My Wedding Night

My Wedding Night

         Clouds threatened to rain out our backyard wedding. The rented tent in the yard, encompassing all but one foot off the back bedroom, relieved the worry. We succeed in pulling off a beautiful wedding and reception on our meager budget.

         The three daughter's ten, eleven and twelve, all made officially sisters in their elegant homemade gowns, changed into jeans and tops and alternated playing Super Mario Brothers on the TV inside while we tiredly put what food was left away. Everything else could just wait. Our honeymoon would as well, for now our tent shielded bedroom sufficed. Time for everyone to go to bed.

         Minutes later, enveloped in love, lost in the joy of expressing it, I hear the snap of a branch. I glance toward the bush covered window and see three familiar faces pressed wide eyed against the transparent glass.

         I lie face down, naked as the day I was born. Unable to move, paralyzed, the sheets still lay in a heap on the floor. My face burning brighter than the night stand lamp. My body shocked numb, ears ringing with fire. My mind reeling. My throat constricted, my heart pounding. The hopelessness of any future dignity suffocates me. I am forever ruined.

         I turn slightly to face my new wife looking for a lover's comfort. Her barely held laughter coming in semi-restrained sputters. I am utterly alone, castaway, adrift and drowning in my humiliation, despair, and awkwardness. The failure to shield the virtuousness of my young daughters as their High Lord, hero, and loving protectorate, crushes me into the very dust of that accursed window's sill. How can I ever face my daughters again? I bury my face in the pillow wanting to die.

Word count: 287