A Woman Scorched

Old Short Story—Based on a True Story.

Hell found me and it’s a good thing too. I'll take hell any day over what my wife would have done to me. She was only my wife for three hundred and eighty-two minutes, but in light of her response to my behavior during that long and painful time, hell will do just fine.

I think there needs to be an Eleventh Commandment: Thou shalt not get drunk on thy wedding day. Just saying. I was a really lucky guy, marrying a girl who was pretty and smart. I don't know how she ended up with me, but I wasn't about to question the girl who said, "Yes."

Tom, my thoughtfully picked best man, myself, and my three groomsmen decided to catch some waves about nine that morning, before we had to clean up and act nice. Tom brought a few magnums of champagne and we passed them around while we sat outside the break. Dolphins joined us for a few sets and the day was warm and perfect.

About halfway through the last bottle, Tom says, "Hey, Nate, how did you like the champagne?"

"I don't usually like champagne, but it was alright. Where did you get it?"

Pause. Long pause.

"Tom?"

"Oh, I - uh, I got it from the reception hall."

"That was wedding champagne? Tom, you ass, now Tracy's going to kill me before we even get married."

"All we have to do is get some more, don't get your knickers in a twist," Tom responded casually to my jibe.

The fact that we were currently drunk, on surfboards about fifty yards from shore, and the ceremony started in two hours seemed lost on Tom. Just get more. Sure, no problem. Make that Twelve Commandments: Thou shalt not pick a best man that is a moron.

We were loud and boisterous coming in on the last set, the grommets on the beach gave us a wide berth. "Old guys," their long boards, and a few empty magnum bottles were not the everyday sight around here. It could have been the listing-to-port as we walked that made the kids stare, but at the time, I thought they must think we were cool.

Showers and shaving occurred without drowning or deep lacerations, an absolute miracle in my mind. It took the five of us to realize that the earth was standing still and we were moving—a lot. We made some breakfast burritos and that made the sway a little less, but that champagne was powerful stuff and we were still drunk.

We all made it to the church during the photography of the girls, score one for not missing the ceremony entirely. I was having sincere appreciation for that whole tradition where the bride doesn't get to see the groom before the ceremony. I could delay her being angry with me for a little while. So far I hadn't done anything that could be considered improper and I vowed to myself that I wouldn't. Asking the bridesmaids to show me their garters didn't seem like a bad thing, but I started to get the idea that my perception was off.

Tom and the boys joined me at the altar and I was glad I didn't have to walk up the aisle. Just standing here would be easy. Tracy didn't even have to know. I couldn't breathe on her though. Right, holding my breath.

I was wondering if the breath holding was making me hallucinate when there she was, in a white, fluffy, girly dress that took up half the aisle, swallowing her dad's legs in folds of material. She looked at me, smiling from under her veil. I tried to hold her gaze, but my focusing ability was not what required my attention at that particular moment. I had to concentrate on standing still.

It seemed like it took forever, but she made it to my left side in time to push me deftly back to vertical from a seven degree tilt. We joined hands, and my idea that I would be able to fool Tracy was driven away by her freshly manicured nails digging in to my palm. She knew. I was a dead man.

I started giggling. You know how you can go for days and nothing makes you laugh, nothing strikes you as funny, but go to a funeral or church where you're not supposed to laugh and you get the giggles? Yeah, that kind of giggle; I couldn't stop. She could have stabbed those fingernails clear through my hand and nothing was going to make me stop.

The pastor droned on about what marriage meant and he asked me some silly questions. "Oh, yeah, sure," I replied to everything. It was really hot and the tuxedo I was wearing was tight at the neck. I just wanted him to talk faster so we could get outside for some fresh air.

"The ring?" the pastor said in my direction.

Oh great, now I have to try to put that little thing on her finger. I turned too quickly toward Tom and the swimming sensation sickened me. I picked up the ring from his palm and like an Olympian, gave my best effort to hitting the mark. Tracy was messing with me, moving her finger around. I caught a brief look at her face and she had skipped over horrified and gone straight to spitting mad.

The music started playing loudly and applause filled the air. Tracy grabbed my hand like she would our future three-year-old and pulled me down the aisle. I bumped a few of the flower bows off the ends of the pews and stopped to put them back where they belong. She didn't like that either, but she was just quietly fuming at me, still smiling at all the guests.

I thought I was free, close to the fresh air and sobering sunlight. Tracy yanked me to a halt in the foyer just inches from my goal. "Wait here!" she hissed in a tone I had no idea she was capable of producing.

She left briefly and came back with a glass of water. "Drink this!" she commanded in the same evil tone.

"Honey, one glass of water's not going to dilute a bottle of champagne," I tried to explain.

She withered me with a baleful stare.

The guests had been let go from their seats and as they filtered out, they came over to us to wish us well.

The first to reach us was the Mormon contingent from the Valley. Not that there's anything wrong with being either of those two things; but I wasn't, I was drunk and I could never understand what they said.

"Oh Tracy, you look so purty!" exclaimed Aunt Louise in her Central California drawl.

"Sorry that you came all this way for a big mess." Tracy wasn't holding it in any longer.

"Oh honey, that don't make me no never mind." Huh? A perfect example of why I couldn't understand them.

I mentally processed the words trying to figure out how many negatives added up to "It's OK", or if I was in deep with them too. My eyebrows were touching from thinking so hard. I got a cold, hard stare from Aunt Louise and that gave me the answer. My eyebrows went back to their proper positions over my red eyes and silly grin. Whatever.

The fancy dinner part didn't go much better. I was drinking wine now, too. I could feel Tracy glaring at me every time the food jumped off my fork and into my lap, so I just stopped looking at her.

Near the end of the evening, a cigar seemed like the perfect escape. I was lighting the end, getting ready to enjoy the taste and aroma, when Tracy leaned down to whisper something in my ear. Whoosh! Fire! Her veil was on fire! I turned around to my left and grabbed the container where the champagne bottles had recently been and threw the icy water at her in a brave attempt to save her life. She sucked all the air in the universe into her lungs when the twenty-degree water hit her face.

"Jesus, Mother of Pearl!" I heard from the back of the room. Must be one of the Mormons. Good grief, they can't even curse right.

A quiet second was followed by a clamoring, banging, yelling cacophony of shock and concern for my beautiful bride. My heart was squeezed tight by the realization of what I had done. The squeezing continued, and I couldn't breathe. The world swam before me and it darkened from the sides to a tunnel of light far in the distance.

I fell hard backwards, only no one noticed. They were attending to Tracy who was red-faced and wide-eyed, staring down at me lying splayed on the floor. When everyone realized that I wasn't moving, they simply stared, thinking I was merely unconscious from the stress and drink. Tracy was so mad that she thought it was the perfect solution. He better just die and take himself respectfully out of my life.

***

"So that's it. That's how I got here." The kid handing me his ticket had only asked what I had done that was so bad that it landed me here at Chez Lucifer. He was listening, waiting patiently for a deed worse than his so his status in this awful place would come up a tick or two.

"I don't get it," he said after a pause. "What was so bad that you ended up here?"

"Well, I chose an eternity of checking entry slips to the tarnished gates of hell over life with her. Let me tell you kid, hell hath no fury like a woman scorched."

Peace,

Jo