Bridal Veil

“If only Vera Wang could see me now.” Charly Ellington rolled her eyes and stared at her reflection in the three way mirror of her walk in closet in her family’s penthouse in San Francisco. She was wearing the dress – the only wedding dress worn by Foster women for over 100 years, a perfectly Victorian creation of antique lace. The bodice was too tight, the skirt was too loose and she swore the damn thing was giving her hives. Her entire body was on fire. She pulled at the edge of the high neckline, so tight around her neck that she was sure it would choke her.
“Now Charlotte, there is no need for sarcasm. You should be proud to wear your great, great, great grandmother’s dress. After all, it’s been a family tradition since-“
“Please, spare me the history lesson.” At her mother’s wince she sighed. It was not her intention to hurt her mother’s feelings, but just the mere thought of this dress and its significance caused her palms to sweat and her knees to go weak, not to mention the hives. Sarcasm had become her only defense. “It’s just that you have been so determined to make this the social event of the decade, saving the family name and all, I just thought the dress should be more…spectacular.” In truth, she would have been happy with any dress that wasn’t this one. Any dress without a century of expectations attached to it. Even so, she could still see the hurt etched into her mother’s perceptive hazel eyes before she looked away to hide it. When her mother faced her again, she looked down her elegantly patrician nose in cold disdain.
“We are a family of traditions. That’s what we want the press to write about. And there is nothing wrong with the family name. We may have lost everything, but that has been a well kept secret. One I wish you would stop reminding me of. After all, with your fortuitous match everything will be right back on track.”
Charly winced at her mother’s choice of words. There was nothing fortuitous about how this match came about. She took her pent up anger out on her mother. “I’m glad you approve of Daddy’s political matchmaking abilities.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I really am happy for you Charlotte. You have been blessed enough to be marrying your childhood sweetheart, the love of your life.” Charly inwardly grimaced and wiped her now sweaty palm discreetly across the dress. “And wearing that dress will ensure that it is a love match that withstands the test of time, just like mine and your father’s and your grandparents and their parents before them.”
“I know the family tree.” She bit her lip on an expletive. She would never win an argument with her mother about family traditions. And she could never tell her mother the real reason she didn’t want to wear the dress. The truth was, she had nothing against family tradition. On the contrary, she was extremely proud of it. She just broke out in a cold sweat at the mere thought of being the one that broke the spell. The first unhappy non-love match in the Foster line. “But, it itches, and well look at it. Could I at least update it a little? Please.” Maybe if she changed it, even a little, she would have something else to blame her marriage’s shortcomings on.
“And take the chance of ruining everything it has stood for for so long? Absolutely not.”
Charly groaned aloud this time. How was it that her mother could always seem to read her mind?
“What do you have against tradition anyway? Here I am, trying to educate you about your heritage, something that should be important to you, and you…you fight me.”
Charly sighed. “I am not trying to fight you.” She knew when she started the argument that it was not one she would win. In the end, she always caved and gave in to her family’s wishes. It was part of her make-up. She supposed that one day she would do what she wanted without concern for the opinion of her family, but that day was not today. She was an only child, born and bred to be proud of the family name and all that it stood for. And she was, really she was. She would not be going through with this sham of a marriage if she wasn’t. But the dress was just too much. But there was no way to explain that to her mother without telling her the marriage was a sham. And that she couldn’t do. She fought back a wave of nausea.
“You could be more convincing.”
She nodded, swallowing back the bile gathering in her throat, the neckline of the dress now biting into her skin. “Are we done now? We are going to be late for dinner.”
“Fine. Change your clothes. I’ll have the car brought around.” With that, Amanda Ellington shook her head and left the room.
Charly tore off the gown with a sigh of relief. She looked in the mirror at her long, swan-like neck. Funny, she expected to find a gash or at the very least a welt where the dress had been biting. But there was nothing, no outward indication of the imaginings of her guilty mind. She slipped into a Versace dinner dress and put her long blonde hair into a French twist. I still can’t believe Trent’s family is going along with all this. She grimaced. She had hoped to have help from that camp dissuading her mother from the traditional Foster wedding venue. But then again, being son-in-law to the future President of the United States won’t hurt his resume any. Why would they care where the ceremony takes place? Charly looked down at the rock, her five carat princess cut diamond engagement ring, perched elegantly on her slender ring finger. Charly was getting married to Trenton Nicholas Foxworth III, future senator and one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire country. She should be ecstatically happy. But she wasn’t. Truth be told, she wasn’t even remotely in love with him. Oh sure, she might have been once, when she was eight and he had been the handsome twelve year-old son of her father’s campaign manager. But that passing infatuation had ended by the time she was ten. But she liked Trent, and marriages at her level of society were rarely made for love. Her parents were the exception, not the rule. Besides, she took the measure of every man by how he measured up to her father, and there were not very many men in the world made out of that same cloth. Trent had her father’s passion for politics, which was what she respected most about him. Even more so, the family needed the match and this was what she was bred for. Her father, the former Governor of California, was running for President. And she was going to keep it all in the family. That, at least, was the official story, the story the press knew. The real story, well her father had lost everything on a bad business venture. A business venture to which one of Charly’s former beaux had introduced him. Charly blanched with guilt at the thought. To save the face of the Democratic Party, Trent’s father had bailed him out by offering for Charly. Her marriage to Trent would restore the family coffers and help both her father’s and Trent’s political ambitions in the process. Her father would be the next President of the United States if she had anything to say about it. It would all be a done deal if she hadn’t brought Dennis home in the first place. In hind sight, ending up with him was not one of her finer moments. But, she supposed she deserved what she got for giving in to the urges of petty jealousy. Well, what was done was done. The bottom line was that the country deserved such a great man as her father for President. And she would make it happen with a smile on her face.