Category: Sisterhood

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    “Where would she go?

    You must have some

    Guy in mind?”

    Verne looked so childish, shoulders collapsed,  

    Unresponsive iPhone fallen to the floor.

    I was not going to mother him.

    I felt sorry for him but I also

    Fel everything was his own damn fault

    How could such a lucky man

    Wealthy and free

    So mismanage his own life?

    Suddenly my dream was

    Magically achieved; I felt

    Old; sophisticated;

    Like HE was fourteen and

    I was thirty-seven.

    I pushed coffee.

    It’s always been my 

    Panacea.

    He sipped in new docility.

    “Black. The way I like it.”

    I corrected brusquely,

    “There is no cream or sugar.”

    “It’s mean strong. I need it

    To fight back.”

    I wish he’d stop raising these

    Disturbing concepts –

    Was that what he liked about me?

    How was that possible when

    He hated it about Mirabel?

    Maybe he was trying to apologize. 

    I muted.

    He studied me ironically.

    “Will you tell The Folks?”

    Mirabel’s word for them.

    Felt a chill. 

    How explain this to the world?

    Did I finally have

    Something to write about for my break essay –

    I could rush home

    To my life as a

     Powerless teenage nobody. 

    “We don’t know what

    Happened.” At the very least we should

    Figure out what the hell

    Was going on.  It’s true that Verne

    Seemed a loose cannon now but

    I could always lock my door.

    Grab that bull by his

    You Know Where.

    “No more kissing. OK?”

    He flushed a dirty red.

    “No. Hell no.

    I’m sorry.”

    “Maybe she’s in trouble.” 

    He shrugged this off.

    “Impossible. She’s just a tease.”

    This did not feel right.

    If she could get out of her depth with Verne she could

    Certainly do it with other men.

    Plenty going on am

    I am curious.

    I was slowly realizing that

    Because Verne was Verne he MIGHT

    Always be the last to know.

    “You really think she’s left you?”

    He writhed. “We played the hurt game

    To the top of our bent This could

    Be her winning shot.”

    What was the score?

    Why inject me?

    Did she owe me or –

    Did I owe her? I said,

    “If she left you

    She left me, too.”

    Why couldn’t I believe

    That Mirabel would ghost me?

    Wasn’t that what she’d always done?

    But it was different now –

    We’d been “sisters” together –

    For one split second.

    Fresh chills fevered me – 

    Was she handing off her bridegroom? 

    The matching dresses were just too weird.

    On the other hand, fashion is transgressive;

    Always trying to break the rules.

    No. no. Can’t go there.

    “Until Mirabel calls it off

    It’s on. This could be nothing. 

    She might come back.

    She’ll call.  Sleep on it. Have some 

    Lemon cake.” He shuddered. Grumpy.

    “I asked for Hazelnut.” 

    I easily imagined a Mirabel

    Blocking his desires.

    He settled for coconut

    Companionably we ate together.

    He’d fed me, now I fed him.

    That’s called a relationship.

    Then he fixed me with

    A gnarly eye.

    “Did she warn you?

    What did she tell you?

    Did she say anything

    About HIM?”

    I always hated third degree.

    I blush as if I’m guilty.

    “She told me nothing,”

    I said coldly. “I

    “Was invited to a wedding.”

    “She’ll never call,” he moaned.

    “She’ll keep the tension up

    Until the victim dies. That’s her way.”

    “Then you should call it off.”

    I scraped the rest of my cake

    Into the trash – I only

    Like the frosting – and

    Hardened myself against their

    Nuptial craziness.

    Verne rose so decisively

    His plate fell to the rug.

    “I’m going to find her,”

     “Game on. She chose me. She doesn’t get 

    Another choice.”

    What was the matter with this man?

    Physically attractive – 

    Wealthy – powerful –

    So insecure?

    The only game with players is REFUSE TO PLAY.

    Mirabel had always coveted those

    She could manipulate. But

    Did I know that of my own

    Knowledge – how could I – or

    Did my parents prompt me?

    That’s the thing about growing up –

     It slowly dawns on you that

    All you’re told is nonsense.

    A dose of sense is

    Obviously required.

    “I think you’re looking at this wrong,

     Mirabel’s frightened

    Of our dad. He’s the “other man.”

    Verne gaped at me,

    His focus readjusting as if

    He saw me for the first time.

    “Explain.”

    “Don’t you know the story?

    She pretended to go to college but really cashed all

    Daddy’s checks and lived the high life.

    She got in trouble with the student loan people,

    Forging documents.  We haven’t heard from her for

    Six years. Dad’s still angry.

    I thought something was up when 

    She wanted to come home.”

    “I didn’t know.  Quite little scamp.”

    He seemed cheered.

    “Think we should wed in church?

    I don’t know one marriage that’s survived ten years.”

    This man could certainly surprise me.

    “Mom and Dad have been married FOREVER,”

    Worse than that –

    Unimaginable without each other;

    A true team – like Laurel & Hardy or

    Abbott & Costello.

    I could imagine no other human

    Puting up with either of them.

    How to convey this?

    “Maybe you shouldn’t get married

    When you are so uncertain,” I suggested.

    Would I get kissed or

    Slapped for interfering?

    Adults don’t like to second-guess but

    Mirabel forced my hand.

    “All our bridges burned,”

    He sighed.

    “The only way is forward.”

    Depressing thought.

    Keeping up this guy’s mood is work.

    “Let’s figure out where she

    Could have possibly gone. Like,

    How would she travel?”

    Verne sat straight up.

    “Car service,” he announced.

    “I pay the bills. We can track her.”

    He worked his phone.

    “I’m so glad 

    “You’re staying. I need you.

    You’re Alt-Mirabel.”