The Contract Wife Chronicles

The nervousness kicks in full time when my veil is placed atop my head. I open my eyes slowly and come face to face with my reflection in the brightly lit full length mirror. My stomach drops and I feel the tears spring into my eyes. The only thing I can think to myself as I take in my appearance is "ugly". This dress is ugly and I look ugly.

It's a pale ivory color, with a neckline so high it looks like I'm wearing a turtle neck. Layers of hideous, frothy lace line the bodice and sleeves and the bottom opens out in large swaths of even more lace. It's so heavy it's a wonder how I'm still standing. Camilla sighs from behind me and I know she's also not impressed.

"It's ugly, isn't it?". I ask, my voice thick with tears.

She looks up at me in alarm and takes in my watering eyes. "No no no…..what do you think you are doing?". She comes around to stand in front of me and yanks a tissue paper from the box on standby, pressing it gently onto my eyes to dab away my tears. "You look beautiful, Vanessa". I notice the way she avoids my eyes as she says that. She's never been good at lying. "Mum would have been proud to see you in her dress".

I doubt that, I think to myself as I glance at my reflection again. Mum had loved her dress alright but she of everyone also knew that just like the years, trends come and go. She would have wanted me to wear something very trendy this year, just like this dress had been back in the 80s.

"Dad will come and get you soon". She crumples the tissue paper in her hand and flashes me a quick, watery smile. "I can't believe you are getting married". She whispers.

I shake my head at the mirror. "I can't believe it too". And that's true. I hadn't even known I'd be getting married till three weeks ago. I had simply come down to the family house for a supposedly important family meeting and heard the news myself. I have only met my husband-to-be twice and both times, I was really not impressed. He talks with his mouth wide open, laughs like a clown, has an astonishingly shiny bald spot even though he's just 29, can't stop referring to his parents as "mummy" and "daddy", makes crude jokes about how impressive he's sure my "bedroom performances" will be…..Good Lord, I could write a whole book about everything that's wrong with Cody MacMillan. And that's not including the rumours I've heard, especially the most popular one about his erectile dysfunction. I'm not even eager to find out if that's true or not.

The door opens behind us and Dad walks in, a wide smile on his face. His eyes widen when he sees me. "Oh my…..you….you look beautiful, honey". I would have believed him if I didn't see the slight twitch of his mouth. My father has always been like this. Well built, handsome and packed with more than enough good humour to go around. He's that parent that laughs first when you fall before offering to help you up, the one who loves to play pranks, the one who laughs at your prom date's ill fitting suit right in his face…..that's until mum died. It's been almost 10 years and it's toll on him is still very clear. Even though he still laughs, his eyes no longer twinkle and more often than we would have liked, we catch him just staring emptily into space.

"Dad, not you too". I mumble grumpily.

He pauses for a little while before bursting into laughter. Even though I should feel bad, I find myself relieved that at least one person is being true to me. A small, amused smile spreads on my face too.

"Ness….Ness I'm so sorry". He's still laughing.

"Dad, you are being rude". Camilla chides. I bump her arm playfully.