The Bearer

Episode five

"Have you decided not to keep me waiting anymore?" asked my father teasingly, but obviously he didn't expect an answer to his question, because he continued in a slightly nicer tone: "Can we?"He offered me his shoulder and for a brief moment I thought he looked at me with a warm fatherly look. But I didn't answer. Without words, I put my hand on my father's elbow and walked down the wooden stairs leading to the tower of the church near our family residence.

Not ours. Over the years, I could get used to the fact that it is no longer ours. Nothing is ours anymore. Only his. Romus's. My future husband's. And I am the rent paid by my family. Or rather my body. Specifically, the reproductive system. Functional reproductive system.

Do all brides have thoughts of this kind? Or am I the only one? Or is it rather a product of the times?

I walk two steps behind my father, as the dress - a copy of the Empress "Sisi" dress from Franz Xaver Winterhalter's famous painting - is too wide for us to walk side by side down the spiral staircase. He holds my hand and I wonder again why he does this. Does he really care about me and want to support me? He cares about me, but without selling me, he can't provide for the rest of our family? Or was I just a product all along, a mare that was bred for a bargain? Is he afraid I'll run away? Is that why he's holding me? Ridiculous reasoning. Even as the best sprinter, I would never be able to run in this dress.Is the reason just etiquette and nothing more, and am I just being so pretentious as to look for something more behind the gesture?

At the bottom of the stairs, my mother is already waiting with bread, which I will exchange for a wedding bouquet with my future husband. The fact that I don't like all the traditions associated with the wedding day doesn't bother anyone. This entire charade has been planned without me, and I am expected to play a leading role in it. The whole thing is ridiculous. At least aunt Helen managed to convince my mother that I didn't have to attend to the guests before the ceremony. I don't know how I'd manage without starting to beg the guests to help me escape.

"Emily? Emily? Can you please take the bread? Your husband is already waiting for you. I don't know what took you so long up there," blurts out my obviously nervous mom, shoving the bread into my hands. "And why are you so pale?! Can't they put on your make-up properly? Kathrin? Kathrin?! Oh, there you are," my mother turned to the 30-year-old blonde who was doing my makeup today and came running when called. "Please, color her cheeks a little red, because she can't go out like this. They will even accuse us of being sick, if not worse. And do you know what it will mean if this marriage is not fulfilled? Oh, Lord God save us."

My FUTURE husband, I want to scream. But I don't make a sound, just obediently stand and hold while Kathrin paints my cheeks.

"Have the guests finished eating yet? So can anyone tell me if they are ready to gather in the courtyard yet? The groom's family is already waiting!" my mother yells, and I feel guilty that she has to organize all this by herself. That we can't afford to hire a wedding agency.

Although my future husband took over all the expenses related to the wedding, my mother insisted on the traditions and entertaining family relatives before the actual ceremony and celebration. I was against it. And my future husband's family refused to cover exactly these costs. One would think that my future husband would have found out about this and decided to support me. But how could he, when I didn't have the courage to express this opinion of mine out loud. Simply, everything that is not necessary for the validity of the marriage and that will not be in the newspaper tomorrow they won't pay.