dress I’d designed especially for today.
‘I can assure you that my choices will not reflect on you.’ I watched in the mirror as heat consumed her cheeks. ‘You have been paid, haven’t you?’ I checked.
I watched her nod.
I knew what I’d asked of her was unorthodox. But, understanding that this was likely to be the last sliver of control I had over my life, I was determined to make a statement with my wedding dress.
Maybe it’s too much?
Allowing my hand to travel lower, I adjusted the sweep of the trumpet style train and looked again as the black tulle settled around my legs. Apart from the heavy appliqued lace that lay over my shoulders and followed the low dip of the V at my sternum, demurely cupping the swell of my breasts, the lace was only to be found in a few places, such as on the tulle of my long sleeves, around the very edge of my train, and stretched over the only opaque section, which started at my waist and finished just below the curve of my bum cheeks. The rest of the stunning dress was fitted and see through and showed off the figure that had been created during the few weeks I’d known about this day.
‘I do have a more traditional dress with me. One that would allow you to wear underwear.’
‘No, thank you… my dress is perfect.’ I caught my own eyes in the mirror and nodded resolutely at my decision.
‘Then I’ll be leaving.’
‘There is a car waiting to take you to the airport. Thank you… thank you for everything,’ I offered.
She quickly stepped nearer and after squeezing my hand for a few short seconds she was gone, eager to remove herself from the possible storm my entrance would undoubtedly cause.
As the door closed gently behind her, I offered myself a small, nervous smile as I took in the darker than usual make-up that I’d asked for to compliment my gown. Noticing that it made the bright blue of my eyes pop, for the first time I felt the sick feeling I’d carried around with me for the past couple of weeks begin to dissipate. Catching sight of one of the small strands of flowers in my hair, I touched my fingers to some of the long, dark brown tresses. Turning my head slightly to the side, I once again admired the work that had gone into the half up half down hairstyle I’d requested. It had taken the hairdresser over two hours to wash, curl, plait, and pin it into place, before she’d added the tiny, white gypsophila I’d asked for. I had no veil, another break with tradition on my part. For the umpteenth time, I heard Salvatore inside my head tell me how he’d be the one to lift my wedding veil. Knowing that could never be, I wasn’t going to let the man they’d chosen to marry me off to do what I’d only dreamt of him doing.
My heart began to beat fast as anxiety once again reared its very ugly head.
Breathing in deeply and slowly, I swallowed down the hurt that occasionally crept up from my stupid broken heart and closing my eyes, I ordered myself to regain my composure. Finally, my heart relaxed into a near normal rhythm and I reopened my eyes. Happy with my reflection, I picked up the bouquet of flowers off the high table they’d been placed onto. At first, I held up the long-stemmed calla lilies, tied together with a simple black ribbon, in front of me and then let my arm fall to my side.
Knowing this would be the last time I’d ever be Serafina Giordano that I’d been shaping myself into over the past sixteen years, I took just a few seconds more to absorb everything I was. Then I was ready; well as ready as I’d ever be.
‘Mia.’ I called out her name, knowing she’d be hovering impatiently somewhere outside the guest bedroom my parents had allocated to me for my wedding day.
Both handles on the white double doors to the room pressed down in perfect synchrony and I turned to face one of my two bridesmaids. The other one was to be the groom’s younger sister, and I wouldn’t meet her until I was walking down the aisle.
Slowly, Mia lifted her head and took in the sight of me in my black wedding gown. Her mouth opened and gradually shaped into a perfect circle before a gasp left her.
‘So? And be truthful,’ I demanded.
‘Wow!’
‘Really?’ I questioned.
‘You look like a model… and, Sera, you look so beautiful.’ I smiled at her and watched as her face filled with questions, ‘But aren’t you supposed to be in white like me?’ I’d allowed Mia to choose whatever dress she wanted for the day and my only guidance had been that it should be white, as I wanted the strongest contrast for my own.
‘Possibly.’ I shrugged at her like it wasn’t a big deal and once again felt a flutter of trepidation. I swallowed down the nerves my little sister seemed to have brought into the room with her and carried on. ‘For what is probably theonlytime in my life, I wanted to choose something for myself. Something that may not go with tradition, but it’s something that I wanted.’
