Bella

I watch a parade of white dresses cross the floor as I sit in an expensive boutique somewhere in Uptown New York, amid a sea of storefronts that sell everything from the best fashions to the best eats. Women wear red bottom shoes and have tall, towering figures as they cruise by window shopping with a large gaggle of girlfriends in tow.

A girl like me doesn’t quite fit into this type of scene. I’m much more of a ‘downtown’ type, where you can buy designer knock-offs like Louis Vuitton handbags with only one symbol missing and DVD movies that have released before they’re even in the theater—and they cost one dollar, like Marvel’s sensational Logan film. Sure, it sucks to miss out on the CGI stuff but it’s also kind of neat to see something before all the magic’s complete.

Anyhow, Alexander made my appointment and assured me this was the place to buy my wedding dress. I’m the only customer in the shop and my only ‘sort of’ friend from work, Camille, is here to help me pick out a dress. She’s a little over the top which works well for me, because she does all the talking and it is usually about herself. Those are the kinds of friends I can afford to have. And why I have so few. The less people questioning my life the better.

“I like the blush rose.” Camille takes a bite of a petite tea sandwich. “I think it’s tacky to wear runway white. I mean are we getting married or landing airplanes, ya know?”

There’s a wardrobe rolled out in the middle of the floor with every style you could possibly imagine. I should probably feel overjoyed, like flying, soaring … but I'm firmly planted on the ground. Some parts of my life with Alexander are harder to fake than others.

“The heck’s with you?” She nudges. “You’re like off in lala land. This is the best part.” She takes another bite of her sandwich and then with a full mouth says, “Aww, you’re getting cold feet, aren’t you?”

I nod but lying at this point feels like such a dumb thing to do anymore. There are only so many lies that I can swallow down and make room for inside of me. They’re about to start overflowing.

“Have you ever done something you’re not proud of?”

Camille’s brown eyes widen for a moment and then she laughs around her sandwich. “Who was he?” she asks, nudging my shoulder again. “Spill it all. Every last detail.” But before I can even get a word out she begins to run off at the mouth about how her exes are exes because she cheated. Or was cheated on. And then we move right into, “You know what’s wrong with New York? There’s too many of us and too little of them. We outnumber men by like I don’t even know … ten to one?” She grabs a cupcake and peels away the wrapper, then tosses the bottom half on the dessert tray, only taking a huge bite out of the top-iced portion. “It’s like half the calories if you don’t eat the bottom. I’m not wasting calories on cake that isn’t even freakin’ iced.”

I laugh at her and decide blush rose looks pretty damn good.

She waits, eating her way through the minutes as I try it on. It takes what seems like forever to get it on and all clipped into place. I come out to the open floor and spin around to look at myself in the triple mirror. I look like a decent person in the dress. A good woman. But my skin crawls as I think of the words that have to accompany the gown.

Love

Trust

Honor

Obey

Faithful

I’m pretty sure just thinking of those words in a bridal shop will ensure I burst into flames.

I make the selection, say goodbye to Camille, and then grab a cab to meet Alexander for our next appointment with the caterer. We spend hours sampling fancy puff pastries filled with expensive things, but I don’t taste a thing. Alexander kisses my hand as Sandra jots down the specifics of our order. “I can’t believe in just a few weeks you’ll be my wife.”

I force a smile. “I know.” And I kiss his cheek.

This is my ordinary, and I should be a glowing bride-to-be. I should be giddy and bubbling with happiness.

“I have to go into the hospital later today. I’ll be home late.”

I nod. “Ok.”

Being with a doctor comes with a hectic life. But, Alexander tries so hard to spend time with me.

“Let’s go home. I have a surprise for you.” He’s smiling and oh so happy. He’s got the feelings I should be having.

We head back to his place. Even though I live here too, it still always feels like hisplace to me. It’s not the type of place I would have picked. It’s stark and white, clinical like a hospital.

“Here,” he says, handing me a little box as we stand in the kitchen.

I grab at the red ribbon, and open the box. Two sparkling diamond earrings stare back at me. I smile. “Thank you, I love them.” I kiss Alex on the lips.

“Put them on,” he says as I closed the box.

“Oh ok.” I fish them out of the package and put them into my ears.

He grips my face with his hands. “Looks good on my girl.” The way he says it sounds possessive, a way he’s never spoken to me before.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he says against my ear.

I push back. “Alex?”

He spins me around and pushes my head down face first on the counter. “Let me fuck my girl.”

It’s all rough and all wrong. He slobbers against my skin.

“Alex,” I push a little harder this time, “I told you we’re waiting until after our wedding.”

He’s just huff’n and puff’n, and I finally wiggle myself free.

“Stop. What is going on with you?” I breathe hard.

“Nothing.” His eyes are on fire. “I need to get ready for work. Do you work tonight?” he asks as he stalks out of the kitchen.

“I do.”

The words ‘I do’ nearly get stuck in my throat. Two weeks. Only two weeks and then I’ll be married.

“I have to work late too,” he says, like he always says every night.

“You work too much.” I try to be playful, like I’m joking, but his eyes pierce through me.

“I’m a busy man.”