No One's

              Something about looking at my reflection doesn’t sit right with me deep inside the pit of my stomach. I don’t have any problems with the way I look – it has more to do with what I’m wearing. White lace and pearl details cover my body – the dress is beautiful of course, and I am in awe of the craftsmanship and intense intricacies of the garment, but I still have some resentment for what it stands for. White stands to signify purity and virtue as if I’m some kind of soft, gentle girl that has never stepped a single toe out of line. I feel like a liar in this dress. I know who I am and I know the things I’ve done. All I am is an imposter of what my Catholic family wishes I was. Suddenly the tulle and lace is suffocating. 

              Two years ago I met Leon. I wasn’t looking to meet anyone – I know that sounds sweet, like you just happen upon love when you least expect it and all those other sentiments used to comfort people who find themselves without a wedding band as their age ticks higher and higher. But I really wasn’t looking for a relationship. I was looking for a new drug to reduce the tremors that Parkinson’s patients experienced as their condition declined. He happened to be looking for a way to reduce the pain felt by late stage multiple sclerosis patients. We found each other in the same research lab. 

              My father knocks on the door of the room where I am questioning my entire identity. 

              “Come in.”

              He pushes open the door hesitantly and I see his eyes soften as he takes in the image of his daughter in white. My dad is a stoic man, he doesn’t joke, he doesn’t really laugh, and I am certain he does not cry. He uses words only when they are necessary – he is careful with them and that is why when he speaks an entire room will silence itself to listen. 

              “Laura,” he says quietly, “you look beautiful.” I smile half-heartedly. 

              “Thanks Dad.” He seats himself on the couch that the venue placed in the room and I sit down next to him, careful to adjust the train on the dress so it’s out of the way. 

              “I honestly didn’t think I’d see this day,” he started and I cut him off.

              “Don’t do this.”

              “Why not?”

              “Now is not the time to tell me how you thought I’d be alone forever.”

              “No, it’s not like that. I know that you could have any man you wanted, I just was under the impression that you never wanted one. Or at least not that you wanted the same one forever.”

              I had always been vocal about my beliefs about the institution of marriage. They weren’t positive. But it’s hard to have a positive idea of a system when you’ve only seen broken examples. My parent’s marriage has always been hard to be around. They got engaged after four months of knowing each other. This is most likely because my father was 34 and my mother was 28 when they met and both came from religious families with expectations of a traditionally structured family for their children. They weren’t affectionate towards each other and they didn’t see eye to eye about anything. They were more like roommates at this point, and I wasn’t sure if they had ever really felt something deep for each other. They were both looking for someone when they met each other, but in my humble opinion they cut their search tragically short. 

              “Well, regardless of what you thought, here we are,” I say gesturing to my dress and my father’s tuxedo. He nods curtly and places his hand on my knee. 

              “I’m sorry. I’m happy for you and I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.” He uses his fingers to make quotations around the word moment and I wish he wouldn’t have. 

              Leon asked me for a pipette one day to use in his work. I had asked him why he didn’t use his own pipette. He shrugged. 

              “I wanted to talk to you, if I’m being frank.” 

              “About pipettes?”

              “About if you’re free to get lunch.” I thought about the lunch I had forgotten to pack myself.

              “Today?”

              “Why not?” He made a good point. We walked across the street from the lab to a deli and got sandwiches. He got a ham and cheddar and I got a turkey and provolone with an excess of mustard and pickles. We talked and the conversation was easy. The deli became a regular experience for us. And then we added on dinner and shortly after breakfast to the meals that we shared together regularly. 

              “How are you and mom getting along today?” My father’s eyes narrowed at the question. 

              “Fine. Everything is good.” After years of hearing that answer I concluded that things were in fact not good. I didn’t let my mind explore the large possibilities of things that they could be arguing about today. It wasn’t my concern any longer. 

              It had been my concern for the twenty-two years I had lived with them. Falling asleep in my childhood bedroom was one of my least favorite memories because my room resided directly above their room. And lord knows that the floors weren’t thick enough to hide their angry words. Often times I would crawl out of bed and press my ear to my carpet to try and make out what they were harassing each other for. Most of the time it was finances, but there were plenty of other things that they resented about each other too. Their words sounded farther away when I was up in my room but I could never really escape the muted, vicious tones that were spat at each other beneath me. 

              My mother is a woman who is deeply unsatisfied with her life. As a younger child I thought it was my fault in some way. As I grew up to be an over achiever it slowly dawned on me that she didn’t need to see my accomplishments, she needed to make some of her own. That never really happened but she never ceased to pick apart my decisions thread by thread. If she could just tell me and my father what we were doing wrong, there was never a need for any self-reflection. 

              I did feel bad. I knew she was lonely. My father had built walls of ice around himself for years and was not keen on letting anyone in – especially her. It pained me to see both of them isolated but at a certain point I learned to let it go. I wasn’t my parents, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes. Financial stability and self-sufficiency were lasered into my brain as priorities. 

              “I want to talk to her, before…” I gestured vaguely towards the door and my father nodded. 

              “I thought the bride wasn’t supposed to be seen before she walks down the aisle though,” he said as I stood up. 

              “We both know I’m not one for traditions,” I said as I made my way to the door. 

              “I know. I love you.”

              “Love you too Dad, I’ll see you in a few.” 

              I walked down the hall of the event center, not sure where my mother was, but knowing I owed her a conversation before I officially changed my name. 

              Leon was a kind man. He was smart and decently funny. He was financially stable like myself and we got along. I suppose what frightened me was that we would find we only got along on a surface level, but since he had never asked too many deep questions neither had I. We worked. Our daily lives were comfortable with each other and when he had pulled a ring out of his pocket after a night out at a nice restaurant I felt the word yes come out of my mouth before I could think about it. It was part of the routine. If anyone was going to be for me it might as well be him. 

              We didn’t fight. We didn’t argue with raised voices – we just didn’t have anything that we disagreed about so strongly. Everything felt very calm all the time. It crossed my mind that I was missing genuine emotion and connection for the sake of not having the same fights my parents had had. I think that’s why my mother had taken to Leon so well. She longed to be around a man who would listen to her without disagreeing immediately. He was someone that was easy to talk to, that would let you in if you asked and that was ready to be a shoulder to cry on. 

              I had had a lot of conflicting feelings on the morning of that day. I think that’s normal. Or maybe it’s not. I just know that what I walked into when I was looking for my mother in the small room beside the ceremony hall was not normal at all. 

              The door was slightly ajar, so I pushed it the rest of the way open. On the couch sat my mother and Leon. His hands were grasping her waist, her hands were entangled in his hair. Their lips moved together, slowly and with what I can only describe as passion. 

              He opened his eyes and pushed her away, staring at me. She saw me and froze, her hand coming to rest on his thigh and then quickly she placed it in her own lap. I know that movies say sometimes there are moments when life seems to freeze before your eyes, or that everything is in slow motion. They’re right. I stared back. My face remained expressionless. I could feel a rush of emotion fall over myself, and I immediately pushed it away. 

              “You should know it’s not tradition for you to see me in this dress before the ceremony,” I deadpanned. Neither of them responded. Neither of them moved. 

              I had so many questions, but at the same time, they all seemed to answer themselves. So I stood there for another few minutes and they sat there before me. Two of the people that I am supposed to be able to trust the most in this world. Leon did not make eye contact. My mother’s lips began to move as if she was desperately trying to form them into the right words, but there weren’t any right words for this situation. 

              I began to feel my voice in my throat and then I quelled it. I didn’t need to say anything. So I left. I turned around and closed the door behind me. I walked back into the room where my dad was. 

              “That was a quick conversation,” he said surprised. 

              “Turns out I didn’t have anything to say. I’m leaving.”

              “Leaving?” he began to stand up.

              “Yeah. This is a mistake. I… think I’m too much like you, and I’ve seen how marriage has been for you.” I could see my words sting him as I said them but they had needed to be said for a long time. 

              I sighed, trying not to let my breath shake. “Look dad, this just isn’t for me. I’m nobody’s wife. I’m not going to ever be anyone’s wife.”

              “What do you mean, you’re in a dress, the wedding is today,” his voice was growing louder. 

              “I know I am and I know it is.”

              “So you’re just walking away? Why?”

              “It doesn’t matter.”

              “It matters to me.” I wasn’t about to tell him what I had seen. I wanted him to go ask my mother about it and I wanted her to have to tell him whatever it was that had been happening. Her time to realize her shortcomings was long overdue. 

              “I appreciate that. Dad, I think one of my biggest fears used to be that I was going to be alone – that I was never going to be able to find someone and that I would regret that. But now, I think one of my greatest comforts is that I can choose to be alone, and that’s what I’m choosing today.” 

              He stood there silently. The man who had raised me and shown me what I never wanted to be was right before me. It wasn’t his fault – I knew that. He was still so confused. “Go talk to mom.”

              “Where are you going?”

              “Away from here. Tell everyone they can go. Tell everyone they can go home and Leon can tell them why.” My eyes stung as I said it. 

              “I don’t understand,” he said, I could see the glossy surfaces of his eyes as tears begged to spill out from them. 

              “I know. I don’t either Dad.”

              I left. I left right after I said it. I walked to the parking lot of the venue and got in my car. I knew I had a change of clothes in it. I placed my hands on the steering wheel and my gaze was drawn towards my ring finger. That rock would be worth something. I could sell it. I would sell it. And whatever I made on it combined with the epiphany I just had was going to make me the richest woman in the world.