The Chapel on the Hill

The chapel stood alone on the top of a small hill. Its beige sandstone was over one hundred years old and showed visible cracks in the mortar. Maria sat inside, arranging and rearranging her wedding veil. Her mother was at her side.

“That Paulie is one lucky fella.”

“He doesn’t like Paulie, Mother. I told you.”

“Oh yeah? Since when?”

“Since you met him eight years ago.”

“Huh. Well he’s still the luckiest sumbitch I know. Waltzing right into his daddy’s business the way he did. He’ll make a fortune one day, you watch.”

“Mother please.”

“You’ll never scrape by the way we did, is all I’m saying. Should we iron this dress again?”

“No Mother, it’s fine.”

“Why you should pick satin I’ll never understand. It’s so fussy.”

“It’s elegant, that’s why.”

“If it’s me I’m going for something simple. Comfortable. Like Paulie.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong. Comfort is great. Comfortable is reliable.”

“You make him sound like a sofa bed.”

“Neither here nor there. Good news is he’s local so after this little jaunt to the Godforsaken hill country you’ll come back home and settle near me and your daddy like a good girl.”

Maria began to scratch at her neck which was looking increasingly hiveish.

“What’s this?”

“It’s nothing, just a little itch.”

“Better get some ointment on that. Don’t wanna spook old Paulie.”

Maria stood up quickly and went to the window. The grounds below were busy with caterers, florists and guests arriving early for the wedding. She squinted at a tall, lean man pushing an enormous object up the hill on a small wooden trolley. Whatever it was stood ten feet tall. A long white sheet hid its contents. Maria’s sister, Caryn entered the room looking sweaty and nauseous.

“What the devil?” Exclaimed the mother.

“There’s something happening.” Caryn wore a satin eggplant gown, matching the other bridesmaids. The satin was already showing sweat rings under her arms. Maria frowned as she inspected the damage. Caryn, bent at the waist, struggled to catch her breath.

“Caryn! Why are you running around like a cavewoman in this dress? I told you to keep it clean for one hour! Is that too much to ask?” The hives on Maria’s neck started to grow and spread.

“What the hell is up with your neck?”

“None of your business! Now what’s happening outside? I saw a big…something on a trolley.”

“His name is Marcello. He’s quite beautiful and when I asked him what it was he wouldn't answer. But he said he made it for you.”

“If this sweaty person ruins my wedding day I’ll kill him!”

“I’ll handle it.” The mother sat in a chair with her feet up. She put her hands in the air in an effort to calm her daughters. Maria had too much experience watching her mother dissolve into a puddle of tears at the slightest obstacle and so she knew it was up to her. Why did she have to do absolutely everything? Maria flew out of the room and down the stairs, her veil whipping in the wind.

Marcello grunted with the effort of pushing the massive object over the threshold of the chapel. Maria rushed toward him, heels clicking against the stone floor.

“Excuse me! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ah my Maria. A little help?”

“A little help? No! I didn’t order this thing, whatever it is! And I’m not paying for it! You’ll have to take it back!”

Marcello gave another big push. The trolley threatened to snap in half as it squeaked its way across the threshold. The white sheet wafted in the wind, revealing ten gleaming toes carved out of white marble at the base of the statue. Maria studied the toes more closely.

“What is this thing?”

“It is you.”

“Pardon me?”

Marcello ran his hands through his dark, wavy hair and smiled at Maria. His deep brown eyes took her in. Maria inhaled a short, quick breath and held it. Her hand fell to her stomach. She willed the quickening to stop.

Paul, in a rumpled tuxedo, took in the scene from the top of the staircase. He rushed to Maria’s side.

“What’s all this?”

Without taking his eyes off Maria, Marcello dramatically yanked the white sheet, and in one fell swoop, exposed a brilliant white marble statue of Maria, naked in all her glory.

“OH!” Maria dropped her bouquet. Her hands flew to her face.

“Oh my God!” Paul stared up at the visage of his future wife, standing naked as the day she was born.

“From the first moment I saw you, I’ve loved you Maria. I tried everything to forget. I stayed drunk for weeks, I slept with any woman who would have me, but I have this hole in me, this void! And nothing fills it. I need you. I just need you. That’s all I need.” Marcello fell to his knees and clung to the hem of Maria’s dress. Her hand found the back of his head and cradled it the way a mother would a child’s.

By now a small crowd had gathered including Maria’s parents, sister and Paul’s best man, Benny.

“You sat in the back of my classroom.”

“Yes.”

“Every day for months.”

“Yes. Yes.”

“I always wondered why a guy like you would be interested in esthetician best practices.” Maria stroked his hair now.

“Maria! What the fuck?” Paul’s face was red with anger.

“Maria! Don’t you dare!” Maria’s mother pushed her way through the crowd to get to her daughter. She pushed Maria’s hand away violently from Marcello’s head. Marcello stood up and towered over the mother.

“I’ll ask you not to treat her that way mum. This woman knows her own mind.”

Maria beamed at Marcello in a way Paul had never seen her look at him before.

“I’m gonna kill this guy!” Paul lunged toward Marcello. Benny held him back.

“Please! This is not done by a memory friend. It is done only from fantasy.”

“THAT’S IT! YOU’RE DEAD!” Paul lunged again and this time, landed a punch across Marcello’s jaw. Marcello stumbled backwards but did not fall. He fingered his bleeding lip but still managed to smile at his beloved.

“Sweet Maria, I can’t offer you much. I’m an artist and a sculptor. I have two rooms just down the hill. At night we’ll listen to the river, and in the mornings we’ll listen to the birds.”

Maria took a step toward Marcello.

“Either way, I’ll love you forever. So please, tell me now. If you go away and break my heart at least I’ll know that you’re happy with…?”

Marcello raised his eyebrows in a question to Paul.

“Paul! My name is Paul, you sweaty pig! And yes, Maria is going to marry me!”

Paul’s gaze fell on Maria as a smile danced across her lips. She looked deeply into Marcello’s eyes. She walked to him. He took her hands in his.

“Oh my God! Baby! Baby?”

“Paul, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t ever call me baby.”