Friday, December 30, 2011

I was Married Once, short story

Another Short Story...Continued...
I think I was wearing Rodarte. No, it must have been Balmain because it cinched the champagne bubbles out of me. None the less, it was a binding number I stole from one of my father's ex-girlfriends. Now that I recall, I wish I'd worn something more appropriate. Perhaps lace or tiered, something like the Monique Lhuillier tulle my mother made me wear to prom. Besides, isn't one's first marriage all about the dress? Mine was stolen. In my teen years I went through a phase where I would steal things  from my father's girlfriends. Luxurious goodies he so easily won them over with.  It was entertaining to just wear it in front of them and  pretend to lack the slightest idea of their accusations.
Anyways,  back to my wedding...the bits that I can fully recall that is. I can recall dinner, but I know a handful of dumb activities kept us entertained before we found ourselves in a chapel. He called someone to bring all these papers. "What's to sign? I promise not to take your Lobbs if you wont take my Loubs," I said fanning the Vegas heat off with my Morenita.

I was drunk, he was bored. We were searching for an answer neither one of us really wanted just yet.
It took me two years to recall exactly what happened that night. It didn't help that he disappeared right after. I woke up alone with an itenerary of my travels home in a sealed envelope he placed on my trunks. I havent the slightest clue how he moved my luggage to that hotel suite. And so it began, a marriage of the silent treatment.
Although I was felt him around, he wouldn't see me. Inexplicably I knew he was monitoring me, causing me to develop a level of paranoia - constantly turning back and looking for him. I also changed my look, stopped shopping in my father's girlfriends closets and turned to a vintage dress phase. I figured an already worn and lived piece might change what I was living. Maybe the stories of the previous dress owners would rub off on me. On the brim of five months he decided to talk...continued from

5 Stack Vintage Dress

this is one of a series of cinched short stories, find more...