"I Do" by Veronica L. Grady

Eliza heard the dreaded song begin to play. Yes, yes, here I come, all dressed in white, she thought as “Here Comes the Bride” began to play from inside the chapel. The decoratively carved mahogany double doors swung open to reveal her in a stunning dress. The dress, an ornate ball gown, was made from silk taffeta. It had a swept-up look about it with its sweetheart neckline and natural waist, a bow resting on her hip. It was made with a white so clean and sharp; the only description that could do it justice was that it was the color of winter’s first snow. What a shame, she thought, that a dress so beautiful is being worn to a wedding so unholy.
Josh saw his bride first. As she began her slow march to the alter to give herself away, his jaw dropped in awe. She was more beautiful today than he had ever seen her. Not because of the makeup turning her eyes into smoky, smoldering, embers or her hair that mimicked both the gentle waves of the ocean and the flight of a majestic eagle. No, she wore makeup all the time, not like this but still makeup. It was the way that she walked to him, alone, signifying that this was her choice to freely make and she chose him. A way that was so pure and honest that it brought a tear to his eye. Half way down her walk, John noticed something. Her smile was fake. It did not reach her eyes. Something was very wrong.
As John continued to try and puzzle out what could be troubling his bride, Eliza continued her walk. She got three quarters of the way to the alter when something impossible happened. She tripped. Eliza never tripped. She stood stalk still for a moment, just as confused as John was about what had happened. Eliza had never tripped in her life. Not even as a toddler just learning the art of weight placement from one foot to the other. How did that just happen? Is that what tripping is? Eliza thought to herself. Tripping, stumbling, taking a wrong step. All kinds of words came flooding to the front of Eliza’s mind as she tried to put two and two together. It must be nerves, she thought. After all, what was about to happen would make anyone nervous.
Eliza reached the alter and gave John a smile like the one she wore down the aisle; fake. The priest began the service.
“We are gathered here today to witness the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Eliza and John would like to recite vows that they have written. John, why don’t you start things off?”
“Ok.” Answered John” “Eliza, when we met, I never thought you would be the one. You were tomboyish, rough, and tougher than anyone I knew. But as time went on, I learned to love you.”
As John continued, Eliza started to cry, another first. Not because of what John said, but where it was coming from. In those moments, John forgot everyone else in the world but her and spoke from somewhere so far into his heart that the room was transfixed and held in time. Not even the toddlers and babies fidgeted or moaned. As he went on, Eliza started to cry harder and harder. Why was I sent on this mission? Why am I the one that must fall in and out of love at a moment’s notice and then be able to pick up and start again just to be thrown back into the cycle? And why, why did he have to be different? Why did he have to fall in love? Why did I have to fall in love?
By the time John had finished, Eliza had pulled herself back together and refocused on what had to be done.
“Eliza, your turn.” the priest said.
“Ok, let’s see if I can top that.” Eliza said sending the room into a little wave of soft laughter. “John, when we first met, just a few months ago, I have to say I thought you were the most feminine wimp I had ever met.” Again, laughter. “But as I got to know you, I realized that sometimes feminine doesn’t mean weak or soft. Sometimes it just means sensitive and loving. And before we move on to the rest of our lives, I need to tell you that I’m sorry for everything that I have done and will do to hurt you, and I need you to know that I never mean to hurt, and that I never want to hurt you.”Elizabeth concluded. The room was silent. But not the silent like the one induced by John’s speech. This was a silence of confusion.
“Ok, that’s it.” she said.
“Uh, thank you for those, um, lovely words, John and, uh Eliza.” the priest said, also confused.
The priest quickly resumed the ceremony so as not to prolong the awkward silence. After reading from a bible he had been given from Eliza that was her first from when she was seven, he announced that it was now time for the exchanging of the rings.
“The couple has decided to exchange rings as the bride’s parents did.” the priest announced.
John and Eliza both held out their left hand and said five simple words to each other as the rings were slid onto their respective fingers.
“I will always love you.” they said in unison.

There was a strong and happy smile on John’s face but a weak and nervous one on Eliza’s accompanied by droplets of sweat and tears. They both stood waiting for the priest to continue with the service.
“Now, before they say I do, is there anyone here today that can see a reason that this man and this woman should not be made husband and wife, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“I do.” shouted Eliza.
“It’s not time for that yet dear.” the priest said with a chuckle.
“No, I mean I object.” she said while pulling a shiny black gun from under her garter.
John stared open mouthed, the priest turned ghostly pale, the assembled guests collectively gasped. After all, the bride is the last person you would expect to object at her own wedding.
“What’s going on?” exclaimed John.
“Like I said in the vows, I’m truly sorry for what’s going to happen.” Eliza uttered and she trained the gun on John.
A shot rang out and John dropped. Screams ripped through the air as people realized what had just occurred. Before questions could be asked and identities blown, Eliza ran out of the chapel crying, turning her ember eyes into black and brown streaks running down her face. As she burst through the doors out of the church, Eliza ran into The Boss.
“Good job, assassin number 1007634.” he said in a hushed tone.
“My name is Eliza Johansen. I like this name. It’s the one my mother gave me.” she said sharply.
“Not for long. You can’t have the name back again. You will be assigned a new one once we get back to Head Quarters. It is imperative you remain anonymous.” The Boss said plainly.
“I had it when I was born, then you changed it like 500 times and then you gave it back. I’m keeping it this time.” she said defiantly.
“That is out of the question assassin number 1007634.” he said firmly.
“What a shame.” Eliza said in a completely different mood.
“I’m glad you are willing to move on.” he said coolly.
“No, not for me losing my name again, but for you losing me. I’m sick of this job. I’m sick of pretending to fall in love. And most of all, I’m sick of what this job just made me do. I fell in love this time and I just killed him. That is the shame, not meaning to discredit my name of course.” Eliza’s voice shook as she said this and the tears welled up in her eyes, tears that would never get the chance to fall.
“You can’t quit. You know that.” said The Boss, a note of threat in his voice.
“Oh, I know.” Eliza said, challenging his threat.
In that instant, Eliza pulled up the gun that was still clutched in her hand and pointed it not at The Boss, but at her own heart. The last thought that went through Eliza Johansen’s head was: What a shame that a dress so beautiful is going to get so much blood on it.

The End