When she thought about it at all, Carol remembered three things (like the Father, Son & Holy Ghost…) from her wedding day:
The first was the twisty, fluttery feeling of the tiny creature that would become her daughter move for the first time inside of her, the very moment, she, Carol, grasped the hand of the man that was the keeper of her soul and the master of her body.
This body, in which something precious was growing, yes, but also in which something was dying: because the second thing Carol remembers from that day in a tiny, plain chapel with a few disinterested relatives and Ed's drinking buddies (who all really looked like they wished the marryin' part was over and the drinkin' part would start) was how much her body hurt, all of the parts of her hidden by her long-sleeved white dress, and how the pain seemed to seep beyond her bruised and cut flesh, sink into her bones.
And how could she live like this? But how could she not live, with her daughter blooming inside of her, next to the fear and the worry and the self-recrimination? But who would be born out of this cocktail of pain and deference? Who was she making? What sort of life would result from these choices she had made, these choices she hadn't made?
But mostly, when she makes herself remember that day, she remembers…
…stepping outside into the chilly early- fall air, goose bumps rising on her arms, even under those required long sleeves. The door to the honky-tonk whooshing softly shut behind her, muffling the grinding tones of the house band, the cawing laughter of bar patrons, and most importantly, the bellowing roars of her newly-minted husband and his intoxicated friends.
She hugs herself, knowing it's the most affection she'll get on this, her wedding night. Her baby, her girl, moves again, and Carol's hands travel to her slightly swelled stomach. She forgets the dingy parking lot and gazes up at the clear, cold sky, hums under her breath. She opens her mouth, sings quietly.
"Twinkle, twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are…"
The baby flips around inside her in approval, and Carol clutches her stomach tightly. And wonders.