Chapter 11 - Before the Vows
The hallway outside the dressing suite smelled like hairspray and fresh lilies. I could hear the string quartet warming up through the floor vents, low and uneven, and a coordinator with a headset kept walking past with a clipboard pressed to her chest. I waited until she turned the corner before I knocked once and pushed the door open.
Sabrina was alone. That surprised me for half a second, though it shouldn't have. The bridesmaids' dresses were hung in a row by the window, the chairs still dented where they'd sat. She stood in front of the long mirror in her gown, her veil pinned back off her face, adjusting an earring. When she saw me in the glass, her hands stilled.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The lock didn't click. I didn't touch it. I didn't want her to think I was trapping her.
"You've got a minute?" I said.
She turned, smoothing the front of her dress. Her hair was pulled up, clean and curled. Her makeup was done perfectly. She looked calm in the way people look when they've decided nothing is going to move them.
"Of course," she said. "Come in."
I walked closer so the light from the vanity hit my head straight on. I hadn't put the scarf back on after I showed Michael. My scalp was bare and pink in patches, the stubble catching under the bulbs. I didn't look away. I let her see it.
I kept my voice low. "I woke up this morning and my head had been shaved. She shaved my head."
For a beat she just looked at me. Then she glanced down at my bare feet in the robe I'd changed out of hours ago — I was in my dress now, but I'd left my shoes off on purpose — and then back up to my face.
"I didn't touch you."
It was quick and flat. One sentence. She didn't blink after she said it.
I nodded like I'd heard her. I didn't argue it. I'd come in with a plan not to push past what I could prove, and I stuck to it.
I sat down slowly on the edge of the ottoman because standing that close was making my legs shake. The air in the room was too warm. I could feel sweat along the back of my neck.
"I found hair in my bathroom sink," I said. "Not all of it was cleaned up. Short, gray. Mine. And the hand towel by my bed was damp, like someone had wiped the clippers off."
Sabrina picked up her bouquet from the table and held it with both hands. White roses. The stems were wrapped tight in ribbon. She ran her thumb along the edge of the ribbon and didn't answer right away.
"Did you tell Michael?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "He saw."
Her mouth tightened for just a second. She set the bouquet back down and checked her reflection again, though she didn't need to.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," she said. "Really. But I was in my room all night. The girls were with me until twelve."
I didn't point out she hadn't been asked where she was. I just breathed and let the quiet sit there. The quartet stopped and started again downstairs. Somebody laughed out in the hall.
She reached for her lipstick, then put it down without opening it. Her hands were steady, but she kept moving them — dress, bouquet, earring, dress again.
"I know this morning has been hard," she said. "Can we talk after? They're starting in five minutes."
It wasn't unkind. It was final. She walked to the door and opened it a few inches, letting the hallway noise in. The coordinator's voice came through, calling places for the bridal party.
May you like
I stood. My feet were cold against the wood floor. I stopped next to her on my way out, close enough to see the powder along her hairline.
I didn't say anything else. There was nothing left that wouldn't make it worse. She held the door for me, and I walked out into the bright hall with my head uncovered and everyone watching.
