The Wish of a Broken Heart

Broken Now and Then

Friday
June 13th
I don’t know when, how, or why I ended up where I am, but here I am. As insane as it sounds, I am no longer on earth. I think. Maybe I’m dead. Or maybe I’m in a coma! One where I can feel a hell of a lot of pain and new scents are being created? Maybe, just maybe, I should have listened to Grandmother’s crazy stories of magic in our blood and being careful what we wish for. They don’t sound so crazy anymore.
All I know is I’m on the ground, can’t move, staring up at an impossibly blue sky through broken branches of trees I’ve never seen before. That’s saying a lot. Botany is my favorite hobby. I think I have internal bleeding from falling through the three-story tall trees like a pinball. My only regrets are knowing my Mum will be in a panic, won’t quit searching, and my sweet American Pit Bull Terrier, Nimuë, fell through with me.
I can hear Nimuë's whimpers and the slight rustling of the spring green grasses and brightly colored flowers dotting this meadow. She’s trying to crawl to me. I feel her snout touch my fingertips, and she licks my hand before collapsing. My sweet girl. She’s just barely breathing, but she’s with me as the darkness invades my vision. At least we’ll die in a place of impossible beauty.
There must be an amazing little waterfall nearby. The water’s sounds become sharper as my vision fades. It sounds like crystal wind chimes. Pure music. I can hear voices and the sounds of hooves far off. My thoughts turn to the hope that they won’t desecrate our bodies and the reason we’re here.
Her.
The slut who ruined my happily ever after and my whore of an ex who shattered my heart.

Thursday
May 22nd
3 Weeks ago…
“Cara! Cara, where are you?”
“I’m here Aya Mama.” I rush down the stairs trying to shove my things in my purse while carrying my shoes and hairbrush.
“Always running late.”
“Fashionably late.” I say in a mock high societal tone.
“That’s my girl.” Mum chuckles and shakes her head. I’ve put my brush handle in my mouth, clutching my things, and hopping on one foot at a time to put my shoes on. Miracle of miracles, I haven’t fallen on my face and can climb into the jeep safely. Thank heavens for running boards! I’m not even 5-foot tall and trying to get into a tall vehicle is comical.
It’s funny. I am the shortest person in my family. Even most of the women are 6-foot plus. My mum is the shortest of her siblings at 5-foot 11. In a family of people who look like models, is me.
As we drive to the bridal shop for my fitting, we go over all the details with the planner to make sure everything is set for the “big event” in two weeks. She’s a family friend, so the planning is less stressful than it could be. There’s still plenty.
Unfortunately, it is nothing like what I want. My fiancé invited business clients and high society snobs. So, our wedding has become an over-the-top glam snowball wedding with gold everywhere. Ugh. Don’t get me wrong, Jasmine has really done a beautiful job and the venue is stunning. It’s just not me.
And the gold? He knows I don’t like yellow tones. My skin is pale, it reflects color. So, I look jaundiced around gold. Also, being so pale around so much white, I blend in. If it was my choice, we would have a masquerade ball wedding on Halloween. But that’s “not classy.” I guess his thoughts were more along the lines of a regular Halloween party. All he and his family could say was “class, not ass.”
It’s a good thing I love him so much. The planning of this wedding in under six months has put a lot of strain on everyone, but he wanted a June wedding and didn’t want to wait another year. He is so sweet.
“I don’t want to waste anymore time without you in my arms at night. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before closing my eyes every night until the Lord calls me home.” I mean how could I say no to him when he’s being so loving? We can do this.
Only 16 days to go. We’re having it on June 6th. We fought over the day. A bad relative of mine was born June 6th, 1966. I swear he was evil reincarnate. He won that fight too by pointing out how we can turn a bad day into something good.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it. He’s been pulling in extra work to get us a house and I’ve been so busy with the wedding, school, studying, AND working a full-time job at the animal shelter. I hardly see him. The stress is getting to both of us. It seems to make him angry and he’s been yelling a lot. Mum gives him the side eye, but others tell me it will all change when the chaos dust clears. It’s normal.
“Ouch!”
“Oh, sorry Miss Hawkins!” The seamstress, Natalia, missed the cloth when pinning it.
“It’s okay.” I dismiss the incident immediately. I like to sew and know how hard a live fitting can be when someone is talking. We’re going over the guest list and seating chart. The planning. Never. Ends. Luckily, we only have the two tables where our closest and most loved friends and family will be sitting. The bridal party and our parents will be on stage with us, sitting at a wide curved table with a fountain sitting in its curve. “… Jenny Kilorely will be…”
“WHAT!?!” My mum and I yell at the same time. Everyone flinches and Jasmine, who met us at the dress shop, jumps in surprise.
“Who the hell invited the crack whore? I don’t even want her in the same state after what she’s done.” Mum and Jaz throw their hands up and claim innocence.
When I was 22, I was pregnant and excited to be a mother. Jenny’s insane jealousy reared its head. She caused an “accident” that led to a miscarriage. The father left me when he read the medical file. He saw “spontaneous abortion” and thought I had a procedure done. He didn’t want to hear the truth and married his ex within a month after abandoning me to my PPD (postpartum depression). That’s when I met Jerry. He helped put the pieces of me back together. Mum and Jaz were right there and took shifts sitting with me.
“It looks like… Oh what the…” Jaz trails off and has that look of angry disappointment on her face.
“Jaz?” Mum prompts her to continue.
“It was Jerry.” She gives me an apologetic look.
“What the heck is that boy thinking?” Mum pulls us out of our shocked states. Even Natalia looks angry. She knows the story, right down to Jenny threatening to kill me.
Natalia has known our family for over 40 years and still refuses to use our first names. I once called her Lady Naty as a child and, after her shock, it stuck. She immigrated here with her family from a small European country with a strict caste system. Using titles as a peasant there is a criminal offense. The punishment could be as terrible as a public execution.
Luckily, her grandparents had a way with material that brought the attention of an American clothing designer on vacation. She helped the small family escape poverty by employing them. They now own three shops and Natalia’s granddaughter just had her first fashion show.
“I just don’t understand. Why would he invite such a wretched creature? Honestly miss, I just don’t understand.” Natalia shakes her head and sighs. We finish our appointment and invite Natalia to join us for brunch. It really helps brighten our day. Now, what to do about the less-than-unwelcome wedding guest?
I get home and find Nimuë waiting for a walk. Her brindle markings are too cute. She has a patch over her left eye, a gingerbread man on the same ear, her right ear is a heart, and there's a “magic swirl” on her back. She has others, but those are the ones I noticed first when she was born. I named her Nimuë because of the swirl marking, and she has brought magic into my life when I needed it most. She chased the postpartum away and pulls me out of it when I do get depressed.
Our family rescues animals. Pregnant, newborn, and disabled animals are our specialty. We found loving homes for all of them, but she is the best foster fail ever. She’s incredibly intelligent and sweet. Babies crawl and bite on her. All she does is walk away and jump up in her favorite seat.
She can’t stand to have me out of her sight for very long. I have seizures, mild epilepsy, and some other health problems I was born with. We were able to get her trained to detect, alert, and assist me. I normally take her everywhere with me, like any service dog. Unfortunately, she was attacked on one of our walks and is injured. So, she has to stay at home until her leg is healed.
I guess it’s a good thing today because she cannot stand Jerry. I don’t understand why, but she growls every time he is near. I need to speak to him about inviting that monster to our wedding. He needs to know I will not allow her anywhere near the event.
He is having dinner with his parents after work tonight. I can’t believe he’s making them dinner. It’s sweet. He’s never cooked for me though. I hope he does after we’re wed. His mother and I don’t get along. I typically avoid these dinners, but I’ll suffer through and go to clear this mess up.
I carefully plan an appropriate dinner-with-the-in-laws outfit and start getting ready. It’s tedious having to look perfect for a private family dinner, but I deal with it to avoid her unnecessary drama. Karen truly lives up to the cliché name. Haircut and all. I don’t understand how Larry handles her. He’s such a sweet man and doesn’t deserve her verbal abuse.