dirty bride

“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