“dirty bride”
Her friends were all married
Safe
Home and family and car and kids on the way
She tried to forget
but her mother reminded her every Sunday
“you need to find a nice man, settle down. Janie just got married!”
“I know mom”
She stopped attending the weddings
Always a brides’ maid, never a bride
It got to her after some time
She never had the courage to tell anyone
Especially
her mother
That they never wanted to get that close
When she felt the urges rise
When the walls dropped just enough
And she’d tell them about the diagnosis
Then they would never call again
It had been two years since
She remembers it like the bran muffin she had this morning
He worked at the coffee shop below her apartment
There was gentleness in his eyes
That drew
her in
Soon the latte was not enough
She upgraded to a scone to accompany her morning ritual
Then some light conversation
Then after some time, the exchange of names
Familiar with one another
They talked
briefly at first
Sharing pleasantries
After a month, she started to get up twenty minutes earlier
every day
As soon as the little bell rang over the door
Their eyes
would meet
He would wipe his hands off with a white towel
And they
would sit at a table nearest to the counter
Finally phone numbers were exchanged
Finally a date at the quiet café on the corner
Finally a kiss
Soft at first, then wet with parted lips
Finally hands on her face
Stroking her hair
Covering her body
Finally panting heavily through their noses
Finally falling through the door of her apartment
Finally their skin touched
Finally she closed her eyes as her head fell backwards and
they clutched just a bit tighter
One last
time
The next day was cloudy outside
The light was cold but bright as it pushed its way into her
window
She rolled over in bed and a pre-printed card was resting on
her nightstand
It was small, like a place card
From a
wedding
The name on the front read simply,
“TO YOU”
She opened it and continued reading inside
“Dear whore - I enjoyed fucking you. Thank you for trusting me and letting me in
without a condom. I have AIDS. You should get tested so you know if you are
dying, like me.”
She looked around the room in a panic
For some reason she wondered if he was still in her
apartment - ??
But why would he stay?
He’d already committed his crime
And gone
The day her lab results came back she sat in her shower for
an hour
And cried
And cried
And cried
She looked for him – asked about him
Of course
His last day at the coffee shop was the day of their date
She thought about calling the police
But then it would all just have to come out
And how could she face that?
And what could they do for her?
Capture a ghost?
Her mother called every Sunday to find out
why
Why didn’t she have that starry look in her eyes?
And what was she doing about finding a man
The ONE?
The thought amused her sometimes
FIND a man
Like pebbles to skip on the water?
Like that bargain deal on the sweater she’d had her eye on?
How does one FIND a man?
Sometimes she’d shove aside the canned corn in her cupboard
Just in
case one was hiding back there for her to FIND
And if she did
Then what?
After the second date
It seemed
strange still to avoid a kiss
And the few who stayed past that, never did quite understand
how to take the news
That word
It was a stain of blood on the wedding dress
It was an eye torn out
And hanging
there
It was a smile
And suddenly
all of the teeth were missing or broken
She had been without the touch
For so
long
This dirty bride
Once or twice she almost said
Fuck it
But she couldn’t do to them what he had done to her
So she kept her mouth
And her
legs
Closed tight
And her heart
And her eyes
And her hands
Clenched and closed so tight
Until the nails dug into the palm sometimes
And a
little blood flowed
Blood like poison
Blood that could destroy nations
Blood with an angry voice and impure hate
And beating into and out of a heart
That was
growing cold, and hard and weary
The day that the detective came to her door
Would forever
be remembered by all who knew her
By all who lived closed to her
The man who attempted to murder her
Had confessed
He’d made some mistakes as the years had gone by
And he got too close and too careful with one
And when he ran away
She found
him
It took some doing, mind you
But she found him
On the recording he was still strapped down to a bed in an
abandoned state hospital
There were some IV’s crudely hooked up to his arms
He was naked
From head
to toe
From what they could make out
It appeared
that his murder weapon had been stripped bare of its outer skin
She’d fed pieces of it to him
Every day
The first time she blended it until it was liquid
Stubborn fella refused to open his mouth
So into his nose it went
He was more cooperative after that
At around day five or six
He started
to talk
It wasn’t worth this anymore
He gave up names, locations, specifics
So they went to work contacting his victims
Providing information
Hopefully some relief, some closure
So the day they came to her apartment
They knocked
on the door but it swung open a little
They called to her
No answer
She refused to let him murder her
She refused to be his
Dirty bride
She was in the same bathtub that she’d cried in for an hour
The day
she found out what he had done
Already turning blue
Already going cold
The gown still had the tag on it from the bridal store down
the road
The tiara had slipped a little bit when she slumped over
To breathe
her last
“Beautiful bride”
One of
them said
And sadly – that was very true
