Bunkersville Bride

I’m not a person who usually asks for much. I’m patient while waiting in the usually hours-long weekly rations line, letting little old ladies cut in front if need be; I offer what extra time I have to coworkers low on their quota; I even give any extra rations to the neighbors if they're struggling. If you need a favor, I’m usually on the top of people’s lists. 

But this is where I cross the line.

Back before all this shit happened, you could watch all of those reality television shows, “90 Day Fiance,” “Married at First Sight,” “Hell’s Kitchen;” all that trash TV that was too easy to get sucked in to. I would let someone piss in my mouth and gulp it down like I just got back from a trip through the desert, if I could rewatch the “90 Day” season with Big Ed.

But I digress. What stuck with me from when I was probably seven years old was watching the women on “Say Yes to the Dress” light up with emotion at the sight of them in the perfect gown. I wanted to be them. I even made my mom buy me a poofy, white dress to wear, looking into the bathroom mirror, standing tip-toed on a stool, yelling out in my shrill child voice, “I’m saying ‘Yes’ to the dress!!!” I definitely fell off that stool one or two times doing that. 

When It happened, it didn’t even pass my mind that getting my dream dress would be something I could never make a reality. I guess it makes sense though. My mind was too focused on all of the people dying and the panic and all that shit. 

What brought the memory back was Jer. 

Jer is the kindest, sweetest, loveliest man I’ve ever met. Hate to make a Dad Joke, but when I’m with him, the literal apocalypse could happen and I wouldn’t know it. Har har. But really.

That finally brings me to my point. The one thing I will ask of this fucked up world is that I will be able to find my perfect wedding dress. And I don’t care what I gotta do to get it.

Jer took me into his patented Morning Squeeze. No, that isn’t a euphemism. Jer’s Morning Squeeze is only reserved for people he would kill for. He coats you in every ounce of his emotion with the warmth of his silky-smooth embrace. It almost feels like I could punch a ravenous tiger or something after one, not that I’ve seen a tiger around in quite some time. But this morning’s Squeeze felt strange. The energy from him held not only love. It was a bit of fear.

He knew I wasn’t just going out on my normal route. The crew and I always stuck to the same half-mile area we were ordered to, around, what I lovingly call this barely-standing town, Bunkersville. There was some shoddy looking chain link fence built on the perimeter, obviously not strong enough to keep people out, so sometimes we came upon a squatter or passerby once in a while. Seeing an unknown person after this long can either make you shit your pants or make you think you were going batshit crazy. I’ve been on both ends of that before. But we’ve already cleaned out every square-inch of the grounds, so they usually end up leaving disappointed, unless the Mayor decides to give them a small parting gift, much to the outrage of us all. But rather the strangers leave with something than have them leave us the gift of dying in our sleep by a pried-open air vent.

With that thought, I deeply inhaled the fresh batch of canned oxygen. The suit’s oxygen always smelled differently than the one circulated through Bunkersville. Before the Dream Dress, my main goal was to hopefully find some Febreeze tucked away in some old grandma’s floral bathroom, so I wouldn’t have to smell all my neighbors’ shit and piss from the literally shit sewer system. You’d think I’d be used to what smells like rotting pea soup shit by now. At least I’m not the one designated with emptying out the tank every month. Talk about wanting to retire early.

This shift was always the slowest. The few people assigned were either hungover or wanted to keep to themselves. I managed to get a few of them talking though. I don’t think they’d blab about this.

I felt with rubber sausage fingers the folded paper map I had put in the suit’s outer pocket. My heart was beating fast, but the sound of the paper calmed me a bit. We all exited through the decom room and out one of the side doors. The sight of lush, bright green forest and a few destroyed remnants of a small town greeted us. Before, this probably would’ve been one of those towns you’d have to scroll really really close to in Google Maps before the name popped up. Bunkersville, U.S.A! Where most of the population is dead, and the rest are just dead inside! Haha, just kidding. 

Me and the four other people making up our crew diverted paths with helmeted nods. Not trying to look too eager, I scanned the tree line with my eyes. If you made binoculars with your hands and peered through, it’d probably look like a normal forest, with lush, tall trees and knee-high wild grass. It almost tempted me to take off my helmet, yelling out, “It’s normal again! I can breathe!” I said, almost. I’m not stupid.

I made my way over toward the eastern side of the fence, checking for any of the crew’s wandering eyes. Not a gray suit in sight. So, I faced the chain link fence and forest beyond, and took out my treasure map. About 10 miles away was a bigger town. Definitely doable within my shift. I could pretty much follow the interstate straight into town. Right smack dab in the center was the treasure I was looking for. Stuck between what seemed like an old froyo shop and a shoe store, was Haven Bridal. Never heard of it in my life, but it was going to become my favorite store in the world. The map was from 2012, but everyone needed a wedding dress before all this, right? Wedding dress stores were like Oprah. You get a dress! You get a dress! Everyone gets a dress! It definitely would still be standing.

After delicately returning the treasure map to my pocket, I took one last glance back at the decrepit landscape. With no one looking my way, I hopped the fence and started through the forest.

Welcome to Philipstown! was written in fancy cursive on a small sign that would probably be barely legible to someone speeding down the interstate. But the view ahead was turning into more of a downtown area. It had been so long since I’d seen this type of housing, rows of thin two-story apartment buildings almost touching each other and in alternating muted colors. I couldn’t help but stop and stare for a moment. A part of me wanted to pick the granny-est looking house and find that Febreeze, but another part of me was imagining how full of life these buildings used to be. I had walked down streets just like this with my mom to the local duck pond and badly threw bits of bread at them. I was too young to use the internet to find out that bread isn’t good for ducks, but my ignorant baby self enjoyed the little quacks and the what-seemed-like swaths of them at my short height, lured by the treats.

I hadn’t seen a duck, let alone a bird, since all this shit happened. It is strange and kinda off putting to not hear the old ambient caws, whistles, and tweets, but really I was missing the taste of chicken; Fried chicken, baked chicken, Buffalo-soaked chicken wings. I might even risk a bite of chicken raw, if the hand of the non-existent God dropped down from the clouds and offered it...

No! It’s not the time for food! Although, I really wished I thought about that before and threw a smoothie bag into my suit or something. 

Pushing ahead, I followed the sidewalk in front of the rows of apartments. I pulled out the map. Only a few more cross streets between me and My Dream Dress! I started into a run. The thud of the boots was louder than I expected on the concrete sidewalk, but it didn’t stop me. I saw far down the street a building with a large sneaker-shaped sign. I beelined for the shoe, a park and church passing my peripheral vision. At the shoe, I stopped and caught my breath. This suit was fucking heavy sometimes. Definitely never ran this far in one before. But I was here. I almost didn’t want to look over. One might say, it was the Schrodinger's Cat of buildings. Sorry, I will never say that again.

I looked to the right of the shoe store. Was it Haven Bridal? The sun’s glare on the windows blinded me, so I approached the building. Through the windows I could see racks upon racks of white and off-white intricate dresses lining the walls of the store. I couldn’t stop the smile growing on my face. I looked up at the store’s sign. Haven Bridal. And underneath in smaller lettering, Your Refuge for All Things Wedding. Next came the tears. 

The glass windows and door were untouched. I couldn’t believe it. I guess I wasn’t the only person who totally forgot about dresses and weddings. Grand events like that are just fantasy now. 

 I grabbed the handle and pulled. The door didn’t budge, but glass doors like this could be easily shattered with a large rock or something. I wasn’t gonna let a tiny little glass panel like this stand in the way between me and My Dream Dress. I peered down the thin downtown streets and saw what looked like an old bank with a short wall made of stones in front of it. Banks used to be way too try-hardy about their image. Like I was gonna choose a bank because of a tiny stone wall out front. But I guess I should thank Philipstown Credit Union because they were about to help me break and enter.

I grabbed a few of the larger stones off of the top of the wall and set them down at Haven Bridal’s door. Gaining some momentum with my legs, I threw one, and it was beautiful. It went clean through the door, shattering a nice opening for me. It was so satisfying. Definitely wanted to keep breaking windows for the hell of it, but I didn’t want any glass shards in My Perfect Dress. And didn’t want any holes in my suit, so I pushed out the remaining shards in the door with a longer rock and stepped through.

Suddenly, I’m in a dream. I am entering Kleinfeld with my mom and Jer. I am being greeted by Randy with cameras catching different angles of the interaction. We hug. I say, “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve watched every episode!” Randy laughs and touches my arm. He leads me to the dressing room. He and another consultant pull a few dresses out for me. I try on a lace mermaid with a long train and sleeves. I cry at the sight of it in the mirror. I love it. I step out and show my mom and Jer. They both get tears in their eyes. My mom says, “I wanted to see you in more dresses! But I know this is the one.” We all laugh in happiness. Randy finishes my look with a veil. He and the consultant ask me the question, “Are you saying ‘Yes’ to the dress?” I yell out,

“I’m saying ‘Yes’ to the dress!”

With at least five dresses over each arm, I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Starting the long walk back, images of My Dream Wedding swirled around my head like a cotton candy machine.

Maybe I should invite Randy.