Mistoffelees
Her hair was perfect.
Her makeup was perfect.
Her gown was perfect.
So were her shoes, her smile, the flowers, the weather, and the music.
All she needed to do now was to walk down the aisle and get married.
She'd done this before. She wasn't at all nervous.
She held her chin high.
She kept her breathing even.
Her smile remained in place.
Her curls were smooth, and rich, and vibrant.
She had spent years waiting for this moment. To start a new family. To give and to love. To be a whole woman.
The little something inside her kept its silence.
The wedding cake was made by an extremely famous family-owned bakery in Hoboken.
Some of the guests would get drunk.
All of the guests would dance the Chicken Dance.
Step by step. She walked toward Joe. Her soon-to-be husband. Grandma Bella's favorite. The Italian Stallion.
All the hairs on his body. All the passion. All the lean mean muscles.
Yes, Joe would be a great father.
The elderly priest smiled at her.
Do you take this man as your lawful husband.
To have and to hold.
From this day forward.
For better or for worse.
For richer or for poorer.
In sickness and in health.
To love and cherish.
Until death do you part?
The sound of her blood. Racing through her veins. Roared in her ears.
Her smile twitched a little, her throat suddenly as dry as a desert. Slightly her hands trembled.
The kind priest was waiting for her answer.
Joe was waiting for her answer.
Everyone in this big wild world was waiting for her answer.
The little something inside her was waiting for her answer.
Don't bend. Don't break. Baby. Don't back down.
She took a deep deep breath. This was her life and her choice. This was her own decision.
Calmly and slowly she said, in a clear crisp tone:
"Potato."
The world fell silent.
The old priest blinked. Joe's smile faltered. Some people gaped. Some people gawked.
Some people frowned in confusion. Her mother almost fainted.
She widened her eyes. She opened her mouth.
Once again she said it loud and clear.
This was her life.
This was her choice.
This was her decision.
Did she not deserve happiness?
Did she not deserve to be a whole woman?
Did she not deserve it all?
Husband. Children. Pet. White picket fence. Rose garden.
Diapers. Condoms. Love. Sex. Pills. Hot meals on the table.
The little something inside her stirred and hummed a little.
Her voice echoed through the silence:
"Potato."
The tarnished coin inside her bedside drawer burst into cold invisible flames.
The crowd exploded.