I Don’t Want To I Do
She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. Wearing a gold-colored gown recently purchased from the thrift store, she watched as tears began to run their race from her brown eyes down to her flushed cheeks, messing up her carefully applied makeup. She always knew she'd cry on her wedding day, but never did she imagine they would be from anything but joy. What had brought her to this moment? How had her life that had started with such promise turn into such a corkscrew?
She thought about her estranged parents. Like most teenagers, she hadn't liked their rules, so she left, in search of greener pastures. That road, which was neither yellow nor brick, had taken her to sleeping on various friends' couches then into an affair with a married man and finally to this moment, where she would soon say "I do" to a man over twice her age. She had only agreed because, after inviting her to "temporarily" live with him rent-free, he had then threatened to toss her out if she said no and she didn't want to go back to wondering every day where she would lie her head that night. Nor was returning to her parents' house an option; to her, this marriage-to-be was still the lesser of two evils.
Her soon-to-be husband knocked on the door. "Are you about ready?"
"Yes. Just a moment."
"Just a moment what?"
"Just a moment...honey." She nearly choked on the endearment as it stung her tongue and her throat, as the bile from such a lie made its way to her stomach to mix with the acid therein.
Making sure she had her something old (a pretty heart necklace she "borrowed" from a friend), something new (her golden slippers with the lovely ribbon laces, tied just so) something borrowed (a hair-clip really borrowed from another friend, now helping to hold her light brown hair in a poorly-made bun), and something blue (some of the fake flowers in her "bouquet"), she tried to tell herself that it wouldn't be so bad. That Larry really did love her and would treat her well. She actually smiled for a moment, thinking about the way he'd approach her counter at her job at McDonald's and order his usual. "Coffee with two creams and no need for sugar; just swirl your pinky finger in it and it'll be sweet enough," he'd say. She used to laugh at his joke, thinking he was just being a funny old man, but then he got serious and his words made her shiver with fear rather than delight.
Oh, my God, I can't do this! she thought. I have to get out of this, somehow...but how?!
Before she could fully formulate a plan, there was another knock on the door.
"It's time. The minister's here and so are our witnesses. Hurry up!"
"Yes...dear," she said, despair settling in her stomach. With one last look in the mirror, she cleared her throat, clutched her little bouquet and headed for the door, to begin what for most women would be their dream day, but for her would be the beginning of a nightmare.
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This' actually a true story, taken from my life, from when I married my first husband... I won't post it in this challenge, but I'll post another tale from my second terrible wedding day in 'Nonfiction'... Yes, seriously.