The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

Chapter Five – Fantasy Wedding

Mirabel cinched me tight.
“There!” The mirror exposed a stranger.
I was a new person.
“Too much dress” said Mirabel,
“But with skyscraper shoes…”
From the closet she threw out bundles.

“I’d rather wear flats,”
I told her.
She reproved: “Verne is very tall.”
Who cares how tall HE is?
“Bridesmaid shouldn’t tower over bride!”
I suggested;
Reining in the
Clashing egos.

In weird familial telepathy
Mirabel declaimed,
“Princess Richenda
To the Dark Tower came.
Just like Tarot cards.”
I admired my nude, mirrored
Ribboned back.
“But how about your dress?”
“You’ve seen it.”
Like breath went out of her –
She tossed it out – they were identical.

How could that be?
Wasn’t that too strange?
I was gobsmacked –
Never heard of bride and bridesmaid
Wearing the same dress –
Think of the confusing pictures –
People getting entirely
Wrong ideas.

“Isn’t that bad luck?” I questioned;
“The groom will see the gown
Before they’re hitched” – Ending
Lamely, “If you believe
That sort of thing.”
I petered out because
No one DOES believe that sort of thing.
“My dress is size “zero” –“
Sniffed Mirabel –

Competitive,
Combative Mirabel, and I was silenced.
She knocked my phone right out of my hand –
Sussing out my efforts to bring in troops –
Mom would NEVER approve of this!
“No pictures till the wedding.”

Her pressured speech rushed on –
And on – “And now –
we dress for dinner.”
More fantasy clothes.
I looked embarrassed at my
Wrinkled skirt
Discarded
Carapace along the floor – shriveling
Like my pride.

Mirabel threw open mirrored
Doors to reveal another bedroom –
This one stocked with girlish stuff.
“This room is yours -”
She told me –
“He’s staying at The Stanhope.”

I blushed – I don’t know why –
He’d called this residence “his” –
But these closets were packed
With Mirabel clothes so
Where did I fit in?
My sister unbound my dress –

I’m not used to
Clothes that need assistants.
There’s no getting out of these gowns
Without help.
“These are yours -”

Blue slits whose ruffles
Matched my eyes –
A dress with scales –
Peekaboo and baby-doll
Price tags proclaiming
The less the dress the more the cost.

No bras here either –
And everything my size.
What was going on?
Angrily I chose heels to tower over
Mirabel – we’ll see who’s boss –
But she didn’t seem to mind.

Her makeup kit delivered
smoky eye, nude mouth and
Emerald glitter.
“Verne hates the kiss of
Lipstick.” Who cares?
These people kiss the air – I couldn’t
Get the hang of this.

She wore cherry red chinoiserie –
Now I’m impostor too.
“He’s waiting at the Stanhope Bar.”
We were silent in the elevator.
I clutched the fur I’d borrowed
Feeling naked –

Summoning up my nerve but
Maribel seemed depressed.
Deflated. Encumbered?
With me? With Verne?
With family obligation?
Traditions I could
Only guess at? I tried to play my role.
“So… how did he propose?”

My query’s gaucheness seemed
Amplified by elevator doors
Whose golden mirror
Bent our beauty so
Unflatteringly we seemed
Haunted.

“It’s not about when he proposed,” she
Told me crisply, “but
“When I accepted. He
Proposed the first night we met –
Five years ago –
Said we’d marry –
If he could get approval
From his trustees.”
Much to puzzle out in here!
So trustees must propose to Mirabel?

O Bad New World that has
Such creatures in it.
“Five years ago? Was this a secret?”
Why didn’t anyone – snoopy Richenda in fact –
Find this out?
“He hates the press – “ says Mirabel,

Whose explanations
Don’t explain. “He
Wants me to himself. And I was so unready –
seeing other people…LOTS of other people.”
Poor Verne!
We nodded at the doorman,
Safe beside the limo

I whispered, “How’d he win
You over?” But Mirabel
Did not seem to want to discuss
This sacred aspect of their story. She dismissed me.
“He was so adoring.”

She bundled me inside the car then
Backed away confronted by a ghost.
“I forgot something. Tell Verne I’ll be along.”

The car swept away, leaving Mirabel
Huddled by the curb – overwhelmed by
Her mink coat.