began to weep again. They raised the stretcher and locked it into place with a snapping sound. As they wheeled her toward the ambulance, Brenda saw that Glen had walked back toward Jane. Their heads were bent together and Jane’s voice wafting back sounded angry. She hoped Jane wasn’t blaming Glen for not having been home. It would be just like her protective best friend. But it wasn’t Glen’s fault, Brenda wanted to tell her. He was fixing a neighbor’s fence to earn some extra money so they could take a long, romantic weekend away. Glen was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
On the way to the hospital, as the ambulance’s siren careened in and out of her ears, Brenda’s groggy mind drifted back to the happiest day of her life.
It was the day she had waited for, dreamed about, for years. Now everything would be sublime. Brenda had polished the house to a high gloss and worked day and night to get caught up at work so she could take some time off.
After applying a little gray eye shadow and some lip gloss, Brenda checked her watch and fluffed her shoulder length brown hair with her fingertips. She kept her hair long enough to dress up when she had a date yet short enough to sweep back out of her way when she wore her nurse’s uniform. The movement was just enough to release the scent of her shampoo—vanilla.
She took an Art Deco hair comb from the vanity. It was gold, shaped into a fluted leaf and highlighted with five diamonds. Her grandmother, who had given the comb to her, said she had bought the ornament in 1940 from Cartier and Brenda should wear it as “something old” on her wedding day. Now Brenda swept the comb through the side of her hair, then flipped its direction and pushed it in. The comb held the lock of hair in the perfect position. The diamonds sparkled, adding a nice contrast to her dark hair.
Brenda was finally in love and she would show off her man to her family and friends. Those people who hadn’t met Glen would be shocked that she could land such a good-looking guy. She heard the voices in her head of the kids at school chanting, as they had so many years before, their own version of the Carly Simon song; “You’re so plain, you probably think this song is about you, Brenda.”
“Glen thinks I’m pretty,” she told herself and shoved the memory of her classmates’ cruel words and how they had hurt aside.
Brenda gazed into the mirror where her milky white skin, pale blue eyes with flecks of gray and the strong jawline she had inherited from her father’s side of the family were reflected. But Brenda shook her head. All she could ever see when she looked in the mirror were her flaws. She thought her skin was too pasty, her hair too limp and stringy, her face too angular and her hips too broad.
When she was in high school, her big sister had told her she would grow out of her self-conscious nature, but Brenda never did. Even though she had read Our Bodies, Ourselves six times, along with a ton of other self-esteem books, she still was over-critical of her face and body, especially today. She wanted to look perfect for him.
She let her fingertips dance across the form-fitting bodice she was wearing. She closed her eyes and wondered if her great-grandmother had felt this aroused on her wedding day. Had this outfit made her feel sexy? Had she been nervous, too? Had her body ached for her lover’s hands to cup her breasts? Stroke her inner thigh? Had she longed to be in her lover’s arms?
Brenda let out a deep breath and opened her eyes. She hadn’t worn this outfit just because it was an heirloom. No, she really liked the gown and hoped to hand it down to her daughter someday. It would be wonderful to say that five generations had worn this same outfit.
The dress was beautiful. Made of creamy ivory lace, it had a high collar and tiny, peach-colored satin roses lining both the collar and the mutton sleeves. Brenda fluffed the sleeves, then tugged at the corseted waistband of the skirt. She wished she’d had the time to lose ten pounds. She told herself the pale, peach-colored chiffon skirt flowed smoothly over her hips and made her look taller and thinner, but nevertheless she agonized that he might think her heavy.
Brenda imagined the man she loved and was marrying making love to her. Because she had wanted this to be so special she had convinced him to wait. He was tall and muscular from lifting weights each day and she had no doubt she would enjoy making love to his body. The question was, would he enjoy hers?
She nervously twisted the platinum engagement ring on her finger and the light caught the diamond, making it sparkle. She couldn’t believe they were actually going to be married.
“Billy Gunn’s old-maid daughter is finally going to get married,” she said and thought back to the day she had first suspected that Glen might propose.
She had gone to visit him in Kansas City. Two months before that day, he and Brenda had met almost serendipitously. Glen had arrived in Kansas City only a few days before, and was reading a map while driving. Brenda’s car was in front of him and when she suddenly stopped he rear-ended her car. Since it wasn’t serious and only her bumper was damaged, they didn’t bother calling the police but did exchange insurance information. Brenda had been feeling lonely and overworked that day and Glen was charming, assuming full responsibility for the accident, promising to have her car fixed and seeming to care so much that she might be injured. They began to see each other regularly. The first time she realized that he might be getting serious was at the ice-cream shop, when they were picking out the flavors of their cones. Brenda had ordered cookies-n-cream and Glen had requested rocky road then turned to her and said something that stuck with her all the next day: “I have something very important about our future to talk over with you tomorrow.” Then he had smiled, looking into her eyes. When she had questioned him, he had refused to tell her what he was referring to. “It’s a surprise!” he’d said.
She wondered all the next day. Is he going to ask me to marry him? No, that can’t be it. It is way too soon. We’ve only been dating for two months. But, what if he does? What will I do?
That night, he did propose and presented her with the engagement ring she now wore.
She had wanted to throw her arms around him and scream at the top of her lungs, “Yes!” But instead, she remained calm saying, “You know this is crazy. We hardly know each other.”
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then how can it be too soon? We aren’t teenagers. We know what true love is.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She was thirty-five and had never been married. In fact, she’d never even been a bridesmaid. He was forty, had been married and divorced, but that didn’t bother her. She knew the chances at her age of finding a man who hadn’t been married before were unlikely.
He grinned. “I’d like to go to a Justice of the Peace tomorrow.”
“No,” she answered softly.
His face dropped.
“I want to wear my great-grandmother’s gown and have a real ceremony—small, but perfect.”
He smiled. “Then I guess you’d better introduce me
