"How long can it possibly take to make alterations on such a simple dress?" Manuela's aunt growled in disapprobation.
"I am very sorry, Your Excellency. Perhaps if the lady would stop fidgeting so much…" the seamstress replied meekly, shooting Manuela a dirty glare from below. "Please keep your arms wide open and stand still."
"I can't stand still with needles pricking me from every angle, I assure you," Manuela snapped back with similar disdain.
"Quiet!" was her aunt's only word of support before she turned her attention back to her book with an exasperated sigh.
Manuela, too, wanted to sigh in exasperation. Rage was slowly building in the pit of her stomach and was threatening to overcome her every time she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the gigantic mirror. She had delayed this moment for as long as she could, until she had completely ran out of excuses and her aunt's patience had been challenged to a dangerous point. With the wedding now only a few days away, there had been no way to avoid this ridiculous dress fitting. And ridiculous was exactly how Manuela was feeling in the middle of the study room-turned fitting room for the day in that bland, second (or third?) hand wedding gown. She would tear that horrible garment to pieces the first chance she got. And probably even set it on fire too, for good measure, Manuela thought as a discreet smile crept across her lips.
"Is there something funny?"
Manuela made eye contact with her visibly unamused aunt in the mirror and was about to retort when the faint sound of the doorbell resonated from downstairs.
The woman held her gaze for a few seconds, her eyes cold and unwavering, before she got up from the armchair and went to the door.
"I want this to be over when I come back," she commanded with a look over her shoulder, and disappeared in the hallway.
Manuela wondered who could be visiting on a Sunday, so close to lunch, all the more so since her aunt and uncle barely even received any visits. To be perfectly fair, it was not really surprising considering how trite and unpleasant their company was.
"Please. Stand. Still!" the seamstress ordered and Manuela complied with a faint nod as the woman resumed her work on the dress. Desperate for a distraction, the girl held her breath and strained her ear in the hope to catch any indication about this mysterious visitor's identity.
For a moment, only the faint sound of fabric rustling and the clock ticking could be heard, and Manuela almost assumed the person was long gone until she heard a loud voice from downstairs. It appeared to be a woman's voice and it was getting progressively louder. She could not make out the words, but this woman sounded agitated and possibly irritated, which made Manuela chuckle under her breath. When she heard her aunt's usually low and monotonous voice rise uncharacteristically, however, she realised something was happening downstairs. Something possibly serious, or at the very least, entertaining.
"What are you doing? Get back here!" the poor woman protested once again as the girl took a few steps back to stick her ear against the door.
Her indignation only grew when Manuela held out a hand to silence her and she could only stand back and watch as the girl's eyes abruptly widened, lightening with something akin to recognition.
"I'm sorry, I need to see what this is all about," she mumbled hurriedly before collecting the fabric of her dress in her hand and swinging the door open.
Manuela did not stop at the seamstress' outraged commands, and all but hurtled down the stairs, driven by an indescribable surge of hope. As she reached the last steps, she slowed down her pace and felt suddenly hesitant. From there, she could only see her aunt's back and she was still unable to identify her interlocutor from behind the slightly ajar door. What if she had mistaken the voice she thought she had recognised? No doubt her aunt would be furious if she interrupted her conversation without a perfectly valid reason… But when the other person spoke again, there was no doubt left and Manuela felt her pulse race so much that for a second, she thought she might faint.
"I am not asking much. I simply want to say goodbye to my students before I leave. And this includes Manuela…"
Wait. Leave?
Manuela did not think twice and hurried to the door.
"Fräulein von Bernburg," she simply said, unable to keep the tremor from tainting her voice although she could not yet see the woman fully.
Her aunt spun around, eyes dark and threatening.
"What do you think you are doing here? Get back upstairs!"
"I'm sorry auntie but… This is my teacher. Can't you at least let me greet her? It would be rude not to."
The woman glared for a minute, before letting her hand drop to the side and stepping away from the door.
"This woman came here unannounced and most of all uninvited; she will not set foot into my house. If you want to freeze to death only to talk to her outside, then by all means, do so. You have two minutes," she recited through gritted teeth.
Manuela sighed in relief and did a grateful curtsey as her aunt walked past her. It took all her willpower not run outside, but when she finally stepped out and the ethereal vision of Elisabeth von Bernburg greeted her, Manuela could not contain her tears. She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry as her knees almost gave out. Although they had not seen each other for what felt like centuries, one look into those loving blue eyes and it felt like they had never been apart.
"Hello," Manuela whispered, not trusting her own ability to form words.
"Hello Manuela."
Elisabeth seemed similarly moved and she was smiling through tears, but her eyes conveyed a particularly heart-wrenching emotion. She looked hurt, more than anything else, and it made Manuela frown in deep concern.
"What is it?" she asked and instinctively reached out for her hand. It was warm and delicate, exactly as she remembered it. After all these months apart, Manuela was finally touching the woman she loved and it felt so incredible that her eyes closed for a split second.
"You look… very pretty," Elisabeth murmured and it suddenly dawned on Manuela.
She looked down at herself, in that stupid wedding gown and the need to tear it from her body came back even more forcefully.
"It's not… She made me try it on. I hate this. All of this," she said almost pleadingly.
"I know."
They studied each other in silence for a moment with their hands still joined in front of them.
"I love you."
Elisabeth blinked, before breaking into a sincere, luminous smile and lifting her teary eyes to the sky. Her smile soon fell and she squeezed the hand in hers to the point it was almost painful.
"I'm leaving," she finally said.
"You are?" was all Manuela could say in return.
"On Thursday. I will be living with my sister, at least for a while."
"Your sister. In America." It was not a question and Elisabeth nodded resolutely.
"Yes. And I want you to come with me."
"Wh- Elisabeth! How?"
"Lower your voice. Your aunt might be spying on us," the woman said, shooting a worried glance towards the house.
"She probably is," Manuela said matter-of-factly but not tearing her eyes away from the woman in front of her for a second. "Now how exactly should I elope with you to America?"
"You just need to find a way to get to the station on Thursday. I'll take care of the rest."
Manuela's mouth fell agape and she looked at Elisabeth as if she had suddenly gone crazy.
"No! What if I fail? Would you leave without me?"
Elisabeth took a sharp breath and looked away.
"Elisabeth, please. Tell me you wouldn't leave without me."
"Your wedding is planned for Friday, isn't it?" she asked, her tone even but with a slight hint of reproach.
It was Manuela's turn to look uneasy. Of course. If she was unable to get away, there would be no way for her to avoid the wedding.
"We could still see each other… I don't want to get married. Lord knows how much I despise the idea… but if it could not be helped…"
"No!" Elisabeth snapped, yanking her hand away from Manuela's grip. "I will not stay here and wait in the dark for your husband to grant you a monthly cup of tea with your old teacher. I don't care if it is selfish of me; I want you all to myself. And if this is impossible, I would rather never see you again."
"Do you think I want any of this? Do you th- all to yourself? Now, I like the sound of that."
"Be serious! We don't have much time before your demented aunt comes back to shoo me away."
"Sorry, yes. What should I do?"
Elisabeth reached for something in her purse and took hold of Manuela's hand again before placing a small piece of paper in her palm.
"Everything you need to know is here."
"What if I can't get away? What if they catch me? Could it be the last time I see you?" the girl asked, her voice laced with sudden fear.
"I certainly hope not," the other woman replied with a smile, but apprehension was evident in her eyes. "I should go…"
"No, please. Please, not yet…"
"Manuela. Be reasonable."
Without a warning, the girl engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug and buried her head in the crook of her neck.
"My only wedding will be to you, one day."
"Not in that ugly dress, I hope," Elisabeth said with a watery chuckle and she tightened her grip around Manuela's waist. "I believe in you, darling."
"I… I will do my best."
"Get back inside. Don't watch me go. And I'll see you on Thursday," the woman said with one final squeeze. She pulled away, unable to resist pressing a quick kiss at the corner of Manuela's mouth and turned on her heels without another word just as the door flew open.
"Manuela!" her aunt grumbled from inside the house.
"Yes, auntie. I'm coming."