When We Escape- A Short Story
M M-Stewart
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When We Escape
a short story
M M- Stewart
Copyright 2011 M M-Stewart
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When We Escape
My mother’s beautiful silk wedding gown was like milk pouring into a glass as it draped across my skin. It tickled the nape of my neck as I let the layered material cascade down my back. The imagery was abruptly disrupted as the dress stopped just past my shoulders. I was in my bedroom standing naked from the breast down, except for my pearl white bra, slip, panties and white flip flops. The dress was stuck over my head, barely fitting over my large breasts. Like the millionth thing to happen the morning of my wedding, I lost the energy to erupt into tears. Instead, I sighed heavily and called for help, the beautiful silk material muffling my distress.
After a few moments of silence and no footfalls coming to my aid, I sniffled, feeling a string of tears stinging the corner of my eyes, threatening to ruin my make-up. I took in a deep breath; my diaphragm shrinking the inch or two I needed to get the dress to fall down my waist. I pulled down the edges and finally everything fell into place. I stared at the growing swell in my midsection, the while soft material doing little to disguise the fact that I was five months pregnant. I tried to stay positive. At least the dress was long enough to cover up my swelling ankles. It had a high waist, and if one were to stare at me from the back, one couldn’t tell if I were pregnant or svelte sex kitten until I turned to the side. The collar dipped low enough to show off my new found cleavage, my breasts having nearly doubled in size over the last five months.
I twirled around in front of the mirror a moment later, admiring the dress once again, trying to make myself happy when deep down I was frightened and nearly bursting with nervous energy. I was nineteen, five months pregnant and about to get married to my high school sweetheart. I had gained twenty pounds since Scott had proposed to me; I was resembling a fat, white, silky cow, with big brown eyes and chipmunks cheeks the longer I started to stare back at my reflection. What the hell, Lord? My thoughts were a conjecture of fading dreams and nearing horizons I was unsure and unready to cross just yet.
There was a knock on my bedroom door, but I didn’t dare ask if it were Jesus Himself. “Come in, Mom,r5t” I said, and the words were barely out of my mouth before my mother was already in the room and shutting the door behind her. The look on her face when she turned to me made my stomach drop. “What’s the matter?”
She was a tangle of worry and anticipation. “The reverend isn’t here yet. Scott’s parents just called and said they won’t be able to make it. Your father is running late with the cake.” She fell back onto the bed. I shook my head, swallowing the ball of frustration developing behind my throat. “Does Scott know?”
“He’s already running around like a chicken with no head fixing everything else. I didn’t think I ought to tell him about his parents, though.”
I nearly ripped my dress as I turned to face her. “And you’re telling me? What am I supposed to do?”
She shook her head, her black and speckled gray hair swinging past her shoulders. “You’ve got to learn to handle things on your own pretty soon, missy.” She might as well have been wagging her finger in my face, mirroring the imagery of a dried up old Catholic nun tutoring a rambunctious toddler. “When Scott leaves for boot camp next month, it’ll be just you and the baby”-
“I know that, Mom”-
“And you won’t be able to call and ask for help all the time”-
“Yes, I know”-
“I just wish you’d finished college before having this baby. MiKayla”-
I turned and stared at her. I knew that I couldn’t say anything, the squeak in my voice nearly giving away to an onslaught of pent up anger and a string of verbal concoctions I was sure my mother had never heard before. But I stopped myself. I shot my mother a look that silenced her for good, her eyes falling to the floor as she swallowed her words. She had the gall to unleash one more quip before the end of her tirade: “You just remember who let you back in this house when you couldn’t make it out there on your own.”
I groaned, giving up on trying suppressing my rage.
“You just remember that it was me who let you back into this house.”
“I know, Mom,” I replied through clenched teeth, nearly cracking a molar in the process.
“And don’t you roll your eyes at me, either. You just better be grateful that Scott is a decent boy who agreed to marry you after all of this, or else you’d really be in a world of hurt.”
Another knock on the door, but I didn’t get the chance to respond. My aunt strolled in with an air of royalty and poise that filled the room once she shut the door behind her. She looked neither stressed nor anticipatory. She was in control as usual. When her bright eyes paused at me filled with compassion and sympathy, I unclenched my jaw and took a deep breath. “Sit down, MiKayla,” and I did, right beside my mother on my twin size bed. I felt like crying. My old room already felt tiny when I came home from college three months before in a fit of disbelief and fear. Now that the three of us were huddled inside, the pink and white stripes and band pictures seemed childish, the memories of my former life felt light-years behind me on the walls. Today was my wedding day and I felt like a little kid all over again, frightened and shaking in my flip flops. I felt a movement in my lower abdomen; the baby trying to comfort me, I guessed. Or else aiding in my apprehension.
My aunt said, “You look beautiful,” and a crinkle of a smile spread across my lips and my heart warmed over.
“The reverend’s not here,” my mother quipped, and my aunt looked down her nose at her, hushing my mother almost instantly. Hardly anything ever ruffled my aunt’s feathers, least of all the circuitry of a small wedding that was taking place in the living room downstairs. “Darryl is taking care of it now. All we need to worry about is if MiKayla is okay.” She waned, her face spreading with warmth as she grinned at me. The baby moved again, the feeling strange, yet comforting. “Does the dress fit properly? Do we have time to paint your toes?”
I broke, a trickle of laughter escaping me as I imagined my unperturbed aunt on her knees in her silk, navy blue dress, polishing my toes. My beautiful youngest cousin, Elizabeth, popped in and was given the job instead. She popped her pink gum and looked up at me from the floor with scorn on her pretty face, but I ignored her. Karen, my eldest sister barged in a few moments later, eager to rub my budding bell, curl my dark hair, and fix my make up with her travel kit. The room began to shrink again, so my mother left and my aunt watched from the entrance as my best friend Denise came in and tried her hardest to make me laugh. Rachele, my friend from college made an appearance. She helped finish packing my suitcase for the honeymoon. It was strange to be the center of all the commotion. I talked very little, just listened to all the things that were thrown across the room. Denise asked me, “So is Scott your Prince Charming?”
I shrugged, feeling my cheeks beginning to pinch with colour. “He’s very nice to me. He’s very sweet.”
Rachele leaned over out of my aunt’s earshot and asked, “Does he rock in the bedroom?” There was a bevy of laughter, and then Karen cackled, “He must be if she got knocked up.” Another layer of laughter and I hid my growing smile behind my hand.
“Are you going to go back to school once you guys get your own place and have the baby?” Denise asked. I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t had time to think about it. But I nodded my head, convincing them that I had every little detail in check. I made them believe that I wasn’t scared about having a child at nineteen, and that dropping out of the college of my dreams hadn’t broken my heart. I made them laugh when they asked did I m
ind living in my mother’s house again while I waited for three months until Scott could come back from boot camp and move us across the country to a military town. They smiled like they understood, and I nodded and wished that I was as rich with confidence and shaking with unfathomable faith and trust like they thought I was.
A half an hour crawled by, and my uncle Darryl pushed through the mess of purple and frilly dresses to tell me that a reverend had been found. My father, however, was stuck in traffic with the wedding cake and wouldn’t be able to make it in time. I couldn’t say that I was completely overjoyed, but I smiled convincingly.
“We have to do this now,” my aunt said quietly from the bedroom door. “The reverend has another wedding across town in an hour.”
I walked out of my bedroom and into my mother’s hallway with my knees wobbling and shaking underneath my pretty white wedding dress. My poor stomach was bubbling over with excitement and nerves; the baby was doing back flips and somersaults against my ribs, but I held my head up. The girls lined up according to their height along the staircase from tallest to shortest. From downstairs in the living room, I heard the stereo begin to play the Wedding March.
I puked in my mother’s hallway, but that didn’t stop the bridesmaids from descending down the stairs one by one.
My mother was pissed; her forehead a mess of webbed discontent. My aunt handed me a handkerchief and I wiped at my mouth. It probably hadn’t been a great idea to have not eaten all day, so my vomit hadn’t tasted like much. My mother handed me two mints and grabbed one hand while my aunt grabbed the other to guide me down the stairs.
I realized as I descended the steps that I was doing an unusual amount of praying on this particular day. I prayed about things like, Oh, Lord, please don’t let me fall down these stairs, and Oh, Lord, please don’t let me say anything stupid when I get to the altar. My heart was thumping in my chest like a canary trying to escape its ribbed cage, and the music was beautiful I was sure, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing. We took each step very carefully. My mind wandered for a second and I imagined myself stopping in the middle of the hallway and my mother and aunt dragging me to Scott’s side. Halfway down the aisle was not the best place to have second thoughts, I scolded myself.
Did I love Scott enough to marry him at nineteen? I asked the Lord.
No answer.
Another painstaking step before we entered the living room. Oh, God, if you could just give me a sign that everything is going to be okay-
The music grew louder. Fading sunlight poured in through the large windows of the living room, the light reaching my freshly polished toes first as we entered the living room. I spotted family members that I hadn’t seen in ages, smiling and wiping tears from their eyes as they watched me. Scott’s family had shown up here and there, but his parents were nowhere to be seen. I gulped when I saw Scott standing near the reverend in front of the large flat screen television. He looked unperturbed at his parent’s absence. He wore a grin that was spread from cheek to cheek, his skin tan, the black tuxedo suiting his colour well. He smiled at me, his bright eyes warm and happy. I took a deep breath and smiled back at him.
He smelled of aftershave and roses, a boutonniere pinned neatly to the lapel of his jacket. My aunt and mother released my hands and suddenly I was there at the end of the aisle side to side with this boy. I reached up to hug him and he chuckled into my ear. He hugged me back and kissed my forehead. I sighed. Scott was all that I knew. I could be happy with him, my thoughts reassured me. Everything would be fine because we were two young, dumb kids who had only ever been with each other. We would explore the world, and we would be in the world, and we would be happy. It would be difficult, and sometimes we would go to war with one another, but in the end our love was strong. My love for him was real. Despite my fear and uncertainties, I was most certain that I loved this boy.
He whispered into my ear as we turned to face the reverend, “I love you, girl.” He placed his hand on my belly and I smiled. I took another deep breath to calm my nerves. The reverend began.
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About the author
M M-Stewart lives in St Marys, Georgia. She is happily married to her main squeeze, David, but loves showing her cat, lamely named Kitty some love, too. She enjoys reviewing and watching movies for pleasure. She has a box full of stories she’s been writing and saving since she was a kid and intends on rewriting them so that they may make her rich and famous one day. She enjoys rock n’ roll music, good chocolate, Italian food, foot massages, and lazy rainy days. Please leave a review for this short so she knows she’s entertaining people and not leaving a dry spot in their mouth… Currently, she is working on a love story, a story set in space, and a story about a pizza delivery boy. Stay tuned…
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