Not With Haste

Verena sat in silence, eyes fixed firmly on the door as she awaited her cousins’ return. They had left a little while earlier, having ventured to the gas station across the street to fetch some mineral water for the increasingly unstable Verena. She’d been complaining about her stomach hurting, saying that there’d been something off about the breakfast she’d ordered, something that had confined her to the bathroom for the better part of fifteen minutes. Her cousins thought she was being overdramatic, that it was only the nerves taking over again, but not wanting to get into it with their emotionally unstable relative; they offered to fetch some mineral water to combat the upset stomach and then left Verena alone with the pesky thoughts that had been robbing her of sleep throughout the past week.

It seemed that every single doubt she’d ever had, had decided to make itself known. There wasn’t a moment in which she wasn’t fixating on one thing or another, on a look that passed between her and Oscar, or words they’d uttered. It was ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous, but nothing she did kept her mind busy enough to stray it from those thoughts. All she could think about was her life, her relationship with Oscar, and whether or not she was making the right decision by finally marrying him after eleven years together.

The pair was legally husband and wife, having gotten married right after she’d passed the bar exam and after he’d gotten a promotion at the architecture firm in which he worked. She was a young bride, having married at the tender age of twenty-five. And now, now she was a twenty-nine year old woman that was on the verge of being remarried, though this time it wouldn’t be a simple renewal of the vows, this time it would be a proper wedding done by the Catholic Church.

Oscar and Verena had initially planned on getting married by the church during their first wedding. It was what their parents wanted, it was what Oscar wanted as well, and for the first few months of the engagement, it was also what Verena wanted. She’d always imagined herself walking to the altar in a beautiful white dress, she’d wear a Spanish style veil, and there’d be a mariachi playing as she made her way to her future husband. She’d imagined how the ceremony would be, and for the first few months, she was content in allowing that to become her reality, but then she started freaking out at just what it meant to be married by the Catholic Church. She was old fashioned; she believed that marriage was for life, and that there was no out. Once the vows were said, that was it. And the thought of spending the rest of her life with Oscar terrified her. What if something went wrong? What if he cheated on her? What if she became disenchanted? She was so terrified of what could potentially happen in the future, that she couldn’t go through with a religious ceremony. She loved Oscar, truly she did, but she wasn’t ready for a Catholic wedding. She could marry him by the government, she’d be faithful and true, but she wasn’t yet comfortable with cementing their future before the church.

So she convinced him that it wasn’t a good idea by claiming that it was outside their budget. They were both paying off student loans and were looking to buy a house, so there was no way they could afford to pay for a Church, a ballroom, a mariachi, food, drinks, and all those other things that their families deemed crucial for a proper Mexican wedding. Had Oscar been less proud, he could’ve argued that they could simply ask their relatives to pitch in, a lot of people did that, there was no shame in it, but Oscar was proud and wanted to be able to pay for a wedding out of his own pocket. And since he wasn’t able to do so when they were in their mid-twenties, he agreed to postpone it until later on.

They were married in an intimate backyard ceremony. They decorated the backyard of their new home with beautiful flowers and fabrics, doing their best to transform it into a suitable wedding space. It might not have been as large as they’d always wanted, but that was how they were married. And for several years that was enough. There was no talk about another wedding, the subject lay completely untouched, but then, in late 2011, when their loans had been paid off, as well as both their cars, Oscar brought up the subject. He’d mentioned it during dinner, having asked Verena to please pass the salsa, and also, if she thought it was time they get married by the church.

Verena pretended not to hear him, returning her attention to the food on her plate, but Oscar brought it up again, asking if she thought they were ready to have the sort of wedding that both their families had expected the first time around. It was then that she set her fork down on the plate, taking that moment to swallow the lump in her throat, and then, as calmly as she could, she told him that there was no point in getting married again. It’d be a waste of money. They were legally husband and wife, and that was what mattered. She hoped that would be enough to deter him, but it wasn’t Oscar wanted to be married by the church. He’d been brought up in a traditional Catholic home and wanted to stop living in sin. His parents were always nagging him about it, reminding him that all his siblings had been married by the church and that he was the only one that hadn’t.

Their nagging stirred him into action, making him bring up the topic to Verena, but the days passed and she wasn’t warming up to the idea. And it was because Verena was terrified of getting married by the Church. She’d also been brought up in a pretty traditional Catholic home and her parents had drilled it into her head that once she got married by the Church, it was for life, that there’d be no getting out of it. That was too much commitment for her to make to Oscar. There were, after all, days in which she couldn’t stand the sight of him, evenings in which she avoided him altogether, and she wasn’t sure if the love she felt for him, if the moments of happiness she’d shared with him, were enough to push her into making a sacred lifelong commitment to him. She wanted to keep the escape route available in case things got bad or she met someone that she could truly see herself growing old with.

But eventually, his persistence, coupled with their parents incessant nagging, drove her into agreeing to getting married by the Church. She was upset with herself for having given into the demands of her parents, but was relieved that she no longer received phone calls at all hours of the day, or had them stop by the office during her lunch break, just so they could scold her in person. She’d thought that they, of all people, would understand why she was being so cautious about getting married, but no. They felt that since she’d been with him for over a decade, she should just get married by the church. That it was the logical next step, because according to them, sooner or later it was going to happen, and it was better that it be sooner. Verena didn’t share her parent’s certainty, but she caved. And after she caved, she kept reminding herself that she was already married. It made sense for her to go through with the Catholic ceremony, it was just a formality after all, it wasn’t going to change anything, not really, but it didn’t matter how many times she repeated that to herself, she didn’t believe it.

And even then, mere hours before the ceremony, Verena remained unsure as to whether she wanted to go through with the wedding. It was such a grown up thing to do, so much more definite than a simple backyard wedding. She could dissolve her marriage at any moment, all she had to do was petition for divorce and then wait for the judge to finalize it, but there would be no divorce if she married by the Church. And she was scared that Oscar might not be the one. Whenever she dreamt about her wedding, she couldn’t see him standing at the altar, the face of the groom in her dreams was always blurred out, and she wondered if that was her subconscious trying to say something.

Her cousins thought she was crazy for freaking out over the wedding. They kept telling her that she’d already been through one wedding, this one was nothing more than a formality, something done to appease the family, but those words failed to soothe Verena. She was in full on panic mode. She wanted nothing more than to disappear somewhere far, but despite that, she was unwilling to do anything that might stop the wedding. So she just sat on the edge of the chair, her hands folded neatly on her lap as she waited for her cousins to get back.

And until they returned, she kept telling herself that everything was going to be fine. She’d been married to him for four years. She already knew what marriage to him was like. It was frustrating at times, yet completely enjoyable at others. And despite the fact that they were prone to arguing, they always made up. In her heart, she knew that Oscar was a good man, a bit hardheaded and a tad obnoxious, but he was a fierce lover that always left her gasping for breath, and he was loyal, sticking through her side in the good and the bad. When she broke her left arm after a nasty car accident, it was him that showered her and did the cooking, as well as the cleaning around the house. He’d even dropped and picked her off from work during the entire recovery process, but despite all that, she couldn’t help but second guess her decision to go through with the wedding.

Verena just wasn’t sure if she was ready to spend the rest of her life with him, or with anyone. It was too long a time, too big a commitment. She couldn’t even commit to taking her vitamins everyday or drinking eight glasses of water. So how was she going to commit to spending the rest of her life with him? And not just spending the rest of her life with him, but to having children! For years, she’d managed to keep the topic of babies off the table, but now that they were going to be properly married, Oscar had started talking about having children in the near future, and Verena wasn’t thrilled about that.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have children of her own. She did, really. But she just didn’t think they were ready to have kids. Kids were a lifelong commitment, a huge responsibility that would make her take time off work or stop working altogether in order to raise them, and she wasn’t ready for that, not yet. She wanted to work a few more years, maybe five or six, and then have kids, but Oscar was pressuring her. As were her parents, who made a habit of reminding her that they wouldn’t live forever, that she should give them a grandchild before they died. They were insistent, but on that topic, Verena refused to cave. She wasn’t going to have children until she felt comfortable enough, there would be no budging on that issue.

Verena was so swept up in her thoughts that she failed to notice when her cousins got in. She was too busy thinking about what lay ahead, where they’d be in ten years, whether or not they’d be able to make. Her cousins could tell that Verena was freaking out again. She’d been doing so for the last two weeks, and they were worried about her, but they also thought she was being stupid about things. She was already married. She’d been with Oscar for eleven years, so there was no reason to be freaking out, not in their eyes at least. She’d already made her life with him, now it was just time to validate it in front of their families.

“Everything alright?” inquired Amber, the maid of honor.

“Hmm?” was Verena’s response. She turned to look at her cousin, who also doubled as her best friend. “What was that?”

“Are you okay?” repeated Amber, slowly.

It took a moment for Verena to register the question. She’d been in her own little world for so long that the words of others sounded as if they were being uttered in a foreign language, but in time, her mind processed what had been asked and she proceeded to answer the question.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she told Amber. “I was only dozing off a little.”

“It has been a long morning.” Amber approached her cousin, holding the plastic bag that contained three mineral waters. “But hopefully this’ll even you out. Try not to drink all of them, because I doubt they’ll let you run off to the restroom while you’re up on the altar. And if you do end up running off, they’ll think you’re bailing.” She noticed the flicker of emotions in her cousin’s eyes. “Still worrying about this?”

“No!” said Verena, much louder than she would’ve liked. “Well, I don’t know . . . maybe. This is just all so damn grown up.”

“You’ve been married four years. If that’s not grown up then what is?”

Verena opened the bottle. “I don’t know. I just – I feel like this is at another level and I don’t know if I'm ready for that. Does that even make sense?”

“No.” Amber replied.

“You’re supposed to say it does!” whined Verena, petulantly.

“I'm not going to lie to your ass to make you feel better. I don’t function like that, but just remember that you’ve been with him for your entire adult life. This ceremony isn’t going to change anything. It’s just adding a certificate to the equation.”

“That is true . . .” agreed Verena, quietly.

Amber nodded. “Now shut up and drink your water.”

“Always so graceful with your words,” said Verena, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Amber flicked Verena on the nose and walked over to the bathroom to touch up her make up.

“Do you have the time, Josie?” Verena asked her younger cousin, Josephina.

“It’s . . . it’s a quarter to one.” Josephina answered. “Nearly time.”

“I was thinking it was earlier for some reason.” Verena ran a hand along her dress. “Guess we’re gonna be going out soon.”

“Tio (uncle) Alex is gonna come get us.”

“But I thought my mom was.” Verena had been told explicitly by her mother that she would be the one to fetch her from the Cathedral’s bridal room.

“Well, she was, but she got caught up with some things.” Josephina explained. “Apparently there were a couple issues –”

“Issues?” cried Verena. “What happened? Did the flower vendors not do their job right? I told them they had to get the arrangements up before –”

“Don’t trip. It wasn’t anything to do with the vendors.” Josephina should’ve chosen her words more carefully. “There were just some things that came up with the family. So she’s seeing to that, and since she’s busy, your dad’s gonna come get it. That reminds me, he told me to give this to you.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out a chocolate bar. “He said to make sure you ate it all.”

“Chocolate’s his solution to everything,” said Verena, taking the chocolate bar from her cousin.

“Can’t blame him, it’s delicious.” Josephina smiled cheerfully. “And it’ll be alright, you know, all this.”

“You think?” she took a bite of the chocolate.

Josephina nodded. “Everything’s set up, just waiting for you to get out there. And I know you might be feeling a bit iffy about this, but you’ve been married for years, you know what you’re getting into, you’ve lived with him and you still love him, so this won’t . . . wait . . . you do still love him. Don’t you?”

“What? Yes! Of course, I do. Well, most of the time, but that’s normal. Isn’t it? I mean, when you’re with someone all the time it’s normal to get annoyed with them every so often it. Right?” her gaze implored Josephina to say that it was normal.

“I can’t reply one way or the other.” Josephina sighed softly. “Marcos and I don’t live together, so I'm not sure how the dynamics would be between couples that do. But Frankie should know.”

“Hmm?” she was taken from her daze. “Know what?” inquired Francisca.

“If it’s normal to get annoyed with someone when you live with them,” repeated Josephina.

“Oh. Uh, well, I haven’t even been married four months so I don’t think I can be like a trusted source for this sort of question. Not to mention that Javi is really mellow, so I can’t really say that he annoys me, but like I said, I’ve only been married three and a half months, so ask me again in a couple years.” Francisca laughed, trying to make light of the situation.

“I don’t think you’ll ever get into an actual fight with Javi. He’s way too easy going to complain about anything,” commented Verena.

“And he’s good in the –”

“Frankie!” scolded Josephina. “We’re in fucking church. Don’t be talking about banging when we’re at church.”

“You swear it’s unnatural.” Francisca didn’t understand why Josephina was so uptight. “Last time I’m a married woman that’s talking about banging the husband that she married by the church, so if anything, I should be applauded.”

“Oh yes, the heavens are going to open up and the angels are going to applaud you for banging,” muttered Josephina, sarcastically.

“That’s the least I deserve.” Francisca smirked.

As Josephina and Francisca bickered amongst themselves, Verena set down her half eaten chocolate and stared at herself in the mirror. The dress she was wearing had been custom made for the occasion. She’d had photos of what she’d wanted it to look like, but being unable to find the perfect fusion of all those dresses, she had found herself forced to hire a dressmaker at a high end bridal boutique, for the task. Verena had ended up paying well over what she would’ve otherwise paid had she simply bought a dress off the rack, but as she stared at herself in the mirror, as she looked at the satin and delicate lace overlay, she couldn’t regret the hit that their wedding budget had taken. It had been worth it. The dress was beautiful and paired with the mantilla veil that Oscar’s mother had brought her from Mexico, she felt like a fairytale princess, instead of a corporate lawyer that spent most days in suits and uncomfortable heels.

A soft smile spread across her lips as she remembered the outfit she wore at her first wedding. It hadn’t been a dress. She’d thought that a dress would look ridiculous for a backyard ceremony, so she went in an ivory suit, one that she had found on sale at Macy’s. Her mother had nagged her about it, saying that she should get a proper wedding dress, but Verena had been stubborn. She wanted to get married in that suit, so she paid for it with the money she earned from working at Starbucks, and had been thrilled on the day in which she was finally able to slip it on. And now, four years later, she was wearing a beautiful dress, waiting to remarry her husband.

It was hard to believe that they’d made it four years. A lot of people had told them that they were crazy, too young to get married, but there they were; now she was in her late twenties and he’d entered his thirties, but they were still married. They had made it through tough times, worked through them as a pair and had relished in the high points of their marriage, it was because of their strength that they were still married, it was because of the love that they felt that they were still together. And it didn’t matter if it wasn’t a raging fire as it had been when they’d first met, because a raging fire might blow out with a gust of wind, instead their love was a slow, steady flame protected from harsh wind. The fights that they had weren’t enough to make them want a divorce, neither were the nights in which he slept on the couch or that she told him she had a headache in order to get out of sex. They’d been very much married, very much in love, and Verena had just been frightened of a Church wedding because that meant, at least to her, that in the future there wouldn’t be an exit route, not that she intended on using it any time soon, she just liked knowing it was there, in case she ever needed it.

But now, after of months of freaking out, she realized just how absurd she’d sounded. Everyone around her kept telling her that she was crazy for freaking out over getting married, when she was already married, and she’d told them that she wasn’t crazy, that it made sense to her, to worry. But now, she understood why they’d shot her odd looks. It was just a ceremony. It was just a continuation of they life they were already living, and it didn’t mean that she was going to get pregnant in a month, she was still in control of her body and they wouldn’t have children until she felt ready.

Oscar would be upset, a bit annoyed, but he’d live through it. And that was one of the reasons why she loved him. He would complain about things, Lord knows he would, but in the end, he’d go along with what she wanted. The only thing that hadn’t rang true, about had been the Catholic wedding, but that was because he’d waited seven years to bring it up again, and he was determined to be able to do things the way his parents had.

“And she’s crying, great. Here I thought we were going to make it to the aisle before the waterworks started.” Amber spoke as she reentered the room. “Honestly, if you’re freaking out this much, don’t you think you should –“

Verena suddenly became aware of the tears streaming down her face. “I'm not crying because I'm freaking out.”

“Then why you crying?” asked Amber.

“Because I'm feeling good about this now,” she whispered.

“Feeling good about this?” repeated Francisca. “You were just freaking out about whether you were ready to commit and now you’re happy about this? You make no sense!”

“It’s all the drugs she’s done.” Amber declared.

“They’ve messed up her brain.” Josephina added, solemnly.

“I want to say that’s not true, but I'm pretty sure it is.” Verena carefully wiped the tears from her face, a smile flickering across her lips. “But that’s not to bad an effect for seventeen years of pot use.”

“It’s a lot better than Meth Face. Or coked out Lindsay Lohan, that bitch fucked that face up. And that skin!” Amber shuddered. “That stuff’s like old leather, and not nice old leather, but the kind that little kids have pissed on and rubbed random shit on.”

As Amber and Francisca rambled on about how disgusting Lohan’s skin was, Verena walked over to her overnight bag, where a bottle of tequila lay hidden. She took it out, along with the plastic cups that she’d brought and proceeded to pour each of them a little over a shot.

“Are we drinking?” asked Josephina, her brow furrowed.

“We’ve got to toast, don’t we?” Verena smiled and handed her a cup. “Plus it’s not like we’re gonna get drunk off this.”

“Problem is, it’s never just one drink with you lot.” Josephina took the cup into her possession.

“Well, this time it is.” Verena said, very matter-of-factly.

Amber claimed her cup. “Lies,” she declared. “There’s going to be at least four of these.”

“Still not enough to get drunk,” stated Francisca as she to took, her cup.

“Enough to get me going,” reminded Josephina.

“Then you’ll stop at two.” Amber grinned. “Now, what shall we toast to?”

“To a fulfilling marriage,” Francisca raised her cup.

“To not smothering him in his sleep,” added Amber, a cheeky grin adorning her face.

The four of them remained in the room, drinking and laughing as they waited for Verena’s father to get there. They didn’t wait long. It only took a little less than ten minutes for him to knock on the door. Francisca was the one to open it. She greeted her uncle with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug. She then stepped to the side, letting him finally see the finishing product of his daughter’s transformation into a blushing bride. His chocolate brown eyes instantaneously welled with tears. He hadn’t cried during her first wedding, but he knew there’d be tears in this one. She finally looked the part of a bride and he’d be able to walk her down the aisle as he had when they’d celebrated her Quinceañera. He stepped towards her in silence, rendered mute by the emotion swelling within his chest, and when he reached her, he took her hands in his, lifted them to his lips and placed a soft kiss on them.

Shortly thereafter, the five of them left the small room in the back of the church and began the walk down the hallway, stopping only when they’d reached the entrance where the wedding party stood waiting for them. The groomsmen were already there, their black three piece suits buttoned up, and their hair neatly combed. The three bridesmaids offered her warm smiles and then walked off to take their place in the procession. Verena stood beside her father, tucked away in a corner as they waited for the music to begin. They spoke softly, well, he spoke. He told her how he proud he was, how glad he was to be able to share in that moment with her, and how beautiful she looked. Verena remained quiet, offering him only a small smile in response as she willed herself to not cry. It was too early in the day to ruin her makeup.

They waited and waited and waited, until the Mariachi started playing. It was then that the pair exchanged a look, her father placed one last kiss on her forehead and they began to make their way down the aisle. The church was packed with family and friends, three hundred of them crammed into the seats that were meant to sit a maximum of 280, and those that didn’t fit into the pews, simply stood off to the side, holding up their cameras to capture the moment. Verena was shocked that everyone had shown up. She hadn’t thought everyone would be there for the mass, the reception, yes, but not the mass.

Her eyes moved around the room, taking in the faces that were intently staring at hers, and then, after surveying the space, she finally looked ahead, her eyes finally landed on Oscar. He wore a double breasted charcoal grey suit, his messy dark brown hair was neatly combed back, and even his moustache had been trimmed for the occasion. He was handsome. And the look he wore on his face was so overwhelming that it made her forget to breath and left her weak in the knees. It reminded her of the look he’d worn when they’d first made love, when they’d improvised a bed of cardboard atop the architecture building, Wurster Hall, that warm spring night. The only light had been the moon, it had illuminated their figures, softened his masculine features and as she walked towards him, she saw the nineteen year old boy that she’d fallen so passionately in love with.

Each step she took brought her ever closer to him, and when she finally reached the steps leading up the altar, she noticed the tears swimming in his eyes. It was then that her fears fully vanished. It was then that she came to terms with the fact that the man standing before him, although having his faults, loved her wholeheartedly and she loved him, she loved him despite their arguments, she loved him for what he was and how he treated her.

“Floresita (my little flower),” he whispered, referring to her by an affectionate nickname that derived from her middle name. “Eres un angel (You’re an angel).”

Verena parted her lips to speak, but the Priest interrupted, reciting the traditional words, “Doubly blessed is the couple which comes to the marriage altar with the approval and blessings of their families and friends. Who has the honor of presenting this woman to be married to this man?”

“Her mother and I do.”

Verena’s father then reached out for Oscar’s hand, holding it tightly as he then placed his daughter’s hand atop his. He offered them kind words before taking his seat beside his wife.

The ceremony was now underway. The psalms were sang, gospels uttered, and the readings were read by her older sister and his best friend. The ceremony moved at a steady pace and soon they entered the Rite of Marriage.

“Into this holy union, Verena Alejandra Louis Alvarado and Oscar Heriberto Alvarado, now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else ever hold your peace.”

There was silence.

“I require and charge you both, here in the presence of God, that if either of you, know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God’s Word, you do now confess it.”

Again, silence.

The Priest turned to Verena. “Verena, will you have this man to be your –”

“NO!” shouted a voice towards the back of the pews. “Stop!” shouted the person, scrambling to get out of the seats, unable to keep quiet. “They can’t get married! I object. I object!”

Verena craned her neck in direction of the screaming and there, running down the aisle, was her cousin, Leticia. She was the black sheep of the family, the one who drank heavily, the one who experimented with heavy drugs, the one who had three children by three different fathers, the one that didn’t take care of her children, leaving them to be raised by her parents.

Annoyed with her cousin’s outburst, Verena narrowed her eyes. “Are you drunk?” she inquired, gruffly.

“What? No! Okay, maybe a little, but –”

“Tia (aunt) Gloria,” Verena called to Leticia’s mother. “Come get Letty. She’s drunk and needs to go outside.”

“I'm not that drunk!” bellowed Leticia.

“Yes, you are.” Oscar spoke up, wanting to get rid of her as soon as possible.

“I'm not. Oscar, please don’t let them take me outside.” Leticia implored.

“You’re drunk and you’re making a scene so just stop this.”

“But I can’t,” she whimpered. “You can’t marry her. You don’t belong with her!”

“Letty, I'm not gonna ask you twice, LEAVE.” Verena dropped Oscar’s hand.

“I'm not leaving!” cried Leticia.

“LETTY!” hissed Verena. “Just stop this. Okay? Stop it! You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying so go outside and get some coffee.”

“I know what I'm saying!” argued Leticia.

“Then why shouldn’t Oscar marry me? Especially since we’re already married,” Verena was losing her patience.

“Because I love him!” proclaimed Leticia, defiantly.

“You love him?” Verena nearly laughed. “Honestly Letty, just go outside. I know that Oscar’s nice to you and the kids, but you don’t love him. Okay? You just think you do, because most men aren’t nice to you. So please just go outside and sober up.”

“I’m not going outside!” cried Leticia, defiantly. “I love him! I know I do!”

“You’re just drunk.” It was now Oscar’s turn to speak. “And you’re running your mouth without thinking about what you’re saying. Josh,” he turned to his best man. “Take her outside and get her some water.”

“Why are you being like this?” she sobbed. “I thought you loved me! Don’t you remember that night we spent together? Don’t you –”

At that, Verena froze.

“Oscar,” she whispered. “What’s Letty talking about?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “She’s drunk. She’s just running her mouth.”

“I’m not!” she bellowed. “Why don’t you tell her about that night? About when she went to New York for –”

“JOSH!” yelled Oscar. “Get her out of here.”

“No!” bellowed Verena. “She’s not going anywhere. Not until I find out what’s going on.”

Oscar reached out for her hand. “Floresita, don’t pay attention to her. She’s drunk. That’s it.”

“Did you sleep with her while I was in New York?” asked Verena, calmly. It was taking every ounce of strength to keep her emotions under control.

“What? Of course, not!” the right corner of his mouth began to twitch. He was lying.

“You’re lying.” Verena snatched her hand away from his. “You slept with Letty!”

“Verena just let me explain. I can explain this.” Oscar begged.

“What’s there to explain? You slept with Letty! Oh my God! You slept with her and then you slept with me? And we don’t use condoms. Oh no!” she angrily shook her head. “What if you’ve given me something? What if I have an STD because of her?”

“Why would I give you a STD?” inquired Leticia, gruffly.

“Because you’re a puta (whore)!” bellowed Verena, losing whatever control she had. “You’re twenty-one years old, you have three kids by three different men and you fuck any guy that SMILES AT YOU!”

“There’s no need for this language.” The Priest spoke, hoping to calm the raging bride down. “Calm down, Verena, please.”

“SHUT UP!” she yelled at him. “I won’t be told to fucking calm down when I’ve just found out that my husband slept with the family puta.”

“Don’t call me that!” Leticia inched closer to the altar.

“Everyone in the family calls you that!” cried Verena. “You’re the puta that got pregnant at fourteen. The puta that has a new man every week and always swears that he’s the one! For fucks sake, you’ve always been a pain in the ass, but this? This is going too far, even for you. Why would you do this to me? Tell me, Letty – why? What did I do to make you hate me so much? All I’ve ever been is kind to you. When everyone turned their back on you, I was the one that paid for your rehab; I’m the one that gives your parents some money so they can make do with your kids. And this is how you repay me?”

“I . . . I . . .” Leticia couldn’t find the right words to say.

“You disgust me.” Verena tore her gaze from Leticia, and spun around to face her fearful husband. “AND YOU!” she hissed. “You pressured me into getting married by the church because you wanted to make our love sacred, because you didn’t want to live in mortal sin anymore. That was what you kept telling me. You wanted to do things right, you wanted us to do things by the book, and this is the shit you do?”

“It only happened once.” He told her. “I was drunk and she came over to drop off something for you and it got out of hand, but nothing happened after. I told her I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

“The problem isn’t how many times it happened. The problem is that it happened and that you’ve made a fool out of me in front of EVERYONE that matters!” the tears of rage began to fall from her dark brown eyes. “I hate you! I hate you!”

“Floresita, don’t –”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped. “You don’t get to call me, Floresita, anymore.”

“But I'm your husband.”

“Not anymore,” her breathing hitched. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. I'm done. Done!” she grabbed at her engagement ring, at the wedding band from their first wedding, and yanked them off. “Take them. I don’t want them anymore!” she threw the rings at him and grabbed her dress, running down the steps of the altar with tears blinding her vision.

“Verena!” he shouted, running after her. “Verena, please just stop.” He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around, forcing her to say. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“That’s all you can say?” she spat. “I’ve given you the best years of my life! You’re the only man that I’ve ever been with and I was just about to swear eternal love to you! I built a fucking life around you and all you can say is sorry? FUCK YOU!” she pushed him away. “How dare you betray me like that? How dare you make a fool of me! Do you understand how fucked up this is? We were supposed to be happy, we were supposed to be good, and you fucked her while I was in New York! You fucked her and you’ve made me feel like such a bad person because I didn’t want to get married by the church. You pestered me into getting married when I didn’t want to, and it all makes sense now. Now I get why this didn’t feel right.”

“Whatever it is you’re gonna say, don’t say it,” pleaded Oscar. “I fucked up. I know I did. I take responsibility.”

“Well you kind of have to take responsibility for it!” she yelled. “I can’t take responsibility for you fucking Letty. She can’t take complete responsibility for it. You’re a grown man! You’re in control of your dick! And yet you allowed yourself to sleep with her, in our home. For fucks sake, Oscar, you cheated on me with my own family.” She grew quiet, but eventually went onto say, “I could’ve probably forgiven you if you’d fucked some stranger. That, maybe with some counseling, I could’ve got over. But this?” she said. “There’s no forgiving this. So I hope the night with her was worth losing me.”

“You know it wasn’t,” he said, a single tear streaming down his face.

“I know.”

Without saying anything further, she turned to leave. Oscar tried to run after her. He needed to convince her that not everything was lost. They could be better, they could make things right if she were to only put in the effort with him, and he was determined to do everything in his power to win her back, but he wasn’t able to chase after her. He was stopped by her enraged father, who delivered a devastating blow to the man he once proudly called his son-in-law.

And as that unfolded, Verena made her escape, she ran down the aisle, and threw open the large wooden doors. She’d been humiliated in front of her family, her friends, and her boss. Everyone had heard that her husband – that her soon to be ex-husband had slept with her cousin. They’d all borne witness to the destruction of her marriage, and she didn’t want to deal with the repercussions that the day would have. She didn’t want to receive condolences or see his face. So she did the only thing she could, she ran.