Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
DALILA
W hen I get out of the shower, Lucia is sitting on the bed, surrounded by white dresses and a bouquet. “Short notice, so we have to just roll with what we have.” She says to me like this is all somehow normal, that a secret wedding isn’t a big deal. I stand there wrapped in a fluffy grey towel that smells like Nevio, and glance around, looking for him. “I sent him to the pool house. We don’t want any bad luck, thanks.”
“He won me in a card game. I think his luck is good.” I say and walk over to the frills, bows and taffeta. None of them look like anything I’d choose for myself or wear. I’m a little disappointed that my wedding gown is going to be whatever fits on the day. “Thank you for doing this.” I say, even though there’s a heavy feeling in my chest.
“I did it for Nevio,” she says, “don’t hurt him, Dalila.” Her eyes meet mine, and it’s a plea, not a threat. I wasn’t planning to hurt him. He’s been soft and kind in all this. I wish my brothers had spoken to me though — warned me there was trouble. But if Mas asked him to care for me, there is a good reason for that. I trust my brother. Even when I hate him, I trust him.
I guess, to be honest, if he had warned me this was going to happen, I probably would have snuck out and avoided it somehow.
“I won’t.” I reply as she hands me a dress.
“Let’s see you in these.” I take a long look at the odd creation in my hand. “One of them will work.”
“Not this one.” I pull a face and hand it back. “There are a lot of bows on there.”
Lucia laughs at me and tosses the dress over her shoulder. Digging through the dresses, she holds up a few that I am not interested in trying on at all.
“This is not awful.” She says, holding up a short white dress that will hug every lump and bump of my body, but at least there are no bows or puffs. It’s pretty — even though it’s not a dress I imagined getting married in. I take it from her and go into the dressing room to change.
I don’t like being naked in front of anyone, never mind someone I barely know. Lucia is younger than me, and not someone I was allowed to hang around. She is a ‘wild child’, according to my father. I think she is normal. What he considers wild is just growing up. And I have been held prisoner to his standards all my life.
The difference is, she has a mom. I think I would have had a different life if my mother had lived. Wiggling myself into the dress, I struggle against the feeling of it suffocating me. When I spin to face the full-length mirror, I don’t know what to think.
I don’t look like me — but me would never marry Nevio, in a dress his sister chose. I have to forget myself right now and remember that I don’t get a choice. This is reality now. “Oh, wow.” Lucia’s voice gives me a fright and I spin around to where she’s standing in the doorway. “My brother is going to love that.” She walks around me.
“It’s snug.” I am uncomfortable showing so much of myself.
“It’s hot,” she says, “and we are racing the clock, remember? It’s that or the bows and the frills.”
I accept defeat and realize I only have sneakers here. That’s going to be a sexy look.
“I don’t have shoes here.” I say and look down at the running shoes on the floor.
“Shit,” Lucia says, “What size are you?” She asks me.
“A five,” I say, “it’s fine. I’ll just make it work with my sneakers.”
“You are not a ‘runaway bride’” She shakes her head, “no, here I’m a five and a half, but these will do.” She kicks off her black Manolo’s and puts my high-top sneakers on her feet.
Oh well.
“Wait.” She says, stopping me. Riffling in her purse, she pulls out a coin and slips it in the shoe. “We don’t have all the borrowed and blue stuff, but I have the sixpence for your shoe . Tradition is important.” I swallow a lump in my throat.
“Thank you.” I mutter suddenly, more sentimental than I should be. “My shoes are borrowed.”
I always wanted to wear my mother’s pendant as my something old — and imagined my father giving me his blue pocket hanky as I got teary-eyed. This is nothing like I imagined, but Nevio is not the worst thing that could have happened to me.
She hands me a hairbrush and her make-up bag. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s in there, but I’m sure you can find enough to make yourself feel more bride-like.”
I take it from her and look inside. Selecting the soft pink lip gloss and the black mascara, waterproof, as if I am going to be bawling my eyes out, I do my makeup.
Her skin tone is almost similar to mine, similar enough that when I dab her concealer under my eyes, it looks like it belongs to me.
“My driver will take you, and Nevio is going to wait there.” Lucia is different from what I imagined her to be. She always seemed so bratty — I never expected her to be kind.
“This is very overwhelming,” I say, sitting on the bed, looking down at my feet. The coin under my foot getting warm and moving slightly when I wiggle my toes in the shoes that are just too big for me. “I think I need to call my brother.” I say, turning to look at my dead cell phone. I don’t have a charger, and never thought to ask Nevio when he was here earlier.
“Your brother is the one who arranged all of this, isn’t he?” Lucia asks, picking up her handbag and getting ready to leave.
“Yes.”
“Then trust him, he might even be there, at the church. Come on, we have to get going.” She walks towards the door and I jump up. “My brother will absolutely kill me if I get you to your own wedding late.”