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Chapter 1
Julia had never pictured it like this.
Unlike Mason, she had never been married, and so the little girl with plaited hair, that lives in
every grown-up woman’s soul, in Julia’s distinctly demanded a beautiful white dress and a
reception where she could see all her friends and family, all happy for her and her beloved
one.
As far as Julia could see it, it was not destined to be so. Mason was sinking deeper and
deeper into his depression, and she asked herself how long it’d take him to dive into a bottle.
She loved this man and could sacrifice anything for him, not only her dream wedding.
However, she dared to order a white dress that would fit a pregnant bride. The bridegroom
most probably would not even notice, but that much she owed to the little girl with plaited hair.
*
She came from a fitting rather vexed. Her waist seemed to be growing daily, and her
dressmaker said she could not guarantee the dress would fit so well in a fortnight. To add to
this, earlier, when the working day was over, Mason asked her if she was going home and
she said she wasn’t, Julia did not like his mien. Was he relieved? Anyway, he was not in the
least curious as to where she was heading.
So, when Julia did come home, later that night, with her eternal fear that she might find
Mason drunk, she was worked-up. Mason was sober; he was reading a newspaper. Matt was
playing on the floor, wet from head to toe.
“Hi – Daddy,” Julia said with sarcasm, tearing the baby off his toys. Matt gave a whine.
Mason winced and put off his newspaper. “Hi.”
“Can’t you see the baby’s wet?”
“Oh.” He looked bored.
Julia controlled her impulse and never uttered another word till she changed Matt. Mason was
watching them, and it annoyed Julia.
“See, it’s easy,” she said in a challenging tone when she was done.
“Thank you.”
Mason still was looking at her in the same unpleasant way, as if asking himself what she was
doing there in his apartment and, more globally, in his life.
At this moment Julia suddenly felt fat, and awkward, and ugly. In her energetic manner, she
walked past Matt and sat down onto the couch next to Mason.
He changed his position so as to look at her – or so as to move further from her.
“What are you seeing?” she attacked him. “I’m not an exhibit you know. And it’s not too late to
call the whole thing off, if you’ve started having second thoughts.”
“Call what off?” Mason frowned. “The wedding? Why the idea?”
“Because I think you already regret your insistent proposals.”
“It’s not so, Julia.”
“I don’t – feel engaged! I don’t feel cherished; I think I don’t feel – noticed. Ah, my mistake; I
do feel very much noticed when you bore me with your eyes like this as if wondering what I
was doing here and who I was.”
“I need some air,” Mason said getting up.
Julia looked up, helpless. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily.
He nodded. “I am sorry. I know I am not good company, Julia. I’m—” he hesitated, but said
only, “sorry.”
He closed the door behind him softly. Julia bit her lip.
Julia had never pictured it like this.
Unlike Mason, she had never been married, and so the little girl with plaited hair, that lives in
every grown-up woman’s soul, in Julia’s distinctly demanded a beautiful white dress and a
reception where she could see all her friends and family, all happy for her and her beloved
one.
As far as Julia could see it, it was not destined to be so. Mason was sinking deeper and
deeper into his depression, and she asked herself how long it’d take him to dive into a bottle.
She loved this man and could sacrifice anything for him, not only her dream wedding.
However, she dared to order a white dress that would fit a pregnant bride. The bridegroom
most probably would not even notice, but that much she owed to the little girl with plaited hair.
*
She came from a fitting rather vexed. Her waist seemed to be growing daily, and her
dressmaker said she could not guarantee the dress would fit so well in a fortnight. To add to
this, earlier, when the working day was over, Mason asked her if she was going home and
she said she wasn’t, Julia did not like his mien. Was he relieved? Anyway, he was not in the
least curious as to where she was heading.
So, when Julia did come home, later that night, with her eternal fear that she might find
Mason drunk, she was worked-up. Mason was sober; he was reading a newspaper. Matt was
playing on the floor, wet from head to toe.
“Hi – Daddy,” Julia said with sarcasm, tearing the baby off his toys. Matt gave a whine.
Mason winced and put off his newspaper. “Hi.”
“Can’t you see the baby’s wet?”
“Oh.” He looked bored.
Julia controlled her impulse and never uttered another word till she changed Matt. Mason was
watching them, and it annoyed Julia.
“See, it’s easy,” she said in a challenging tone when she was done.
“Thank you.”
Mason still was looking at her in the same unpleasant way, as if asking himself what she was
doing there in his apartment and, more globally, in his life.
At this moment Julia suddenly felt fat, and awkward, and ugly. In her energetic manner, she
walked past Matt and sat down onto the couch next to Mason.
He changed his position so as to look at her – or so as to move further from her.
“What are you seeing?” she attacked him. “I’m not an exhibit you know. And it’s not too late to
call the whole thing off, if you’ve started having second thoughts.”
“Call what off?” Mason frowned. “The wedding? Why the idea?”
“Because I think you already regret your insistent proposals.”
“It’s not so, Julia.”
“I don’t – feel engaged! I don’t feel cherished; I think I don’t feel – noticed. Ah, my mistake; I
do feel very much noticed when you bore me with your eyes like this as if wondering what I
was doing here and who I was.”
“I need some air,” Mason said getting up.
Julia looked up, helpless. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily.
He nodded. “I am sorry. I know I am not good company, Julia. I’m—” he hesitated, but said
only, “sorry.”
He closed the door behind him softly. Julia bit her lip.
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