In spite of the fact that Emily’s stepmother has taken the bridal dress that Emily’s late mother had left for her, Emily is adamant about keeping it. In response to the fact that she was betrayed by the one person who ought to have stood by her, she comes up with a strategy that will certain that Sabrina receives exactly what she is due. After all, there are some things that no one should ever take.
We lost my mother when I was thirteen years old.
It was not intended for things to turn out that way. One moment, she was in the kitchen, singing while rolling out dough for blueberry pie. Her voice drifted into the living room as she teased me about my loosened shoelaces. She was in the kitchen. The following instant, she had vanished.
There is no prior notice. No much of a farewell. To put it simply, it was an intolerable absence that struck me like a sucker punch, and I never got over it.
In the past, she had been my closest companion and my refuge. One thing that she left behind for me was her wedding dress, which has since become one of my most prized possessions.
I am still able to recall the day when she presented it to me. As she carefully unzipped the garment bag, her fingers lightly brushed over the delicate lace, as if she were touching a piece of her own heart. She had done it with a sense of reverence.
Then, as she gently placed it in my hands, she whispered, “For my beautiful girl, so that a part of me will always be with you on the day of your wedding.”
At the age of thirteen, entering into a marriage seemed like a lifetime away, but I was aware of the significance of the gift. I kept it zipped up in its protective bag, concealed at the back of my closet, and unopened for as long as I could remember. The outfit was more than just a garment; it was a promise.
After that, my father came into contact with her.
To Sabrina.
When Sabrina entered our life, she did it with a charisma that was almost pushy. A smile that was too big, a laugh that was too loud, and an amazing capacity to insinuate herself into conversations that were not intended for her were all characteristics that she possessed. Her statements on how I “needed a strong female role model” and how “a girl can’t grow up without a mother’s touch” began to surface within a matter of weeks.
My tongue was clenched. I wished for my father to be content. I knew that after Mom passed away, Dad would have been so lonely, and I knew that she would have wanted him to find love once more. However, Sabrina’s goal was not only to become my father’s companion; rather, she desired to take the place of my mother.
Once she moved in, everything began to shift in a different direction. She redecorated the living room, repackaged the framed photographs of her mother, and tucked away the small items that we had neglected to get rid of in order to remember her by. Over the course of a few months, the house began to feel less like a home and more like Sabrina’s personal showroom.
My father made the proposal a year later.
Despite the fact that I did not love her, he made the choice. I commanded myself to retain my silence. Perhaps there was something about her that I failed to notice.
Next, she began making preparations for the wedding.
Exactly at that moment, the situation changed from being uncomfortable to being unimaginable.
On a certain evening, I arrived home later than I normally would have. My father’s bedroom was the source of the laughter that I heard coming from the hallway. It was Sabrina’s voice, which was high and exuberant, and another woman’s voice that I knew as being that of her sister, Brenda.
There was something about the music that caused my skin to itch.
The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar, and either curiosity or fear drew me closer to it.
When I realized what I did, I felt my breath seize in my throat!
At that moment, Sabrina was positioned in front of the mirror, carefully turning her body. The bridal outfit that belonged to my mother.
Her hands moved over the beading in a gentle manner. As if she had any right to touch the lace sleeves at all, she fixed them with a delicate care and attention to detail.
Brenda made a clapping motion with her hands. “Sabrina, you are so incredible! Not a single flaw! It is as if it was designed specifically for you.
I had not even noticed that I had moved when the wrath began to surge through me. Due to the force with which I pulled the door open, it smashed against the wall.
“What in the name of jest are you doing?!”
In a stunned state, Sabrina turned around. I was surprised to see that you had arrived home so quickly, my darling.
Say, “Take it off right now.”
The tone of my voice clearly upset her, and she blinked at me. It’s okay. I was only using it to try it on. It’s not a huge deal.”
What’s the big deal? My voice was trembling. “I already own that dress!” It is up to me to handle it. It does not belong to you.”
Her smile wavered briefly before returning, and it was syrupy sweet and condescending.
“Honey, it’s nothing more than a dress. Aside from that, your father and I are going to get married. Don’t you think that would be a lovely way to pay tribute to your mother? If I were to marry him, would I wear her dress? What do you think about the symbolism?
I was dumbfounded by her brazenness, and I stared at her.
Unaware of the situation, Brenda chimed in and said, “That is a lovely sentiment.”
It was not a cute thing. Theft disguised as a false sentiment was what it was.
My dad entered the room at that very moment, carrying a briefcase. Until I noticed the hesitancy in his gaze, I felt a wave of relief rush over me for a fraction of a second.
I spoke to my father with a trembling voice and said, “Tell her that this isn’t okay.”
His body went numb. At one point, I was under the impression that he might truly defend my rights. Sabrina, on the other hand, slipped her arm through his and grinned up at him as if she realized the conclusion of the situation.
I also witnessed him giving in.
It was with a smug tone that she said, “Your dad thinks it’s a wonderful idea.”
My internal organs have been broken. That evening, I did not shed a tear. Neither did I yell. I didn’t even bother to face them once again.
I had in mind.
The following day, some hours later, I was sitting in my room with my laptop open and my fingers shaking over the keyboard as I typed: how to weaken cloth without causing obvious harm.
From bridal forums to blogs about costume design to guides on how to properly care for textiles, I read everything until I found it.
It is possible to make delicate fabric brittle by repeatedly soaking it in water and then allowing it to dry. At some point, it will tear as a result of the stress.
Just right.
It was by daylight that I had a plan. In the event that she requested a “wedding dress,” I would provide it to her, but it would not be one that belonged to my mother.
On that particular afternoon, I contacted Talia, who is my oldest friend. I had known her since before my mother passed away, and she was the only person I could put my faith in with handling this matter.
The kind of thrift store that smelled faintly of dust and nostalgia was the one that we went to after that. After a two-hour search, we were finally able to locate the dress we were looking for: it was a long-sleeved, lace-covered, beaded dress that appeared to be of high quality at first glance, but underneath it was made of inexpensive polyester.
It was that night, while everyone else was sleeping, that I made the substitution. I went to my room and secured the trunk that contained my mother’s dress. Sabrina’s garment bag got the outfit that she had purchased from a thrift store.
Additionally, I soaked it, dried it, and repeated the process for the subsequent few nights. Each cycle resulted in the lace becoming weaker, but it appeared to be unaffected.
The venue was filled with a flurry of conversation on the morning of the wedding. During the process of straightening the sleeves of the ruined dress, I smiled warmly and assisted Sabrina in putting it on.
She complimented you on how wonderfully you steamed it. “Please hand me my bouquet; your father is waiting at the altar,” the bride said.
As a bridesmaid, I was the first person to walk down the aisle. I managed to catch my father’s gaze, but I quickly averted my gaze.
The volume of the song increased. Sabrina started her grand entrance just as cocky as she always was. Before the event took place, she had already floated halfway down the aisle.
Rip it up.
The sound cut through the atmosphere of the music. The audience reacted with gasps of surprise.
After a moment of pause, Sabrina looked down at the gaping tear that ran over her side. Although she made an effort to cover it, another seam failed to hold. A sleeve was completely torn off. It was as if pearls were falling off of a broken necklace as beads shattered and flowed across the aisle.
“What exactly is going on?!” When she screamed.
I made a folding motion with my arms. “I guess that’s what happens when you wear what’s been around for a long time.”
The back of her head jerked toward me. This is your mother’s dress?! Why didn’t you do that?
With a “Oh, Sabrina,” I broke the silence. It is not my mother’s outfit,” I said. I wouldn’t allow you to come close to it in any way. There is… a replacement here.”
As the whispers became more audible. The color disappeared from my father’s face. Guests were staring. Behind their hands, a couple of children could be heard giggling.
It was as if Sabrina’s wonderful day was falling apart piece by piece.
When I left, I did so with a proud demeanor.
After that, Sabrina decided not to communicate with me. My father confronted me at a later time, enraged.
He questioned, “You allowed this to take place?”
“You allowed her to wear Mom’s dress,” I retorted in response. You were going to do it, at the very least. I must put a stop to her. I was left with no other option.
As his fury subsided, he became ashamed. “I am very sorry. On a certain day, she saw it while I was looking at it. … she was adamant. And I did not prevent her from doing so.”
“No,” I replied in a chilly tone. “No, you did not.”
Although their wedding did take place, it was not the fairytale moment that she had hoped for it to be. A ceremony held in the courthouse. Not a gown? There is no crowd.
What about Mom’s dress?
It belongs to me still. Secure. I am excitedly anticipating the day when I will go down the aisle, on my own terms, with her memory exactly where it should be.
