I shook my head a few times, releasing the shiver of memories, and looked behind me to the near-empty room. My bed was gone, the spongy white carpet dominating the space, while the new daybed in the corner had become a shelf for all things bridal, except the bouquets, which were lined up on the hallstand beside the window. It might not have been my room anymore, but it still felt like my room, except, like me, it was changed beyond recognition. My face, my hands, everything was polished and shined, shaped and fashioned to look like the bride standing by the mirror in her wedding dress.
The swirling vortex of time had swept everything up, and I was next—destined to leave everyone behind. But that was always my destiny, wasn’t it? And one day soon, I was sure it would carry me away from Mike.
But not today.
Under my thumb, the white flowers stitched into the veil sitting over the chair back felt silky. This veil was one of the reasons Mike gave no protest over going home at Christmas time. He’d salvaged a few things when he and his mum cleared out my old house after I left—my mum’s veil being one of them. I don't think I ever cried so hard as when he handed me a box, wearing that cheeky grin, and I opened it to see white tulle. He and Dad found it utterly amusing, but I was sure half Dad’s tears of hilarity were owed to emotions he wouldn’t admit.
Outside my window, the familiar chatter of my little bluebird friend formed the soundtrack to my faraway thoughts. I snapped from my reverie, tilted the mirror back down and watched the bird dancing in the reflection, bouncing happily as if life just went on. So simple. That’s it; eat, sing, dance and play.
I wished I were a bluebird. I’d fly away—over the rainbow.
But life was not a novel and people didn’t really get happy endings. I finally understood all the negative philosophical one-liners this town loved so much. They were phrases invented by smart people who knew life wasn’t made of dreams, even though it sometimes felt like one.
David said it best, though: “Even dreams eventually die.”
We’re not the leading ladies of our own illusory films. This is life and we are real. The time had come for me to grow up and, if I couldn't live the life I wanted, I had to at least live the lie. Either way, they were making me move on.
I ran my fingers over the yellow and silver embroidered cherry blossoms, flowing like a swarm of butterflies over the fitted bodice of my white dress. I wasn’t totally sold on the full hoop skirt and long train, but it had been a stipulation of Vicki’s that she get to help choose the dress—without any arguments. The only thing we really argued on, the only thing I really enforced was that my bouquet be white, with only accents of yellow. No red. It caused massive debates, until Mike stepped in and told Vicki it was my choice.
Vicki meant well, but she could never understand what the red rose once meant to me, how it represented the part of me that would always belong to David. That was a different time; I wish it were a different life.
I took a wispy breath and felt my heart flutter as I pushed his face away from my mind. I couldn’t have any thoughts of him today or I’d fall to pieces. There is, and never was, a David Knight. He died in nineteen-thirteen when his uncle bit him and turned him into a vampire. He never loved me, never promised me eternity—never existed. I was moving on, as he did—leaving all hope of love and destiny to the children who read fairytales.
They say that spring represents new beginnings; the end of the darkness; the cloaking of faux pas—the chance to wake up and start all over again. David would never be far from my thoughts, but I would live for the rest of my life without him in my embrace.
I looked at myself in the mirror again, at the bride, the woman that now stood before me: this was moving on.
“Ara? Are you okay?” Emily smiled at me from the doorway.
“Emily! You look beautiful,” I all but squealed and hugged her as she walked over to me. She held me tight. Then, standing her at arms length, I smiled, admiring her dress. “Yellow is definitely your colour.”
“Well, thank you for choosing such a tasteful bridesmaid dress.” She smiled, running her fingers over the chiffon.
“I’m glad we went for the shorter dress—it’s says spring to me.” I tapped my chin.
“It doesn’t feel like spring. It’s so cold today.” She smiled and tilted her head to one side, pausing there for a second. “Is it David? Is that what you were thinking about just now?”
A rush of hot blood shot through my stomach; I clutched my silver locket. On my own, with the four walls of my room surrounding me—closing me in—convincing myself I could move on was easy. But in the presence of those who proved life was still real and still hurt, pretending I no longer belonged to him made me want to fold over and cry. “You know me too well.” I sighed, forcing myself to release the locket. “I’m gonna miss you, Emily.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll come see you real soon. You’ll see. And as for David? Well—” she touched my shoulder, “—Mike’s better for you than him, Ara.”
My eyes nearly leaped out of my head. “What! Did you just say what I think you just said?”
She laughed. “I know, I know. It’s a bit if a turnaround, but—” she shrugged. “I'm sorry, Mike’s proven himself in my books, Ara.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty likeable.” My fingers found the locket again and held it tight. “And I am happy, you know. I do love Mike.”
“I know.” She nodded.
“I just miss David, is all, and—” I faced the mirror again, dropping the chain from my fingers and letting it fall, cool against my skin. “I just needed a moment to reflect on that, I guess.”
“Oh!” We both looked up to the whimpering gasp as Vicki walked in and burst into tears—again. “My beautiful Ara-Rose. I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
“Been that way for a few months now, Mom,” I said and hugged her, being careful of my cascading curls.
“I know. It just feels like we only got you a few weeks ago, and now look at you—all grown up and leaving us.” She wiped away her tears. “Oh. Look at me, I’ve gone and smudged my makeup again.”
Emily and I exchanged a humoured smile as Vicki headed into my bathroom. The wardrobe she passed through was empty now. The rows and rows of clothes she bought me, the yellow dress, my box of pictures and everything else that made this room my own was on its way home now. On a freight plane back to Perth, which, after tonight, when I officially became Mrs Michael Christopher White, I would be too—except…not on a freight plane.