Elizabeth pushed through the hedge, tripping on her long and lacy white gown. She wore casual blue jeans under the skirt, but her only shirts were in the huge suitcase she struggled to pull after her. She wished, again, that she had found the courage to leave sooner than minutes before the guests were to arrive.
Elizabeth turned for one last look at her home. The white mansion loomed over a large, perfectly manicured lawn, which was currently littered with white pavilions and people working. Elizabeth faced back toward the little service road separating her side lawn from a small wood. For the first time, she noticed the two caterers standing in the middle of the road staring at her. They had just taken the huge, 12 layer, heavily frosted, wedding cake out of a van.
As she stared at the men's astonished faces, her fianc�'s head peeked from behind an oak tree. Elizabeth grimaced, then softly said to the caterers, "Could you put that down and leave? And don't tell anyone about this."
The confused caterers set down the pink flowered cake on the asphalt, then walked away. Elizabeth had meant for them to at least put it back in the truck. Zach came up to her, and anxiously grinned. She simply nodded.
Zach sat in the open doorway of the van. Elizabeth edged around the cake to sit beside him. She cleared her throat, "I'm leaving."
He laughed, "Liz, you can't leave. I know how you are with money."
She glared at him, "I wouldn't be that bad if I really didn't have the money."
"Maybe."
"Really."
"Maybe. Last month, you were given a Porsche and a tour of Europe for your eighteenth birthday. You've been rich your entire life."
"I could change," Elizabeth shifted tone, "My family wants the good old days when owning half of New England made them better than the rest of America. Your family remembers being poor, and now everything they do is to prove that they're just as good as my family. This marriage was never about me, but earning my own way will be."
They stared at the cake, and perspiration beaded on Elizabeth's face. The day was too hot for beaded satin. Again, she was forced to break the silence, "I loved you when I was just dating you, but I was never meant to marry you."
Zach shrugged, "Yeah."
"If I were more used to saying no to my parents, I could put my foot down instead of just throwing a hissy fit--and then maybe they'd listen to me," Elizabeth said.
"Mine wouldn't."
By now both had memorized every detail of the monstrous cake, but they stared some more. Rushing off into the world, sure she could take care of herself, had held a certain sense of heady rebellion. Actually sitting and thinking stuff like, "How much is an electric bill?" was more solid, and terrifying.
A lone fly buzzed through the heavy air to land on a petal of icing. Elizabeth moaned. Her freedom was up against obstacles like unemployment and debt. She whispered, "I'm a rich brat. Why do I have to worry about stuff like money and security?"
Suddenly her stomach twisted around in her body. Elizabeth bent over and vomited, splashing yellowish bile on her dress, the cake, and Zach's shoes. He pulled back, then tentatively patted her shoulder.
Elizabeth spit, hitting near the top of the cake. Zach took a deep breath and asked, "Liz, would you just go through the ceremony with me? You could pretend we're not really married. We could get a nanny and different houses, like your parents."
Elizabeth burst into tears, "Yeah. I guess."