Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence
I never was overly comfortable with the idea of getting married abroad, purely because it seemed a bit strange to be saying my wedding vows in a country that I don’t speak the language of. That and the fact that it meant that the people that were coming had to travel a long way and couldn’t just pop in to the reception after work if they couldn’t get the day off.
The hotel was just over the road from the place we’d actually said our vows in. It was funny how much she stood out, sitting on the floor on the plaza outside the hotel. I looked up at my new husband in disbelief.
“You invited her.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think she’d actually come.”
It was difficult to contain my excitement, but at the same time I felt myself slowly fill with anticipation.
“Will you talk to her?”
He looked at me like I’d just asked him to sell everything he owned.
I pulled him close to me by the lapels on his blazer and pressed my cheek onto the knot of his tie.
“Because I’m scared.”
After a little while he stepped back and looked at me with his icy blue eyes before heading over to her. My heart flipped in my chest for the first time that day, but I focused myself on being nonchalant, looking in every other direction to give off some impression of either having not seen her or at least not cared if I had. How had this happened? I’d never even met her. Come on, she might not even be nice. How. Just how. Maybe I should stay away, this has got very weird very quickly.
After he spoke to her I dragged him to get some drinks, purposely turning my back on her so she’d never know I noticed.
“Are you not going to say hello after all that?”
“It’s too weird.”
She’s still there isn’t she. She brought people with her as well. Well, I guess she had to. This is not normal. I’ve ignored everyone because I’ve been looking at her and I’ve ignored her because I didn’t want her to know.
Oh no. This is it then. Why the hell did I do this to myself?
I was right. Or wrong, depending on how you look at it. This girl is hilarious. Her friends are hilarious. I spent the rest of my wedding day on the floor outside the hotel emptying beer bottles with the stranger I knew so well. I don’t know where my husband and all the guests even went. I just very suddenly became aware of the fact that there were only the five of us – me, her and her three acquaintances – left. It didn’t take long for the excitable conversation to die out and the coldness of reality to set in.
“What’s going on with all this then anyway?”
“Well, you haven’t seemed to interact much with your husband at your own wedding, so-”
I slumped down more than I was already, and my shoe fell off.
For a while we watched the locals wobble in and out of a pub on the corner of the road. It had an almost magical feel, like it had been trapped in a time capsule and placed back 50 years later. The wooden building coupled with the glass tankards of beer being clumsily spilt down simple clothes covering hairy chests reminded me of the classic film scene, you know, when the protagonist ends up in some pub full of rowdy men but they all turn out to be big softies. If I spoke the language, I think I’d have joined them. I’d do many things to avoid heading up to the honeymoon suite tonight.
I tried to wrap my head around this day. It was meant to be the happiest day of my life, of course, and it absolutely was. The dress, the decorations, my family and friends, saying vows, the food, my now-to-be-called husband… None of that mattered. This was the best, sitting here on the floor in a white dress with my head nested on her shoulder, trying to get my shoe back on by only moving that one foot with the help of one of her friends who I’d never met but felt like I’d always known, while he laughed lazily.
“I don’t know.”
I thought about him. He was probably waiting for me now, if he hadn’t already given up waiting and gone to find someone else to keep him company in the meantime. I’m deadly serious, I’d absolutely not put it past him to do that. It didn’t matter really, did it. We might both be in this for our own reasons, and they are the wrong reasons, but they’re reasons. He’s got lovely eyes, and his smile just has a way of winning you over. He knows the right things to say and he plays the part of the perfect man if I need him to. This might be a good thing, you never know. I just can’t quite accept the fact that this is it now, and she isn’t helping.
I wore her long, plaited hair like a scarf, twisting the ends through my fingers while we talked about the world. She came here today because she just knew it was important, whatever that was supposed to mean. She travelled here to come to the wedding of two people that she didn’t even know existed. Weirdo.
The empty bottles around us grew in number until we were begrudgingly ordered to move inside by the hotel staff. I dragged myself up to the room that would contain either a suspiciously happy or devilishly angry husband, and put on a plastic smile.
It would be nice to say that things went downhill, but they didn’t really. He just got a bit more careless. He was untouchable now, because so was I. I didn’t need to work or go anywhere, I could be at home with him or waiting for him.
I thought about her a lot, and what she meant by each little comment she made on that strange night we spent on the floor outside that colourful building. I’d almost convinced myself it hadn’t happened until I found one of her hairs on my dress when I’d taken it to be cleaned. Unless I’d made that bit up too. Part of me wanted to reach out and continue this mysterious friendship, but I just didn’t have the courage. She saw through him, and that would be a problem. He was always so good at looking like a prince and I argued with anyone that said otherwise, even myself.
She still managed to make me laugh everyday until it became too painful and I cut it all off. It was for the best, this was my life now, inside these walls with this perfect monster.
His grip got stronger. Maybe it was because each day was like a workout for the muscles he used to do these things. But it reached a point that I realised it couldn’t carry on, not for me but for him. What would he go on to do if I wasn’t here to take it?
I’d managed to reach for a window handle, air jumping from my lungs with each blow. There was someone coming past, she had a gentle face. He was too preoccupied by his fists to notice at first, so I flung the window open and screamed to the stranger. I begged her for help, to call someone, do something. She scowled at me and grabbed the hands of her two little girls.
“I’ve got kids out here!”
As my only hope strutted off down the road with a child in each hand, I spotted someone I recognised instantly – my own mother. I panicked. This was my precious husband, my Prince Charming. She’d paid for the wedding. He stopped and went to open the door and act like the gentleman he always did but it was too late. I pulled up my sleeves and revealed the purple spots and red lines that he’d lovingly decorated my skin with.
She went mad, shouting angrily. How dare I. How dare I allow him to do this. How dare I then take it upon myself to broadcast it to the whole town. She’d never be able to look at him the same now, because of me. Yet she’d have to act like nothing had changed, because everyone liked him.
Until death do us part.