In Her White Dress by Karla Bernardo
The tolling of the bells filled the air with unease and anxiety. She stood by the door in her immaculate white dress adorned with lace and ribbons with a bouquet of white flowers in hand. The wind was blowing her wavy black hair as it cascaded down her face, her shoulders. Her mother told her the previous night that she should pull her hair up in a bun; she always looked more radiant that way. But she knew James always wanted her hair down – he liked putting it behind her ear when it fell to her eyes and cheeks. It was one of his many little gestures that she secretly adored. They met in college, as most of their couple-friends did. She was this bubbly, friendly psychology major, meanwhile he’s the introverted comic book nerd from engineering. To say that they were an unlikely match would be an understatement: she couldn’t get through a horror movie, he loved suspense. She was part of the campus radio station, meanwhile he’d rather stay in his room with his books. She had a penchant for collecting antiques and vintage items, he can’t live without his computer and PSP. She was loud, he was silent. They weren’t even compatible according to the juvenile grade school game of F.L.A.M.E.S. (which one of her closest friends did at the back of her notebook, much to her chagrin) because apparently they could only be “Friends.” And yet for everything that could drive them away from each other was this strong, unexplainable attraction sparked they shared and has kept them together. She could feel the apprehension shivering down her spine. For all her poise, Sara was also a very insecure person. She really couldn’t handle being put on the spotlight all the time (which explains why she enjoys being on the radio). There is an apparent buzz coming from inside the church. She knows they are all waiting for her, and it makes her feel uneasy. It’s a big day for her, and everyone wants to see how she is, how she looks. But a part of her does not want to get in. She taps her beige platform heels nervously as she waits. “I don’t understand why you’re always so fidgety,” James once asked her. “For someone so sure of herself, you are such a worry-wart.”
“I just don’t like things not going my way,” she responded.
It was one of those rainy afternoons as they were stuck in traffic along the congested roads of Edsa. Little black shadows of droplets covered her legs. She hugged herself a little and felt the warmth of his jacket. She steals a glance at him with his eyes firmly planted on the road.