The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

Chapter 8 –

Alt-Mirabel

Too many emotions
To remember —
Depression, disgust, anger,
Amazement.
But am I safe to say
I’m not “alt-Mirabel”
And I never will be?

When this journey began
I sort of envied Mirabel – I think
We all enjoy imagining
A Perfect Life –
I’ve even caught parents & teachers doing it.
How delicious doing only
Everything you want!

Relief to feel above it all!
But now I saw her slavery.
When had Mirabel learned to pretend?
It must have happened early – why
She and never me?

Thesis, antithesis
Synthesis – if I’m not Mirabel, then
I’m her rival.
Of course he tried to kiss me.
“I’m changing,” I said abruptly.
I saw by his face he thought
My statement transcendental – but –
“Getting out of this idiotic dress.”

“He’s downstairs,” said Verne. “You don’t have time.
He’ll take us where she went.”
“Then go without me,”
Of course he waited-
I knew he would –
This rigamarole
Could be staged for me alone.

When I joined them downstairs
I wore my oldest jeans and Three Mad Cats t-shirt.
Turned out she’d gone to
Brooklyn, – a long, long way away.
The driver was unhelpful – Mirabel’d said nothing and
He was a glum fellow by himself.
We halted in the warehouse district.
Verne coaxed him to wait while we stepped out of the car.
Pessimism back.

“Nothing here. I was hoping she’d get sloppy.”
I had my own ideas.
Behind one of these doors could be a place
Where Mirabel changed
In that transcendental way
From one facade to many?
Unlabeled doors were locked –
Loading docks bereft.

No numbers, no bells, no camera and
No speaker phones.
I began gaining a special sense of her –
Inhaling like faint perfume –
Lending me a heady sense of
Power I had never known.

I wasn’t alt-Mirabel
But I did know her
In a way denied to others –
Because I’d seen her
Just beginning – before
She polished up her act
And took it on the road.
I knew what shaped her –
Knew what it took to make her cry.

The question was never –
When did Mirabel get wily? Because
She’d always been this way – but
Now I wondered
Whether her plans had
Ever included us.
“Maybe she met another car,”
Verne offered, hopefully
“Parked in there.”
I smelled his nemesis again –
He preferred to live in a world
Of dastardly rivals.

“One chance left,” said Verne. “Humiliating, but
What’s to lose?”
I looked him up and down
Thinking how many on this planet –
Would change places right this moment
With this guy.
My mother’s drill-sergeant snapped
Inside my head, demanding we “buck up.”

Verne gave the driver another address
The Upper East Side this time, and
We settled in for another ride.
“So…what’s this place?”
“Mirabel had a job – personal assistant to…
This man and they
Were friends. Too close for me.
They shared secrets, I just know it.
He might know something.”
“Was he invited to the wedding?”
I inquired all ingenuous.

“No. His wife thought they
Were too close too. Let’s say he gave Mirabel
Too many gifts.”
Aha. Torn between two rich men,
Only one of them
Unmarried.
Picture becoming clearer.
Verne drummed his fingers,
Grim but cheered.
“She might be there. If we take him by surprise.”
His eyes raked me over.

“You were smart to change.
I apologize for rushing you.
Button up your coat. I want you
Front and center.”
I understood he
Planned to use the
Adolescence he’d
Once forgotten –
Most would blame my “sexy dressing” –
But now he wanted me young and
Vulnerable.

“I’m just the jilted groom. He won’t care
About me – I’m the person she complained about –
But you’re the abandoned sister summoned up to town.”
Both would look to me for clues to what
Mirabel had been.

As it happened
Surprise was impossible.
At another golden barracks
Doorman demanded purpose for our visit.
Verne said, “Emergency.”
He flashed a picture
From his phone. “Seen this girl tonight?”

Doorman shook his head, listening to the phone.
“Penthouse Suite on the top floor.
Mr. Krutupian will see you now.”