“Hey, I thought you said Jack was single?”
“He was. He is.”
“I doubt he was. As for is, you’re wrong too. Who’s that with him?”
“I’ve never seen her before. I don’t know.”
Voices murmured within the marble hall. Eyes fell on the couple who just walked in, hand in hand and whispers followed. He squeezed her hand, beaming with joy and pride. She smiled as they walked pass the wondering crowd hushed by every small step she took.
“You deserve this,” he whispered to her. “And everything else that I own, you deserve them alright.”
For once, she refused to disagree with him on this case.
Two hours ago…
“Mom, have you seen my curler set? It was here just now.” The room was a mess. Magazines and clothes were all over the place. Anne could not help but giggle when she saw her niece, Terry running through her piles of junks, as her mother called them. Searching through them she was throwing those stuffs into the air. Magazines were flying here and there, dropping dead on the floor as soon as they learnt to fly.
“Terry, what are you doing?” Megan entered her daughter’s room with a glass of water in her left hand. A somnolent look was well-sculptured on her face. She took a sip and walked over towards her sister, Anne, who was still giggling at her niece’s frustrated search. “And as for you, young lady,” Megan said. “Why are you not dressed up? Terry, go and get my curler instead. We’ll look for yours later. Your aunt here needs an extreme makeover.”
“A nip of my magical touch,
A tuck of invisible pins,
A brush of make-up and you’re set to go.”
Megan and Terry took turns painting powdered colours on Anne’s face. Her hair, once straight, was pulled, twisted and curled by professional hands. Her head tuned in to every pull of her hair. After a few minutes, her neck began to cramp.
“Guys, seriously, you don’t have to do this…” Anne started to whine, trying to save herself from the makeover madness her sister bestowed on her.
“Hush now, we’re almost done,” Megan replied softly. Her fingers gently guided black mascara on Anne’s eyes, faint but it was a wonder touch. “And voila – my best yet! Now get into your dress for me, sweetie.” Megan left the room with Terry so Anne could have a moment for herself.
Standing before the walled mirror, Anne gazed at her own reflection, awed and speechless. The woman in the mirror looked at her and asked, “Who are you?” A while ago Anne was sure the woman was a 21st century housewife, wearing only a simple tee-shirt and denim shorts. Her glasses were rested on her nose. Now however, she had travelled back into time. Before Anne she stood in a coffee vintage dress. She had become someone else.
One hour ago…
Megan found her sister pacing in Terry’s room, nervous, uncertain and mumbling. “Quit it, worrywart. You’re giving me headaches. Come down. He’s on his way here,” she called to Anne. Anne stopped and looked at Megan. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea…” She sighed. “Anne McCoy! How dare you say that? You’re not confident of yourself. It’s not like you. It’s not like us McCoys. Do me a favour and come down now, will you?”
She tagged behind Megan down the stairs. “Look,” her sister began. “You’re his wife. Aren’t you supposed to support him?”
“He has a reputation on his name. I’m nobody in his business league.”
“But he married you, didn’t he? Of all the other women out there, he chose you. Stop being a kid. Stretch a smile.”
Megan was a brave soul. The death of her husband made her tougher. Living with her only daughter made her almost invincible. And what about Anne? Well, her husband is alive and they are into their second year of marriage. They don’t have any kids yet but they planned to. He brings a good 5-figure pay check home every month. She has a stable income every month, from teaching. She should be happy. Instead it was as if she and Megan swapped places. Anne was soon lost in her thoughts of what’s what.
The door bell rang. A pleasant buzz. Terry opened the door.
“Aunt Anne, he’s here!”
Wandering through the mists in her mind, memories played persistently. She felt the gentle touch from when he first held her hand. A flood of emotions swept her away remembering their first kiss. Every day with him was worth heaven. His proposal was charming and their wedding, a fairytale. As she walked down the lane of her memories, a faint voice swam to her.
“Anne?”
A very familiar voice, soft yet firm. Poof! The mists were gone, the flood dried and the memories flew away. A man stood in the hallway, a bouquet of fresh, red roses in hand. He was Prince Charming in tux and he has come to carry her off in his Porsche. He approached her and whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful, love.”
And once again, the memories she holds so dearly in her heart danced in harmony with the rhythm of emotions, in the symphony of his voice.
Present time…
He held her hand in his. He kept her close to him. She’s his priceless treasure. And he beamed as his colleagues circled them. He smiled.
“Dear friends, meet Mrs. Jack Adam, the soul of my success.”
The marble hall was filled with murmurs. They greeted her with reverence. For all they knew, she was the woman who stole the heart of their most eligible bachelor. He was the heir of a booming business company. She was a fresh high school teacher. What else was there to know of but the magic they weaved between them?
Back in Megan’s apartment, the blue, swivel chair was cold that night. Its owner used to warm it every night in wait for her husband. But tonight, the lights go off early. Tonight, the wheels stay at rest.
Jack clenched his wife’s waist. He told her softly, “I’m proud to show you to the world, whether you like it or not. You deserve this. You truly do.”
Anne just nodded. She smiled. She got herself into this. She should not complain.
