Edith painted her nails to match the flowers on her table. Even through the closed door, she could feel David sulking. She inhaled the sharp acetate odor of the polish as she worked; she concentrated on the soft falls of hair tumbled like blinders on either side of her(more) face. David didn't want her to go out. HE didn't want to go out, and so expected her to stay home too. He said the Yale was a pit. Her drinks would be poisoned. She would be busted by police. He said she would get followed and raped on the way home. Edith finally managed to look at him then, told him to his face: I just want to hear some fucking jazz. And that is when he had gone into his study and turned on the computer and now was waiting for her to come apologize, or check on him, or to say to hell with the Yale she would listen to Coltrane CDs with him and that would be just as good.
Edith puffed on her nails once, furiously, then stared at them as they dried, feeling his silence like something dark and crawling. He was old and he smelled. He kept himself clean but his neediness, it had a stink she had to leave to escape.
Every Friday Edith made a point of buying fresh flowers, the same way she made a point of going to the gym, and fussing with her nails. Keeping herself nice, maybe a bit over the top when compared to David with his sulky looks and heavy clothes. It was in anticipation of something that wasn't happening yet - she wanted to be ready to fit perfectly into a better life. It waited for her somewhere, in a friendlier dark.(less)
"over the top" is how you would describe it. But I thought it was rather cute actually. What would you know about it anyway? I told myself that it doesn't matter what you would say, and yet, somehow I always hear your voice, your opinion anyway. Why is that(more) I wonder?
You would say the fact that they had decided to invite 100 guests, that they had the service in a church, and hired a band to play the reception was over the top. You would think it pretentious of them to have small individual gifts, personalised at each place on the table. You would have laughed at her frilly white dress and the cravat that he wore. You never saw the point of all of that did you?
You would have sat beside me at the table looking bored during all of the speeches, and you would say that the best man was "tedious"
You would have given me a raised eyebrow when I asked you for a dance, and gone to the bar instead.
But later you would have held me, told me that we didn't need all of that. We didn't need to parade our love in front of people to prove that it was true. You would have laughed with me at the cute flowergirls dancing, up long past their bedtime. We would have walked hand-in-hand, slightly tipsy through the dark grounds, across the dew-soaked grass up to the main building to find our room.
And it would have been enough.
I used to think I wanted the dress, the flowers, the ceremony, the cake. A string quartet, you in a beautiful suit. Carrying me over the threshold.
Now I would give anything to talk to you, have you here, your warm hand in my own.(less)