ATA: Revenge Spree

I have the same dream every night.

I am standing at the bank of the river, in my wedding dress, waiting for my groom.

The youth pastor is beside me, my bridesmaid behind me, both waiting excitedly for him.

I could not have better people in support and witness of this special moment than them. I know the youth pastor. We, including his wife have bonded in our shared struggles with inferlity. My bridesmaid, had been with me through thick and in.

Now just two people are short. The groom and his best friend. It will be just us, a select few and in our special place.

We are surrounded by trees, flowers and vines, overlooking the river. The grass is soft and sprouting with more flowers. It is just a Flowerland. A grand show of growth and prosperity.

This is our favourite place. You don’t know the many times we hung out here. The words we spoke, the feelings we felt and the growth that happened. This place is has seen it all. It is equally stunning, isolated and a testament to our relationship.

I wanted us to say our vows here freely, in our favourite place, with just us before we have the real wedding ceremony in the church.

The wait for him feels like forever. The nervousness but excitement still prominent. I’ve waited 7 years for this moment, waited 2 years before that to finally date him, what is 30 more minutes?

He finally shows up. He was half dressed and alone. I wondered where his best man was.

He walked to us and stands an arms length away from us. I grab his hand and put him on his correct placement; facing each other, equidistant from the pastor. Yeah, he looks disheveled and out of place but he is here. We are here. That is all that matters.

He interrupts the pastors speech by saying “I am sorry, Cress. I can’t do this,”

My heart sinks.

“Can you give us a moment,” he asks Favour and Malefu to give us a moment.

I mute the words coming out from his mouth. He is speaking but his body is telling more way more than he is sharing. I look at his nervous face. His jaw is tense, all up to his shoulders. He is taking with his hands, he does that when he is feeling guilty.

I have one question in mind. How long did he fall out of love with me? How long was I a clown to everyone.

We argue, he has me standing by the edge of the river by my tippy toes

I wish he comes back to his senses. I wish he reaches out for me, grabs me tight and whisks me away. But he pushes me away.

I fall into the cold, deep, murky waters. Falling deeper by the weight of my spoilt wedding dress.

I was too hurt to fight the waters. My feet each the ground and I intentionally fell to my back. The world around me was dark and murky. I was dim from my light. I stopped holding my breath and slowly released the air from my chest. I wanted the world to swallow me then.

By my last breath, the hands of my bridesmaid carried me out of the water and laid me on the stone cold grass that spewed weeds. The land that emitted fertility had drained mine.

I cough up some of the river water I aspirated. I get up and use the little dignity I have to walk away.

Every night I am traumatised by the same dream. The same faces, the wave of pain never fades, actually it increases in weight and the dream ends the same.

I am not chosen. He does dunk into the water after me.

I am done begging to be loved. I am done begging to be seen. I am done settling for scraps.

I have always been bigger than that town and its people. That day I took my leave. First I took a shower.

The joke is over. The clown is humiliated.

This was my induction. It was like a reverse baptism. In came a girl pure of heart and dreams and out came a girl with a heart of stone and dreams to return for revenge.