Nemesis

by Cat Bruno

  “See here,” he said swiftly and with his pleasing accent, as he pointed toward the underside of my arm. “The gash is at least four inches and extends upward vertically. That is not the usual shape of a self-inflicted wound. Now, I’m not saying that you did not do this with intent, but the cut seems to be from glass and not from a knife or razor. The skin has pulled away, and it is not jagged or torn. Based on those two conditions, I don’t think this is self-harm.”

  Neither of us spoke as he placed the tip of a syringe against my wrist. My eyes closed as he shot me full of a numbing drug. Dr. Diakos did not exonerate William, I noticed.

  “Let that settle for a few minutes.”

  As we sat, I thought on what he had said about the wound.

  “I broke a frame,” I suddenly remembered and blurted out, after considering his words. “A picture frame. It was in the bottom of the closet, and I dropped something on it without knowing that it was there. When I reached back in to search for the camera, I scraped my arm against the jagged glass and crawled to the bathroom once I realized what happened.”

  “Ms. Jackman, if William did this to you, then you can tell me. That admission will remain sealed if that is your wish.”

  “Oh, no,” I objected more animatedly, “No, doctor, he was in the other room when it happened.”

  He accepted the answer, as if he had been obligated to ask, but would investigate no further. Both of us realized that it would not matter.

  “In a moment, I am going to suture you as tightly as I can. Please hold still. Do not move at all. When I am finished, I will have to wrap the wound in gauze and cover it with antibiotic cream. You will also need to take an oral antibiotic to prevent infection. In ten days, the sutures will need to be removed. At that time, I will reexamine your arm to see what else is necessary to minimize scarring.”

  His island-lilting words offered no solace despite their sounds of home.

  “What about the wedding? How long will the dressing need to stay on?”

  “For the next two days,” he answered quickly, suggesting that I had no room to bargain with him.

  Out of everything that had occurred over the last few hours, why did that answer make me cry? How would I walk down the aisle? How would I pose for photographs? How would I hold my flowers? Everyone in attendance would draw the same conclusion that William had. The orphan bride hours away from marrying into a family with money had tried to off herself. If only the Titan goddess Dione could mend my wrist like she once did for her daughter Aphrodite.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled to Dr. Diakos as I evened out my breathing and dried off my face with a tissue he held out.

  Once I had calmed down, he asked, “Is your dress long-sleeved?”

  “No.”

  A few moments later, I asked, “What about gloves? The long, satin kind? Would I be able to wear those on top of the bandages?”

  My question burned with fever and mania, even to my own ears.

  “I see no problem with that,” the doctor agreed quite easily. “Let me finish up here. I’m sure you have a lot to do before the ceremony.”

  For the next five minutes, he stitched up my arm while I stared at the door, unable to watch his curved needle penetrate my skin. To my surprise, it did not take long for him to close the gaping gash, and I felt nothing except an occasional pulling sensation. When he finished, a four-inch, criss-cross of black stitches covered me from the base of my hand to the middle of my forearm. As he wrapped the area in cotton pads and gauze, he told me that I had lost a great deal of blood and should eat some kind of red meat and leafy greens as soon as possible. He suggested going to the hospital for a blood transfusion if I felt weak or disoriented, but I think he knew that William would never allow that as he made the remark in hurried order.

  Did he recognize me? The elder doctor, Greek in appearance and sound, was close to knowing the truth of my identity, but far off in his conclusions that William was responsible for my injuries. Physicians are trained to spot abuse, and even plastic surgeons, the healers of vanity, recall that training. Twice I had gone to their office in need of repair, like a broken statue that must be delicately, expertly glued back together. His assessment was not so unnatural, yet I tried to convince him it was untrue. Nothing good would come of the doctors thinking of me as a victim or suicidal.

  As I sat on his examination table, Dr. Diakos rose and opened the door, calling William to reenter.

  “She has fifteen sutures from her wrist upwards,” I heard the doctor explain. “Upon examination, I concluded that the gash was accidental, and Dandelion remembers breaking a picture frame while she was looking for something. That makes sense, as the wound appeared to have been sliced by glass. I’ve told her that she must return in ten days to get the sutures removed. At that time, I will decide if further care is needed. I see no reason why the two of you can’t be married this evening, although I would advise that Dandelion drink alcohol sparingly.”

  Caring little if I heard, William asked, “You do not believe she did this to herself?”

  “It is possible, of course, but I don’t think it’s likely.”

  Did William believe him? Probably not. As we drove back toward Columbus, he said nothing to me. When I asked to borrow his phone, he unlocked it and handed it to me without comment. I hurriedly called Toby and told him what happened, mostly because we needed to find silk gloves within the hour. By then, I had been nearly two hours late for my hair appointment and begged him to call the salon as well.

  “Let’s all meet at the Inn as soon as possible. I have to stop back at the house, but then I will race there.”

  William listened to the exchange without complaint or amendment. He did not speak until he discovered the mess in the bedroom. There, on the floor near the closet, was a foot-long frame, its glass shattered and covered in blood. I watched as he examined a pair of jeans that also were splattered with my blood and retraced smeared droplets on the floor leading to the bathroom. The evidence seemingly matched my story.

  He returned to where I stood in the bedroom and said, “I will marry you, Dandelion, because I have no other choice right now. But I will never forget what happened here today.”

  Did he threaten me? In some way, unspoken and painted over with vague words, he did. Looking back, I realize that many women in my place might have been afraid, and some would have canceled the wedding out of anger or distrust. I was neither mad, nor scared. Don’t get me wrong; there is a long and literal history of the gods’ anger and the repercussions of that anger. But that anger is not one that I share. When I was born, it was to be the keeper of the scales and a fair and just arbiter. Have I forgotten the rules at times? Certainly. But I recalled my duties in the moments following his declaration. If I had not, I’m uncertain what would have occurred on my wedding day.

  Maybe Dandelion would have begged. She might have lied and pleaded and promised to be the wife he desired.

  Nemesis had no time for such mortal games.

  “Marry me or not, William. Decide now.”

  As if I did not care about his answer, I stripped the blood-covered shirt off and walked to the kitchen to discard it. There, on the counter, was the knife that, hours before, had beckoned and blinked like a star sign. Now, I ignored its call. William’s time would come. The Horae would tell me when.

  For safe measure, I unzipped my jeans and replaced them with another pair, ones that I had had for years. Among a group of shopping bags stacked in the corner of the room, I retrieved a newly purchased blouse. It was light and loose-fitting, a creamy, peasant-style tunic that had regained popularity. The sleeves were long and hung atop my bandaged arm, covering it enough that I did not fear my injury would be detected. While I slipped on low-heeled shoes, William left. Where he went, I had no idea. If he would show up later at the Inn, I had no idea. Would we be married that evening? I no longer cared. Justice would come, with or without a wedding band on my finger.

  When I got to my car, I called Tob
y.

  “Dandelion, what in the world is going on?” he screamed into the phone.

  “There was an accident. I had to get some stitches in my arm, but I’m on my way to the Inn now.”

  “Is this some sort of wedding day dark humor?”

  The volume of his voice decreased, but not that of his concern.

  “Toby, it was a careless accident. William drove me to a plastic surgeon, a friend of his. It will heal, but, for now, it’s covered in bandages. Did you find any gloves?”

  “Just meet me at that big bridal shop near the airport. I’m a few minutes away.”

  When I arrived, Toby jumped out of his car with his hand over his mouth and his eyes wide with horror.

  “What the hell happened?” more quietly, he added, “You can tell me.”

  He, too, thought William was responsible. This time, I let him believe it.

  “Can I enjoy the day? I’ll tell you all about it another time. Right now, I need to find some gloves and get my hair done.”

  For a long moment, I thought he would pry more. Yet he only lifted my sleeve gently before sliding it back down.

  “To be safe, we should get the elbow length ones.”

  “I can’t let anyone here know why I need them,” I reminded him as we neared the doors.

  “At least it’s your right arm,” he dryly teased in an attempt to get back to normal.

  We decided on the thickest, most expensive pair, and while both Toby and I realized how odd the gloves might look with the dress, we had no choice. Embroidered flowers, ones I did not recognize, swirled from the middle of the glove to the fingers. Both of us had rolled our eyes at that feature.

  “No one will notice the pattern in the pictures,” Toby promised unconvincingly. “Raul should be at the Inn. We need to hurry.”

  I said little as Raul spent the next hour combing and curling my hair except to decline to wear the glittery cape in place of my shirt. Toby came and went, running nearly every time I saw him. Twice I nearly stopped him to tell him that William might not even show up, but with Raul behind me, I did not feel comfortable admitting such an ugly truth. Instead, I kept pretending, as I had done for much of the last year.

  “Have you seen her tiara? It’s the sweetest little thing,” Raul purred, as Toby checked in once my hair was nearly finished.

  “Yes, the whole theme is a very elegant, goddess-like one. Have you seen the hall?”

  While the two men chatted, I quietly listened, uncertain what the next hours would bring. Would William change his mind and decide that his campaign could survive a broken engagement? Or would he abandon his plans to run for state office, despite his recent announcement? By then, I no longer knew him. We were as distant on the day of our wedding as we had been on that first date. Worse, if I am being honest. He hated me, and I suppose I hated him, too.

  What a terrible thought to hold on your wedding day.

  However, I smiled when Raul handed me a silver-trimmed mirror so that I could see his work. The style was nearly identical to the one he had done before, and even Toby approved.

  “Have you ever thought of dying your hair dark?” Raul asked as he started to pack up his tools. “A deep chocolate would look stunning on you.”

  “One day, I hope to. I’m not a natural blonde,” I laughed.

  “Of course you’re not, dear.”

  “Are you coming back for the ceremony?”

  “Is that an invitation?” he said with his neck tilted dramatically.

  “Please do! I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before; I guess I just thought it was understood.”

  While I had been busy with Raul, my bridesmaids had arrived, peeking in and admiring my hair. William’s cousins had already had their hair done, but Alexis had not, and I asked Raul if he could do hers as well, which he quickly agreed to.

  “I need coffee, like right now,” my moaning voice complained to Toby.

  As we walked toward the dining area, he said, “You need some wine.”

  “The doctor said I shouldn’t drink.”

  “Dandelion, you need some wine.”

  Unsurprisingly, we backtracked toward the bar in the reception hall. Toby poured us each a large and nearly overflowing glass.

  Halfway through, I admitted that I was unsure if William would come.

  “Here’s what we are going to do. We’re not going to talk about that. We’re not going to think about it, either. We are going to drink as much wine as we like and celebrate how amazing this place looks. In a few hours, you’re going to get into your dress, and we’re going to celebrate that by drinking even more wine. That’s it, Dandelion, that is the whole of it. I refuse to hear anything on the contrary.”

  How I loved that man; if only I could have been marrying him.

  “Let’s bring a few bottles back to the other girls,” he wisely stated.

  We all got drunk. What else could I do? Cry? Worry? Call and text William? Nearly everything was falling apart. Hours before, the death god Thanatos had been sent to collect me. As the day progressed, I realized that I had been punished once again for my failure to perform the duties of my job. This time, death had been close. My brother, bearded and aged, whispered into my ear as his wings fluttered a cold rush of air onto my lips. He did not want to take me and offered a warning instead.

  Next time, they will send the Keres.

  The thought that the blood-thirsty sisters would come for me next caused me to tremble. I am not so fearless, my friends. This would be my last chance.

  Before I started getting dressed, Toby insisted that I eat something. Neither of us talked about William not having arrived. A tray of specialty cheeses, oddly shaped crackers and bread, and an assortment of fruit arrived, and we all ate until we felt a bit more sober. As I chewed, I forced the images of the Keres death spirits from my mind.

  It was 5:15 pm, and the cocktail hour would begin soon. Toby helped me into my dress once the bridesmaids left to get ready themselves. Before any of them could return, I hurriedly put the gloves on and shrugged toward Toby.

  “I’ll be honest, Dandelion, it’s not as bad as I thought. You can make it work.”

  “Can you see the bandages?”

  After twisting my arm (gently) and examining me from all angles and distances, he concluded that he could not.

  “You’re fine. To be honest, I kind of like it.”

  Maybe he lied, but nothing could be fixed with so little time before the ceremony was to begin.

  The feathered cape hung on the rack to my right.

  “You do look beautiful,” he sighed. “One more drink.”

  “Do not pick it up and only sip it through the straw,” he warned as he set the white wine beside me.

  William arrived soon after that glass was finished. I only know because Toby excused himself with an obvious lie to search for him. I was working on my makeup when he returned. Alexis, Alison, and Tessa had joined me, which Toby noticed straight away.

  “Your husband to be looks dashing, Dandelion,” he hummed encouragingly in coded words that he knew I would understand.

  That’s when I knew that the gods still watched.

  What should I say of the ceremony itself? Only three of us recognized it for the façade that it was. The others, nearly 500 of them, stared at me with awe-filled eyes as I floated down the aisle. Across my shoulders, the cape’s feathers tickled me, but they were as soft as down, as if Zeus had mistaken me for Leda and visited me as the swan. It would not be the only time that Leda and my fate would intertwine and collide.

  You all must be wondering how William reacted when he saw me. More handsome than ever, he stood beside his brother and smiled as I approached. The mask did not slip. In fact, he wore it now better than ever before.

  We were married by a pastor – a longtime family friend – and recited vows that we had written ourselves. Lies, mostly, promising to love and support each other, but in fancier words. When it was time to exchange the rings, William delicately
removed one of the gloves and slipped the band across my finger. I expected it to burn or ache as if the metal had been fire-forged, but it was an uneventful encounter. Maybe his finger seared with pain when I placed the platinum ring on it, but he never admitted that to me. More, his mask did not crack, and his face did not wince. William played this final role of his life with a mastery that impressed me. It was always he who was the star.

  The kiss was not unusually long or particularly passionate. Years before, I read a book detailing a poisoned kiss. That I considered doing something similar will not surprise you. But I could find none of the necessary ingredients. As much as I have played the role of a spy, I am no James Bond with an arsenal of hidden weapons and toxins readily available for my use.

  Just imagine how exquisite it would have been if he had died right beside the celestial altar that Toby had built? Golden rays of starlight twinkling around his body while I cried at his side. Just lovely and a scene the gods would have celebrated.

  But not very realistic, I’m afraid.

  For the rest of the night, we danced when we were supposed to, and we ate when the meal was placed in front of us. We smiled and hugged and thanked each person who approached us. We listened as William’s brother Jason toasted us, and we laughed when his words turned dirty. And we drank. Enough to keep us numb as the masks pressed into our skin, scarring us with the mistakes that we had made.

  I thought I would be happier. That marrying William would give me some sense of success after all those months I had spent planning. A mortal flaw, I realize now. Nemesis cared little for such emotion.

  With apologies, but I just cannot write much more about the wedding. That day was the worst of it, an evening of deceit and a prelude of what was to come. We made love that night, not that it matters. But that is how far the game extended; that is how committed we both were to winning. The next morning, we took a taxi to the airport without donning our masks since it no longer mattered.

  Along the Pacific Coast Highway

  It was not until the third day of our trip that we finally left Los Angeles, and the true honeymoon began. For those first few days, I tagged along with William as he met with potential donors, all of them millionaires. Some owned businesses, some worked in the film or television industry, some names you might recognize, some you might like or dislike. They were all quite polite and very fun, and if they noticed the bandages beneath my long sleeved shirts and dresses, they said nothing. You will not find a place with more masks being worn than in Hollywood, I learned quickly.