TOO LATE

Their sweet, bubbly voices blend into one high pitched, grating sound that numbs my mind. How could he do this to me? Someone fans my train again, and my knees threaten to buckle. What kind of man hurts the woman he loves? The heavy fabric of the dress feels like quicksand pulling me under. My mother gushes, “You make such a beautiful bride, Anna!”

“I need a minute,” I wheeze, but I’m certain no one hears me over their musings. Every tick of the old clock on the wall reminds me of another reason why this is a mistake. This isn’t right. The incessant ticking grows louder and my skin prickles from the heat as the air slowly seeps out of the room like a deflating balloon until it’s unbearably stuffy. No, no, no. The fitted bodice of my dress fights against me as I gasp for air and repeat, “I need a minute to myself.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” My mother asks. “It’s the wedding jitters, that’s all.”

“I need to–tell you something.” My words trail off as she talks over me.

“Anna, please don’t say you need to use the bathroom?” she chides. “You’ll never fit in there with all this satin and tulle!”

Sue, my overly aggressive wedding coordinator, pulls the small black microphone of her headset away from her mouth and replies, “There’s no time.”

“I need to go,” I demand.

“Well, that is the beauty of a two-piece dress. Aren’t you glad I suggested it?” Sue’s wide smile looks so forced she could splinter a tooth. I climb out of my billowing, stiff skirt that stands without any support. Sue wraps me in a silk robe and taps her watch. “You have 7 minutes!”

I run down the narrow hallway with my phone pressed into my clammy palm. The cramped old church bathroom smells of cleanser and old pot-pourri. I glance in the mirror and I want to vomit. Everything is a joke including me. The stained-glass window creaks open with a push, and a light summer breeze lifts my stiff curls and flutters my veil. The sunbaked jasmine climbing the stone wall gives off a heavy fragrance that chokes me. Resting my bottom on the wide ledge, I dangle a leg over the side in the cool air and text Adam: I ca—

“Anna?” a male voice asks. “Anna Montgomery?”

I stretch beyond the overgrown ivy to see the ground below. “Who’s there?”

“Zach Stevens. You probably don’t remember me. I dated Ellen, your roommate from college.” He is no more than an outline in the shadow of the alleyway, but the distinct way he carries himself and the deep timbre of his voice is undeniably Zach.

“Zach, of course!” A familiar pang of guilt for pining over him all those years ago washes over me. I never told anyone about my crush, but I’m certain Ellen sensed I had feelings for Zach. It put a strain on our friendship, and we lost touch soon after graduation. “What are you doing down there?” I ask.

“That’s my butcher shop. I was helping with a delivery. Are you alright?”

“I’m getting married today,” I answer and catch a tear with my knuckle. “I invited Ellen for the hell of it, but she didn’t respond. Do you still talk to her?”

He chuckles. “No, I haven’t spoken with Ellen since she broke up with me.”

“Funny, she was devastated. I assumed you had ended it.”

“I confessed something she didn’t like, and that was it.” He climbs the small embankment; his handsome face and charming smile come into view along with his bloody apron. It’s covered top to bottom in thick, wet, crimson splotches. I scrunch my face in disgust, and he shrugs sheepishly before quickly untying it, and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Gross.” I shake my head.

“Yeah, it is. All part of the job.” He sighs.

“What are you doing up there? Reminds me of the time, we were at a party off campus, and it got busted by the cops. You, me, Ellen and a couple others escaped out the back window. Do you remember that?”

“I do!” I answer, aching for the good old days when things were fun and I felt carefree. “That was wild. Ellen tore her dress and I twisted my ankle jumping. You gave me a piggyback ride. You were always so sweet, Zach.”

“You were my favorite out of all Ellen’s friends,” he says. “I miss those days.”

“Me too.”

“So, is that what you’re doing? Escaping?” he asks.

“I needed air.” I sniff and reach for another tissue from the box off the back of the toilet.

Bang! Bang! Bang! “Anna, you have two minutes!” Sue barks from behind the door. I clutch my chest and nearly lose my balance before gripping the window frame. The rotten wood crumbles in my hand and falls to the ground below.

Zach moves closer until he stands beneath me and asks, “Is everything ok?”

“Ok? No, nothing is ok. I overheard the groomsman last night at the rehearsal dinner. My fiancé, Adam, cheated on me at the bachelor party," I ramble. “Is there anything worse a man can do?”

“There’s plenty worse,” Zach answers dryly.

A muffled voice of one of my bridesmaids says, “Anna, hurry, you don’t want to keep your groom waiting.”

“Did you confront Adam?” Zach asks.

“Yes, at our first look photos. He said he was drunk, and it was a mistake. That bastard wants my forgiveness, but I can’t! I can’t get past it, and they’re waiting for me. There’s a church full of people and my parents spent a fortune. I’ll disappoint everyone but I can’t marry him. Is it too late?”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Anna, jump!” Zach shouts, holding his arms open. I rip the tiara and veil from my hair, toss them onto the tile floor, and leap into his arms. We run to his delivery van parked behind the bakery and speed down the road with the wind whipping back my hair.

I text Adam: I can’t forgive you.

I drop my phone into the cup holder and it rings. And it doesn’t stop ringing and alerting me. One message after another until Zach picks it up and asks with a cheeky grin, “Is this really what you want right now?”

“Nope,” I reply.

“Fuck them,” he grunts as he tosses the phone out the window. I gasp as it shatters into a million pieces in our dust.

“I’m free!” The tension in my body uncoils as I whoop loudly into the air. Zach laughs hysterically and I join in until my sides hurt.

When we reach the outskirts of town, my shoulders slump as I relax into the passenger seat that is warm from the sun; nothing has ever felt so comforting. “What did you confess to Ellen that was so unforgiveable that she broke up with you?” I ask.

He grins. “I’m a serial killer.”