Bearing Up

SILVER SLIPPERS

 

The three bronze bells chime as one. They shake the belfry, deafen the ears of residents of Elway. The day is cold. I wear the white mittens my mother knitted for me long ago when I was but sixteen. Today they are my relief from the cacophony of the bells. I cover my ears and walk toward the Church of Our Lord. Beside me is Reginald, my cousin thrice removed. He gently touches my elbow, guides me, holds tight if I stumble.

 

Invited guests are ushered in to their proper pews. As Reginald and I reach the massive doors, I renege, want to go no further. 'Let us precede, Alice. Smile.' I reply, 'You ask too much of me, dear cousin. I do not belong here.' An elderly twosome behind us suggests  we move more quickly. If ever I wanted to kill someone, these are the ones I would do in. Reginald prods me forward.

 

Inside the church is slightly warmer. The chimes, thank the good Lord, have ceased. I remove my mittens but they will not fit into the small chain purse hanging from my waist. Reginald takes them from me and stuffs them in the wide white cuffs of his shirt. One drops out and falls in the aisle. I retrieve it. Not my wrinkled brow or stern look keep Reginald from being angry with me. We walk further down the aisle to within ten rows of where the wedding ceremony will be enacted. I am extremely uncomfortable. It is I who should be in our priest's chambers, standing beside Courtleigh, paying our tithe. Turning from Reginald, with my lace handkerchief, I dab at my watery eyes. He looks away.

 

Everyone has been seated. We fill less than half of our large and ancient church. The organ reverberates. We all kneel, bow our heads, thank the Lord for the blessings he has showered on us. I do not say that part. We are all then seated. Trumpets blare, announce the bride-to-be, Daphyne of Hallmore, is about to enter. I do not turn to see her  until Reginald pushes against me, shows me his pleasant smile.  When I first see Daphne, I am dazzled by her beauty. As she slowly walks down the aisle, her wide silk dress fills every inch of it. A silver crown , rubies gleaming in the candlelight, hold my eyes fast. Sparkling tiny stars glimmer on the bodice. Daphne proudly holds her head high. She has but two rows more of pews to go before reaching Reginald and me.
Her silver slippers peak out from under her skirt. I stoop and pretend to adjust the strap on my shoe and slip my retrieved mitten under her.
The curved heel of her silver slipper catches on it. She trips, falls. Her silver slipper lies in the aisle. I do not take my eyes off of Reginald who is the first to reach her. I see him slip my mitten back in his shirt cuff, packing it tightly this time. Handing the broken heel to Reginald, Daphne hobbles forward. Silence fills the church. Prayers are said and the marriage joins the two.

 

As we exit the Church of Our Lord, I take Reginald's arm, pull it closer to my body than ever before. Above our fireplace we have enshrined the heel of Daphne's  silver slipper.