by Gina Messina
Charlie hadn’t noticed that she was wearing them until her doctor looked down at her feet. How ironic, she thought. Dr. Harrison’s sure to read into this. What a cryptic message. With all the hundreds of shoes Charlie had to choose from, the odds of her putting on a pair of Louboutin’s that morning were one in four hundred and forty-nine. Surely it had been an omen.
“You mean because of David?” she asked bluntly. There was no sense beating around the bush. That was the God damn problem with these doctors and Dr. Harrison was no different. They always liked to dance around the obvious as if they were at a party no one else had been invited to.
“Well, it does seem like maybe this wasn’t the best place to start your married life, in-hindsight,” Dr. Harrison suggested. Charlie laughed again. How rich. Of course her psychiatrist had the benefit of hindsight. It was easy to sit in a cozy chair in a spacious office and judge your patient’s for their life choices. But where the fuck had she been when Sean picked out the venue?
Charlie shrugged. “Sean wanted the best and the Metropolitan was it.” Perfect venue equals perfect life. “I didn’t even think about David until I was sitting with my back to that same window and experiencing the first debilitating anxiety attack of my life.”
“I can’t breathe,” she had said in a panic to her sister Carrie, who, as her maid of honor, sat to Charlie’s right.
“What’s wrong, Charlie?” Carrie asked, concern etched across her face and highlighted by the darker than usual eye shadow she wore.
Charlie grabbed her sister’s arm tightly and gasped, “Just get me the fuck out of here.”
She remembered how Carrie lifted her up by the hand, wrapped her arm around her shoulder and took hold of her arm, then led her from the dining room and down the long corridor toward the ladies’ lounge. It had felt like the longest walk of her life. Charlie plunked down on the velvet settee and placed her head in-between her legs, her cheek brushing up against the expensive fabric of her dress and leaving traces of makeup on the hand-made lace. She knew it would cost a small fortune to dry-clean the stains away but she didn’t care, then seriously considered the possibility that she was dying.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Charlie cried out to her sister in sheer panic. “I think I need to go to a hospital! I think I need an oxygen tank!” She slowly sank to her feet, lying on the cold rose marble floor of the bathroom with the many layers of lace splayed around her like an angry storm cloud. Charlie tried desperately to calm herself down but found it difficult because she quite literally had forgotten how to breathe.
“Here. Breathe into this,” Carrie ordered, quickly thrusting a small white paper bag that was meant to be used for the disposal of used feminine hygiene products, into her bluish face.
“Oh my god! Is that a rag bag? Do you want me to throw up too? It’s bad enough I can’t breathe!” she protested, pushing Carrie’s hand away.
“Relax, Charlie. It hasn’t been used. You’re not having a heart attack, you’re just hyperventilating,” Carrie then clasped Charlie’s clammy hand into hers and held onto it tightly until her breathing returned to normal again.
After thirty minutes passed, Charlie finally stood up, her mouth still latched onto the edges of the sanitary bag. Though her legs felt strangely like rubber bands, expanding and retracting, she managed to carefully smooth out her dress with the flat of her palm and adjust her pillbox hat, which by that time was slanting precariously over her left eye. With Carrie’s help, she powdered her ashen face and added a smear of peach lipstick to her faintly blue lips.
“It m-must be t-t-the excitement,” she stuttered with a nervous tic.
“Are you ready to go back?” Carrie asked, reaching for her sister’s hand. Charlie nodded without saying another word and let her sister lead her back to the reception area. She was certain Sean would be wondering where she had disappeared to. After all, a missing bride did not fit into the narrative of a perfect wedding.
As Charlie feared, Sean was waiting for her with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest in the ridiculous Irish kilt he’d insisted on wearing. He leaned into her with a wide smile on his face and an adoring look in his eye. To their guests, they must have appeared like the happiest couple on earth.
“Where the hell did you disappear to, Charlotte?” he angrily barked into her ear. Before she could answer, he took her by the elbow in a very proprietary way and led her onto the empty dance floor. “Everyone’s been waiting patiently for our first dance.”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” she whimpered back, feeling her legs go numb again and her breathing shallow.
His grip tightened around her waist and he pulled her in closer before hissing, “Well, pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake.” Then he donned a fake smile and laughed as if she’d just told him something endearing or humorous and nodded to their guests and the band, giving them a silent signal to start playing their wedding song. “You’re my wife now. Mrs. Sean Murphy.” He dipped her down low over his knee. Charlie recognized the all too familiar flash of anger in his eyes before he ordered, “Start acting like it, Charlotte.”
Charlie lifted her chin defiantly. Tiny droplets of sweat started to slide down her back. She hoped that they weren’t noticeable under the photographer’s lights that were meant to perfectly capture their first dance as husband and wife. Then she looked Sean squarely in the eye and took a deep breath to steady her nerves, feeling unhinged and angry. “I am your wife now, and you’re my husband, so don’t you think it’s time that you grew up and put an end to all of your extracurricular activities?” she blurted out while bracing herself for his reaction. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen, she considered before she experienced an overwhelming feeling of regret. Sean’s going to make me pay for my outburst.
Within seconds he released her so abruptly, she nearly tumbled onto the floor. As she was catching her footing, he sauntered off in the direction of one of her bridesmaids, Lucy, who happened to be standing on the edge of the dance floor with a few of Charlies old school mates. They were gathered in a circle, watching the happy couple’s first dance. Before Charlie could react, Sean had Lucy out on the dance floor with his arms draped casually around her waist. Lucy’s eyes were wide with surprise and her lips were upturned into a tiny smile. She was obviously enjoying the attention. Every head in the room swiveled toward Charlie, trying to gage her reaction. She blinked away the humiliation she was feeling and scanned the room. She could see her parents watching from their table across the parquet floor. Her mother, who looked like she’d aged five years in just a few minutes, was nervously wringing her hands, while her father put one arm around her shoulders and patted her back in a gesture of comfort. The whole room was silent except for the sound of Louis Armstrong’s velvety voice singing, ‘…and I think to myself, what a wonderful world.’ Charlie remained rooted in place, thinking to herself, …what a conniving bitch and paralyzed by the humiliating series of events that were unfolding before her very eyes.
Sean, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to her mortification as he twirled Lucy around, his emotionless face speaking volumes. Charlie’s face, however, more than made up for his lack of emotion. She stood frozen in the background with her face registering the pain of someone who was having their heart broken into a million tiny pieces. Charlie wanted desperately to walk up to Lucy, pull her off Sean and drag her off the dance floor by her hair. I should have known better than to ask someone from bum fuck Kentucky and whose reputation is as loose as her vagina, to be one of my bridesmaids. Lucy was easier to get into than a restaurant that didn’t need reservations.
They had met in a photography elective during Charlie’s Sophomore year at college. She had spotted Lucy sitting alone at one of the lab tables and had felt sorry for her, so she went and took a seat beside her. Lucy had a killer body but wasn’t much to look at in the face department and to add insult to injury, when she opened her mouth to say hi, she so
unded like a hick. Charlie couldn’t believe it when she told her she was a Fashion Merchandizing major with a minor in Window Display. Lucy was bar none, the worst dresser she’d ever encountered. It just didn’t seem like a good fit at all. Regardless, they became good friends, anyway. Charlie always liked a challenge and right then and there she decided she was going to turn that ugly duckling into a swan. She figured that with a body like Lucy had and with the right clothes and shoes, it would be easy to divert attention away from her face and to her tiny waist and long legs.
They would go shopping together and Charlie would help her pick out short skirts and high heels then they would head back to Lucy’s apartment where they would watch YouTube make-up tutorials all afternoon. Charlie just knew that with the right highlighting and contouring, she could make Lucy’s wide nose appear narrower and her nonexistent cheekbones, higher. It had taken almost two years but had ultimately been a great success! Lucy turned into a very stylish girl and even landed a job at Macy’s doing window’s when they graduated. The only problem was that when she opened her mouth, she still sounded like the hick that she was. Try as she did, Charlie soon realized that just because you take the girl out of Kentucky doesn’t mean you can take the Kentucky out of the girl. And the scene that was unfolding in front of her eye’s only drove that point home.
But Charlie didn’t dare cause a scene. She didn’t want to embarrass her mother and father any further by starting a catfight in the middle of her wedding reception. So she just stood there watching Sean as he danced by her with Lucy in his arms. Lucy appeared triumphant, as if she’d just won some sort of competition.
It had amazed Charlie that she didn’t break out into cartwheels or waltz up to her, rip her veil off and place it on her very own head. Does she want my bouquet too? Is she going to ask to cut the cake? Charlie had wondered. She might as well have, though, since she was the one acting like the bride and dancing the “first dance” while Charlie watched like a guest. She could just make out her best friend Janie who was standing behind her and shamefully muttering to one of the other guests, “I just feel so fucking responsible.”
Charlie gasped for air for the second time that night. She watched the horridly embarrassing scene which left her feeling more than slightly off-balance. She could see Carrie on the other side of the dancefloor with her two hands covering her mouth and Stacey, who was wearing a very slutty dress, doing a double take and then flipping her hair over her shoulder and knocking back her fifth shot of the night.
“The pain I felt on that night was exquisite,” she told Dr. Harrison.
“Wait!” Dr. Harrison exclaimed, “Do you mean to tell me that you knew Sean was unfaithful before you got married?”
For a doctor with so many initials after her name, she’s sure as dumb as a door knob. Can she possibly be that naive?
“Of course I knew!” she exclaimed as if it was as obvious as the nose job on her very own face.
When she’d finished telling the humiliating account of her wedding night, Charlie was sure she spotted a hint of pity mixed with a tiny trace of revulsion cross Dr. Harrison’s face. For the second time since she’d been under her care, she felt the urge to slap her hard across her face, hoping to leave a bright red mark on her cheek. I don’t need her feeling sorry for me! No one needs to feel sorry for me. In fact, it’s I who feels sorry for her. Anyone who spends their day listening to other people’s pathetic problems is the real loser!
“Why would you marry someone who’d been unfaithful to you?”
“Because I believed he would stop once we were married,” she reasoned, peering down at her finger that was now devoid of a wedding ring and calling to mind the night Sean had asked her to be his wife.
It had been the first Saturday after her college graduation. They were having dinner at One if by Land, Two if by Sea, which was unquestionably, the most romantic restaurant in the city and especially renowned for the thousands of proposals that had taken place there over the years. They had just finished their Beef Wellington—the signature dish the restaurant was famous for—when Sean reached over the table and took her hand in his. Charlie prepared herself, hoping to savor every minute as he looked into her eyes and proposed.
“Charlotte, when I follow my heart, it leads directly to you.”
When she heard what he said, she was sure he had plagiarized that line from somewhere. She just couldn’t place where she’d heard it before; and truth be told, she couldn’t care less. He could have recited names from a phone book and Charlie still would have thought it to be the most romantic gesture in the world. Her heart was beating so rapidly, she felt as if she were on the verge of a splendid heart attack. With great fanfare, he then dropped down on one knee and pulled a ring out of his jacket pocket. It was a two carat yellow canary diamond that shone so brilliantly it seemed to draw in all the light from the room while reflecting little colorful prisms that shot up onto the coffered ceiling.
She was mesmerized by it, (although she did feel that it was a tad on the small side), but nevertheless, she immediately sang out, “Yes! Yes, I do!” She looked down at him with her mouth wide open in wonder and extended her hand for him to put the diamond ring on her finger. It fit perfectly! Of course, it had been perfect since Sean had picked it out. She inspected it from all angles and admired the way that it sparkled.
“I love you so much,” he said, just loud enough for the other diners to hear. Charlie could make out the joyous murmurs from the strangers around her. It was almost as if he had rehearsed the entire night and it was certainly a performance worthy of Sean.
The whole restaurant stood up and clapped while Charlie sat there and beamed from ear to ear. Sean got up off his knee and took a theatrical bow, relishing the attention. Later, after they finished sharing a chocolate soufflé and the check came, he left an overly generous tip which was so very typical of him. Charlie found out about his first infidelity one week later.
“I was positive he would stop,” she pathetically whimpered. As she heard herself speaking, she started to grow angry. When did I become that kind of woman? When did I let myself become the victim?
“How many women were there?” Dr. Harrison asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Too many to count. But only one that really mattered,” she quickly responded, then paused, while she contemplated Lily Love.
Another fucking fucked-up name, which just annoyed her even more. What parent decides to give their daughter a name worthy of a porn star! Charlie was sure Lily had a bright future ahead of her sucking men off in front of a camera. Lily Love with the 38DD bust and the XXX last name. She could virtually see the words Lily Love Does Los Angeles displayed on a 42nd street marquee in red gassy neon lights. It made her uncomfortable thinking about it—more uncomfortable than the pinching waist band of the too tight Jil Sander slacks she was wearing at that moment.
Thank God Lily had the good sense to dodge that bullet! Charlie gratefully and enviously contemplated to herself. Because, why hadn’t she had the same good sense to dodge it herself?
“Who would have thought, Dr. Harrison? A porn star with a conscious. Epic.”
Lily had been the only real threat from the plethora of women Sean tirelessly had, that is until Lizbeth had surfaced. Charlie knew Lily enraptured him when she heard him talking dirty to her on his cell phone from the bathroom late one Sunday night.
“What’s my little Gypsy wearing right now?” he kept asking her with the ‘I’m the most desirable man alive’ voice he only used when he wanted to impress attractive women.
When she’d put her ear to the door and listened to the muffled panting and the stilted groans that she was so familiar with, she was confident that he was beating himself off. Most likely into one of her $300.00 monogrammed Scalamandre hand towels (a wedding gift from her Aunt Ginger) while Lily undoubtedly described how she was taking off the erotic lingerie he had bought for her earlier that same month. The poor housekeeper! Charlie was certain that hand
washing come from linen hand towels was not part of her job description and certainly not what Izzy had bargained for. If Sean couldn’t control himself or at the very least, use the machine washable terry cloth towels, another raise would soon be inevitable!
Just a few weeks earlier, Charlie had found a receipt from La Perla in the pocket of Sean’s overcoat when she dropped it off at the dry cleaners. According to the receipt, he’d spent a small fortune at the high-end lingerie store and clearly not for her since 38DD was displayed on the itemized register next to each bra’s description and Charlie wore a 36C. Those must be some really ginormous tits; she mulled over to herself when she handed his overcoat to the little Chinese man who took care of their dry cleaning. The next morning when she asked Sean about it, he feigned ignorance, going as far as to call her a raging loon.
“You’re insanely pathetic, Charlotte,” he mumbled while chewing nervously on his bottom lip.
“Why? Because I don’t have 38DD knockers like your girlfriend!” she exclaimed, slamming her hand with the receipt on the table. “Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he said, “You find one little piece of paper and suddenly you’re fucking Sherlock Holmes.”
Before Charlie could say another word, Sean started to berate her for her stupidity, never once explaining how the receipt wound up in his pocket. He then shook his head and walked back into their apartment leaving her sitting on the terrace with their adorable new puppy, Coco, another guilt gift from him.
Charlie got up to follow him, thinking This isn’t over yet! But right when she grabbed for the terrace door she felt something squishy underfoot. She looked down to see that she’d stepped into a pile of dog crap and to add insult to injury, she was wearing her favorite Weitzman’s. Just fucking great! Lily gets expensive lingerie and all I get is dog shit!
After Sean left for work that morning, Charlie actually called that slut Lily Love. It had been so easy to find her personal information when she looked her up on the internet. Lily’s social media pages were filled with pictures of both her ass and her glorious breasts. She’d even posted a selfie of herself wearing the lingerie Sean had bought for her. The first word that came to mind when Charlie saw Lily’s Facebook profile and photographs was Juicy. Juicy! It made her sick to think about Sean and all that wetness he was surely slurping up.
