The Almost Bride

There’s was a love envied by the gods.

Romeo would blush were he alive, were he real, at the romance that dripped from Logan’s lips into the eager ear of Amanda’s.

The wedding was a much anticipated affair, drawing crowds from far and wide to relish in the splendour of a union so holy and so right.

To be around such a love, these travellers hoped there was something in the air. Something contagious... A dream they could catch perhaps, if they were in the presence of it.

Amanda was elegant, she had a grace and beauty so refined. She was quiet and most often withdrawn; arrogant and cold. But at the same time you could feel in her presence a passion. A fire, if you will; a burning yearning. A youthful glow in her green eyes suggested she was a little girl trapped in this woman’s body, in this woman’s life.

She fell in love with Logan rather quickly considering her disdain for anything expected of her. She knew that soon she would be required to get married, whether willing or not, and so, being as stubborn as she was, she refused to meet any suitors. She decided to wait until the real thing happened. The love thing.

And now, standing in a room in front of a grand mirror on her wedding day; she couldn’t imagine a greater love. She felt intoxicated and wild inside.

A feeling she reserved only for her lover. Her soul mate.

Everyone else took the back seat in her parade, a smaller, if not minute role in the play, nay; the musical of her life.

She had the airs and lyricism of a woman in love, love; a word she was frequently heard to say, among many others that suggested her complete infatuation with her future husband.

If Logan had any feelings to speak of, he hid them with a quiet persistence, to Amanda and to the rest of the world.

He was irresponsible and fickle and found his lost youth in Amanda’s child-like eyes.

But he was a wanderer by heart, a fact he hid well and truly deep down. He loved Amanda, desired her and he knew, like Amanda knew, his time was coming. He would be expected to get married, have children and live a humble life in the country.

Logan was not ready nor did he ever think he would be for such a life. He craved adventure, moments in time that belonged to him alone, feeding his spirit with the wonders of the world and all that it had to offer, and he knew; it had to offer all of the things he wanted.

Nevertheless; the wedding date was set. Preparations made and invitations sent out. And they seemed happy.

Amanda’s breathing was shallow and constant.

The phone rang harshly.

And as her lips received their colour, she thought about the Buddhist belief that when you find your soul mate you’re calm, not nervous, not agitated. And that is how she felt.

Ramona, Amanda's maid, who's voice had been a constant, hushed murmur in the room for five minutes, put the phone down gently.

After the final touches to her cheeks were made and she had slipped into her shoes, she made her way to the door and motioned for one of the helpers to open it for her; she was ready.

Silence.

Ramona got up and slowly started toward the door.

And in a whisper said “He’s not here Amanda.”

Amanda touched her hair that was so beautifully done, a mass of dark curls and the shine of white beads.
“What is taking so long? Is he almost here?” She asked with a tone so sweet with hope.

The ladies who were helping her with the task of getting ready all looked down to the magenta coloured carpet, avoiding the questioning gaze of Amanda, standing so tall in her white gown.

“Madam...”

“Wait.” Amanda held up a perfectly manicured hand and took a deep breath.

She looked like she might continue; she opened her mouth as if words would pour out, and then closed it just as quickly.

He wasn’t coming.

Ramona later recalled that Amanda had been, in that moment, the most naked person she’d ever seen with a dress on.

Nothing more needed to be said and to spare any more shame; embarrassment, all the girls left the room, including Ramona.

Amanda wondered inwardly; had her sentence always been written? Was this to be her fate?
She sat on the rough beige stool made of straw and metal, gazed for the thousandth time at her reflection in the mirror but saw someone decidedly different. She had become, in the space of a few minutes, who she knew, then, she was destined to become.

The person without.

The woman she feared. The woman she loathed. She, alone; unwanted.

Had she been so naive and without foresight all this time; or had she known this all along in the silence of her soul.

And so it came to be; the gods who envied a love like theirs did not exist and the enthusiastic crowds ran away back home and shut their doors.