THE BRIDE
The white dress - satin and lace - hung lifelessly from its hanger. The antiquated alarm clock on my dresser told me that the time was four in the morning. I hadn't slept a wink so far, and my reflection in the mirror showed the past unruly hours mercilessly stamped onto my face. I felt at least a century old, and according to my reflection, looked it. There was a cruel touch around the corners of my mouth; traces of the bitter thoughts within me.
Derin and I had known each other as children, we had been a couple all through our high school and college days. No one - least of all, I - doubted that Derin and I would someday end up together bonded in holy matrimony. This belief was strengthened by our engagement just before he left to take a job on the other coast. We parted with a promise - that our wedding date would be the same as his parents' - the twelfth of August - as soon as we had the opportunity, which was most likely the next year.
Things started to go wrong six months after Derin left. By then, I discovered how much I had made him the centre of my life, that I had no friends except his. I was lonely and miserable, and an occasional letter or call from Derin or the T.V didn't help much. I decided to contact my old college friends, and soon found myself accepted in the clique again.
It was a mistake.
A mistake, because soon all the trust I had in Derin began to vapourize as I found out things about him that I had never known before. I began to view his letters and calls in a different light, and started to doubt their sincerity.
Of all my former college mates, none was closer to me than Conway. He was easy to talk to and his leisurely nature was contagious, he taught me to relax, showed me that work wasn't everything in life. I enjoyed my daily after-work squash sessions with him - he'd taught me the game - and since I'd informed Derin about it, disregarded the rumours that were beginning to circulate in our clique.
One night, I called Derin only to hear a female voice at the other end I quickly hung up, and all my dammed-up emotions-disappointment, anger, frustration, everything - melted into a flood of tears. My mind seemed to be going in circles, and I was badly in need of someone to talk to; Con.
Soothed by his consoling words, cheered by his sympathetic smile as the rain sprayed lightly against the window of his bachelor pad, I forgot all about Derin and the misery he had caused me.
I had made a mistake, unknowingly.
Later, much later, I found out that Derin had moved and that the lady who'd answered was the new tenant. I felt guilty, for I had wronged Derin, and to make matters worse, he informed me that his new job enabled us to get marred this twelfth of August.
Preparations were made, and I was amidst them in a state of utter bewilderment. No one asked me for my opinion, for no one would have guessed that I wasn't so convinced that getting married to Derin was such a good idea any more. My mother seemed to enjoy herself organising the wedding, and I hated to spoil her fun.
The big day drew nearer, and both Derin and Con kept pressuring me to make up my mind, Con sensing perhaps that I could not - would not - let go of Derin. On the other hand, I didn't want to let go of Con either, I was more comfortable with him than I had been with Derin all those years.
I compared them both: Derin, whom I had known for more than half my life, to whom all my plans and aspirations were tied; he was good-looking, had a successful career now, was financially stable, and with him, my life would most probably turn out the way I'd intended it to. And Conway - unsettled because of his job as a journalist, always financially in dire straits, always on the move - not nearly as good-looking as Derin, but with an irresistible mischievous smile, whom I trusted. His nasty habits - he had several - made him hard to live with, but he was also impossible to live without.
Joined together, they formed the perfect man, and if I'd had my way, I'd have married them both. But I had to make my choice, it was now or never.
Slowly I retrieved my wedding dress from its hanger, held it against me and stepped in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time. Then I flung it out of one of the open tinted-glass windows and watched as satin and lace disappeared in the darkness of the night, twenty-three storeys below.
TJ U6A5
Derin and I had known each other as children, we had been a couple all through our high school and college days. No one - least of all, I - doubted that Derin and I would someday end up together bonded in holy matrimony. This belief was strengthened by our engagement just before he left to take a job on the other coast. We parted with a promise - that our wedding date would be the same as his parents' - the twelfth of August - as soon as we had the opportunity, which was most likely the next year.
Things started to go wrong six months after Derin left. By then, I discovered how much I had made him the centre of my life, that I had no friends except his. I was lonely and miserable, and an occasional letter or call from Derin or the T.V didn't help much. I decided to contact my old college friends, and soon found myself accepted in the clique again.
It was a mistake.
A mistake, because soon all the trust I had in Derin began to vapourize as I found out things about him that I had never known before. I began to view his letters and calls in a different light, and started to doubt their sincerity.
Of all my former college mates, none was closer to me than Conway. He was easy to talk to and his leisurely nature was contagious, he taught me to relax, showed me that work wasn't everything in life. I enjoyed my daily after-work squash sessions with him - he'd taught me the game - and since I'd informed Derin about it, disregarded the rumours that were beginning to circulate in our clique.
One night, I called Derin only to hear a female voice at the other end I quickly hung up, and all my dammed-up emotions-disappointment, anger, frustration, everything - melted into a flood of tears. My mind seemed to be going in circles, and I was badly in need of someone to talk to; Con.
Soothed by his consoling words, cheered by his sympathetic smile as the rain sprayed lightly against the window of his bachelor pad, I forgot all about Derin and the misery he had caused me.
I had made a mistake, unknowingly.
Later, much later, I found out that Derin had moved and that the lady who'd answered was the new tenant. I felt guilty, for I had wronged Derin, and to make matters worse, he informed me that his new job enabled us to get marred this twelfth of August.
Preparations were made, and I was amidst them in a state of utter bewilderment. No one asked me for my opinion, for no one would have guessed that I wasn't so convinced that getting married to Derin was such a good idea any more. My mother seemed to enjoy herself organising the wedding, and I hated to spoil her fun.
The big day drew nearer, and both Derin and Con kept pressuring me to make up my mind, Con sensing perhaps that I could not - would not - let go of Derin. On the other hand, I didn't want to let go of Con either, I was more comfortable with him than I had been with Derin all those years.
I compared them both: Derin, whom I had known for more than half my life, to whom all my plans and aspirations were tied; he was good-looking, had a successful career now, was financially stable, and with him, my life would most probably turn out the way I'd intended it to. And Conway - unsettled because of his job as a journalist, always financially in dire straits, always on the move - not nearly as good-looking as Derin, but with an irresistible mischievous smile, whom I trusted. His nasty habits - he had several - made him hard to live with, but he was also impossible to live without.
Joined together, they formed the perfect man, and if I'd had my way, I'd have married them both. But I had to make my choice, it was now or never.
Slowly I retrieved my wedding dress from its hanger, held it against me and stepped in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time. Then I flung it out of one of the open tinted-glass windows and watched as satin and lace disappeared in the darkness of the night, twenty-three storeys below.
TJ U6A5
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