Tap, tap, tap, her fingers against the table. Tap, tap, tap, the dull clack of her ring against the glass top. Her best friends looked up at her and gave her a pitying stare. She sighed in frustration and tapped the too-tight ring harder.
“Is something wrong?” her fiancé asked in annoyance, obviously because she was interrupting his all too important conversation with their wedding planner.
“Nope,” she said stiffly, in that way that said ‘Yes, but leave me the hell alone.’
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, could you stop with the tapping? It’s distracting,” he said. He didn’t ask, he said it, as though she were a misbehaved child. She smiled, glared, and smacked her hand flat on the table. The sound echoed through the room and her friends fidgeted unhappily.
Her fiancé rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the wedding planner. “So, I really like powder pink and powder blue. The flowers should be pink and white, and my wife’s bouquet should be mostly pink daisies.”
“I hate pink and I’m allergic to daisies,” ‘And I’m not your wife yet, you cocky b*****d’ she said flatly.
“But you look lovely in pink and daisies are my favorite. I think it will be beautiful. We’ll go with pink and daisies.” The wedding planner nodded and wrote everything down.
“Whatever,” she mumbled under her breath, fiddling with her ring and wincing when it came loose. She looked down at her red, swollen finger and sighed again. The whole thing was driving her insane. Her fiancé, John, had decided everything for their wedding so far. From the colors, to the cake, to the reception hall and the décor for it, to what they were serving and who was invited. Kit hadn’t made one decision and barely spoke at all, sitting quietly like a “good wife” and nodding deafly.
The whole thing was one traditional mess and Kit was anything but a traditional girl. They were getting married in his mother’s church, Kit wearing her too large, ancient dress that she just yearned to take scissors to and burn the evidence. There was too much fabric, too much lace, and too much white. She just generally hated it, but John said his mother would be heart-broken if she didn’t, so she agreed.
Nothing about the wedding thrilled her, not the new lifestyle she was marrying into. She remembered back to about a month ago, not long after John had proposed. They were going to his mother’s for dinner. Kit put on her good jeans and a snazzy top she’d just gotten. But when John got there to pick her up he ushered her back inside.
“John, now what?” she asked, just managing to hide her irritation.
“You can’t go over there dressed like that,” he said, his tone almost matter-of-fact.
Kit gave him a confused look. “What do you mean? I always dress this way.”
John sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Kit, you know how old fashioned my mother is. Your shirt is pretty, but it’s…well, honey, it’s just a little too revealing,” he said. His voice was almost sickeningly sweet, and Kit
was getting sick.
“It’s no more low cut than any of my other blouses,” she said, still not sure where the ‘too revealing’ thing came from.
John sighed, bowed his head for a moment, and then smiled and took her hands. Here it came again. “Honey…you know I love you very much and that I think you are the most amazing person in the world. You’re beautiful no matter what you wear. But, my mother really values modesty. I don’t want there to be some…issue over the clothes you wear. You’re my forever, honey, and I want my forever to be…perfect.”
Kit mentally gagged. “Fine, I’ll go change my shirt,” she said, turning to head back to her room.
“Well wait a minute, wait a minute. I bought you something special for tonight actually.” He handed her a bag, smiling sweetly the entire time. She forced her own sweet smile and took the bag, hurrying back to her room.
She stared at the garment in disgust. Not only was it a horrific cream color, but it had panels of lace and fake pearls all over it. She stepped in front of her mirror and held it up to herself. The dress fell just below her knees and had absolutely no shape to it. “Ugh, god, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She tossed it onto her bed and opened the shoe box that had also been in the bag. Out came the ugliest pair of pumps she had ever seen.
Surprisingly, they matched the color of the dress, but Kit didn’t want them anywhere near her feet. They were matt, patent leather one-inch heels and they were soft and worn in appearance. She sighed and looked at her favorite shoes, still strapped firmly to her feet. They were only four inches and she’d always thought the lace on black satin was a cute, classic look.
She walked into the hall feeling surprisingly shallow, but when John saw her he practically lit up. She had so hoped he’d been joking.
“Honey, you look fantastic! Oh, the dress fits you perfectly,” he said, talking her hands again and kissing her cheek softly.
Yeah…fantastic.
“…and have hers say, Mrs. John Stancliff,” Kit was pulled back to the present by her fiancé making yet another decision without consulting her.
“Whoa, wait a minute. My name is Kit, can’t I have my name on whatever we’re doing here?” she asked, looking across the table at her best friends. Her friend Katie pretended to knock back a glass of something hopefully strong and alcoholic and her friend Elizabeth motioned with her hands and mouthed the word ‘flute.’ “On my flute. Can’t I have my name on my flute?”
John chuckled uneasily. “But it will, honey. I just said it,” he said, waving his hand to brush her comment off as nonsense.
“My name is somehow turning into John when we get married?” She couldn’t believe this.
John sighed in frustration. “Honey, it’s tradition. Why don’t you go make up some tea?”
It was a command. She knew it was, and she ground her teeth as she stood from the table and made her way to the kitchen. Tradition, tradition. Everything was bloody tradition. She wandered down the hall in another horrible dress, a pair of tan shoes in a style similar to the ones John had bought her for the dinner clacking on the hard wood floor as she went. Her house felt completely unfamiliar to her even though she’d lived there for nearly three years. It was almost as though nothing in her home belonged to her anymore and she kept her head down as she walked, only so she didn’t have to look at it.
She’d never forget the day she came home from work and John had almost completely rearranged her house. She still couldn’t figure out how he’d managed it in the eight hours she was gone, but he had. Kit had regretted giving him a key for the longest time, but nothing like that day made her regret it more. She walked into her house after dealing with bitchy customers on the phone all day, and swore she’d walked into the wrong one.
Trinkets were missing, furniture had white covers, pictures and paintings had been taken off the walls, and any of her chimes and bells had been removed and packed away. The house was eerily quite and all she could do was stand there and look around for the longest time. If John hadn’t popped downstairs and exclaimed happily that he’d redone the house so that it was a proper married couple’s home, she would have called the police to report a robbery.
“…Where the hell is all my s**t?” she asked sadly, walking into the barren living room.
“Well I had to pack it away, silly. We can’t have all that dark and dreary stuff filling the house if we’re going to raise a family,” he said as though it were obvious.
“Dark and dreary stuff? It wasn’t dark and dreary stuff, those were collectable figurines and Katie’s and Elizabeth’s paintings and photos. Where the hell did you put them?” she asked, getting angrier by the second.
“I put them neatly in boxes and away in the attic. They’re fine until you give them back,” he said, trying to be soothing.
“What do you mean give them back? John, bring my s**t down and put it back! Now!” Kit said, raising her voice, something she rarely did.
“Don’t you raise your voice at me. It’s time to grow up, Kit. You’re my wife now, and you’ll do what I say!” he shouted.
“You ******** a*****e, get out of my way,” Kit said. She shoved passed him, unaffected by his shouting, and ran up the stairs to the attic. John followed and grabbed her, tugging her into her room despite her demands to release her. But when she saw the room, she stopped and her jaw dropped.
Nothing in the room was hers. Everything was gone and replaced with plain white. Her bedspread, her pillows, her curtains, even her walls had been repainted. She felt like she was in some kind of clean room. “What did you do?”
“You can’t have all that darkness everywhere all the time. It’s not healthy for a young woman. Besides, what would my mother say? She’d be furious. So, I put everything away, threw out that horrible makeup, and I even bought you some new clothes, see?” John went on, acting like what he’d done was pull her from the depths of hell and up to the pearly gates. He opened her closet door and she wanted to cry. Her clothes were all gone as well, and so her were shoes. Everything replaced with the same, dreary crap.
“John…” but she was completely shutting down.
“You’ll get used to it, honey. You’ll see,” he said, and he kissed her forehead softly and left the room.
Needless to say as soon as he left Kit broke into the locked attic and took her stuff back out. The only thing she really had the energy to do by that time was fix her bedroom. She couldn’t repaint it, but she covered every available surface in figurines, pictures, and paintings, and freed her poor shoes and clothes from their suffocating prisons. At least she had her room back.
“Kit?”
She gasped as Elizabeth popped up behind her and tugged her from her most hated memory, the china cup she’d had in her hands sliding from her fingers and shattering on the ********!” she shouted, startled, as she jumped away and hissed as a small piece cut into her leg. Lizzie didn’t even have time to ask her if she was okay. John ran shouting into the kitchen.
“KIT! What have I said about swearing!?” he shouted. Kit just closed her eyes and shook her head a little and Lizzie glared at him. He marched over and fumed at Kit. “Women should not swear! I’ve told you this. If my mother heard you—,”
“Well your mother isn’t here, you ********! Back off!” Katie shouted, marching over to Kit. Lizzie went about asking her if she was all right while Katie stood her ground as Katie always did.
“Look, this doesn’t concern you. It’s between me and my wife,” John said, trying to be a little calmer with Katie.
“She’s not your wife, a*****e,” Lizzie said angrily. Kit knew there was another half to that statement.
John glowered and huffed. “Maybe I’ll just have to have my cousins be the maid’s of honor. How about that?” he growled angrily.
“What the ******** is that supposed to be, a threat?” Katie almost laughed.
“ALL RIGHT!” Kit shouted, so loud ears were almost ringing. “Everyone get the ******** out of my house, right ******** now or so help me god!”
“Kit—,”
“No, John, get out.”
There was silence in the room and John just stared at her. “Excuse me? What did you say to me?” he asked calmly.
Kit finally snapped and stepped right up to him, her face mere inches from his. “I said. Get. Out. Of. My. House.” She punctuated each word sharply and clearly so that there was no mistaking them and stormed passed him into the sitting room.
John hurried after her and grabbed her arm hard, yanking her back. It took everything Kit had to not deck him. “You are completely out of line. How dare you speak to me like that,” he fumed.
Kit yanked her arm free and glowered. “No, this is completely out of line,” she said and she reached up, grabbing the neck of the ugly dress and ripping it from her body. Beneath she wore the usual bra and panties, but they were lacy and black. John’s jaw dropped and he looked from the horrified looking planner to his semi naked fiancé.
“Kit! What are…put your clothes…Kit!” he stammered.
The wedding planner was sitting there looking extremely uncomfortable, but Kit was less than concerned for his comfort level and grabbed his book, snapping it shut, and shoving it into his hands. “Please leave.” He didn’t hesitate.
“Kit, what do you think you are doing? That’s completely indecent!”
“John, I’m doing whatever the ******** I want to do, that’s what.”
“Would you please stop swearing!” he shouted.
Kit glared and kicked off her shoes. “********. ********, ********, ********. ********, ********. ********. Get out of my house. Now.” She picked up one of the disgusting things and chucked it at him.
He stared at her silently and she could just see the rage building up inside of him. Not because of what she was doing, but because she wasn’t listening to him. She was done taking orders. “Fine. I’ll call you later and we can discuss this like mature adults,” he said as he strode stiffly to the door.
Kit followed him over. “Mature my a**,” and she slammed the door shut.
Lizzie and Katie watched her as she stormed around the house for a moment, picking things up and cleaning up a little, pitching the shoes into the trash and ripping the ugly dress in half to send with them. She hurried up the stairs, finally feeling a little shaken, but also relieved.
“So, what are we doing?” Lizzie asked cautiously.
“We’re going out…so that I can get very, very, very drunk,” Kit said.
She marched into her room and threw open the closet, pulling out the sexiest pieces of clothing she had and changing into them. It had been so long since she’d worn anything of her own. A month had felt like years and she almost wanted to cry at that comfortable, safe, and content feeling she got as she tightened her corset and laced up her shoes, pulling out the makeup John had stolen from her and applying it in a way she hadn’t applied it in what felt like forever.
She sat there and stared at herself in her mirror, holding back her tears and just basking in the familiarity of her reflection. It didn’t show, but she could feel herself slowly building back to that strong Kit she’d been just months before.
But it wasn’t going to last. She looked down at the cheap ring on her finger and sighed.
“You’re an idiot if you go through with that. I’ll never forgive you,” Katie said from her doorway.
“Katie...”
“No. You do have a choice, Kit. Don’t worry about what everyone else wants. It’s not their place to tell you what to do with your life. Look at you, you’re miserable. I’ve never seen you as unhappy as you were today, and I’ve definitely never seen you as angry. ******** John, Kit. You don’t really like him anyway,” she said, getting the words out as fast as she could, as though she would never get another chance to say them again.
“He’s a goddamned duckweed, Kit. You never put up with that kind of stuff before. You’re better than that p***k,” Lizzie added, her face set and still showing signs of her anger from before.
Kit sighed and looked over her shoulder at her two girls, her best friends, the ones who were with her through it all and who probably knew her better than she knew herself. She stood and walked over, pulling them both into a tight hug.
“Let’s go drink our asses off, bitches,” she said. They both smiled.
As the night wore on, Kit conveniently forgot to turn on her cell phone and accidentally lost her engagement ring. On their way back to her place, for whatever reason, she thought it would be fun to stop at a hardware store and buy a set of locks.
