The Maid of Honor

I could feel the warm caress of sunlight trailing from my fingers to my shoulder as I stretched and turned over. My eyes were still closed, one hand scratching my scalp as a yawn erupted from my throat in response to my body’s awakening. I didn’t want to open my eyes. That would mean the end of my nap and the end of my escape.

I didn’t know how long I had been away, but if the sun was out, I probably missed the rest of the debauchery of the wedding after-party. My best friend, Cassie, had finally met her match and traversed down the aisle to further solidify her love by intertwining herself legally with Paolo. Cassie had been a constant staple in my life, from when we were little girls pretending to be our favorite Spice Girl, right through every heartbreak and identity crisis.

Then she met Paolo, and our constant became different. Our girls' nights were fewer, our late-night calls less frequent, and annual vacations now included Paolo. But I like Paolo. And I like Paolo for Cassie. I love how he makes her smile. The way he’s patient with her while she’s amid an anxiety attack. How he comforts her in ways that most women would have a hard time believing he is the real deal.

Before Paolo proposed, he asked me to tag along with his mother and sister to help pick out the ring. It was my stamp of approval that was needed for the final purchase. I helped with the setup at the proposal site, the engagement dinner, the wedding planner, the bridal shower, and the bachelorette party. The million and one fittings. The endless calls to vendors when Cassie or her mother were too stressed to handle the mistakes or miscommunications. The blowups between family members at the reception who felt slighted because of their distance from the bride and groom.

I needed a break. I was tired. I didn’t want to dance with any more groomsmen. Or try to dodge Paolo’s unsavory uncle, who likes to touch your arm in a manner that causes you to jerk your arm back as you plaster a fake smile. My feet hurt; I was tipsy when I said I would nap. I didn’t realize how tired I was.

With another stretch and a side tilt, I caught the scent of fresh flowers and grass instead of the starched linen hotel sheets of the bed I knew I had fallen into. My hands felt around, feeling nothing but the soft, tickling prickle of grass and the flat, veiny leaves of weeds.

At this, my eyes popped open. I took in the bright blue sky above me, littered with a few stringy white clouds that floated by. The sun was not yet high in the sky, but it looked like it had been present for some time. Flowers bloomed all around me, spilling over bushes and trees. Sprouting from the grass I laid on, and even riding on the wind.

I sat up, taking in the splendor of this garden world that surrounded me in wonder. I was never one for nature, but this garden had a beauty that even someone as jaded and materialistic as myself could appreciate. But there was also something that was off about this garden. As my eyes roamed the trees and bushes, I slowly realized no birds were chirping.

The telltale birdsong we typically ignore and take for granted was eerily missing from this otherwise serenely wild place. More so than that, there were no creatures or animals to be seen. No squirrels racing up trees or rabbits hopping along on the garden floor. No cats or dogs. Nothing wild or domesticated.

“Are you hungry yet, child?” a voice said behind me. The sound was soft, like silk, with a hint of a musicality that chimed at the end of each word.

Child. Wiping around to say anything, I was met with a tall figure unlike any I had ever seen before. It stood on two legs, possibly the only normal thing about it. Its face was oval, a reddish brown, like the red clay in the Southwest. Its torso was also elongated, thick, and encased in dark brown bark. Its arms and legs were proportionally shorter than its torso as it stood among the flowers, staring with black iris-less eyes.

I blinked. It did not. It moved closer. I did not.

“Are you hungry yet, child?” it asked again. This time, the head tilted. When it moved, its mouth showed rows and rows of sharp, splintered wooden teeth and a roving, purple tongue. It clasped its hands and bowed a little as it stopped its advance.

“You seemed to enjoy your dream, and I did not want to wake you. But time is slipping away. If you do not eat now. It will soon be midday.”

“Mid…day?” My throat burned as the word croaked from my lips. It could still be from the alcohol. “Where is everyone? Where is the hotel?” I must still be asleep.

“The child is still dreaming, it seems,” the creature sighed. It sounded like a disappointed mother trying to get a child up for school. “There are no others, just you, child. Now come. Fresh berries and apples are waiting for you to devour them. And when you’ve had your fill, you will finally be free.”

Free? This didn’t make sense. The creature helped me into a standing position before flicking away stray bits of grass from the periwinkle, strapless maid of honor dress I still wore. I still wore the dress.

“Wait. What am I doing here? What is here?” I wanted to know more about this place. How did I end up in the garden, and why were there no birds?

The creature paused. It glanced back at me with unblinking black eyes. “Do you not know where you are, child?”

I shook my head once, suddenly fearful of the answer.

The creature sighed again, raising its full height, towering over me. I did not know whether to be intimidated or to feel reassured that it was trying to find the best way to soften the explanation.

“We are in the underworld.”

What. “Like…as in Greek mythology Hades…underworld?”

“They may have gotten a few tidbits wrong,” the creature began slowly as it moved on.

“But why am I here?”

The creature turned back again. This time, it looked perplexed. “Child, do you not realize that you are dead?”

My eyes widened as I tried to think back. Back to what I thought were mere hours ago. I stumbled back to my room. Drunker than I initially thought I was. I banged into the door once I got it open. My feet hurt so much. And I fought with the straps. There was a knock on the door. I opened it with a shoe in one hand and the other barely on.

Brian was on the other side of the door. One of the groomsmen I was dancing with. I guess he was trying his luck. We were joking around, and I fell. I slipped because of my shoe, and I fell. I hadn’t fallen into my bed as I thought. The back of my head hit the nightstand as I fell into the bed. The last thing I heard was Brian panicking as he called the front desk and an ambulance.

And then I felt the sun.