The Final Act

On the 22nd of December 1934, that green dress was left crumpled on the bed. I sat in front of the vanity mirror, mindlessly combing through my already styled hair in a dress of the same shade as Laurie's eyes. I was ridiculously calm and convinced myself that it'd be all right. In the end, there'd be a better and brighter future waiting on the other side of the country, right?

In truth, there was nothing in my mind.

It was time. I stood up and made my way down the hall. The perpetually empty foyer was populated by guests that I failed to recognize. I wondered why they were invited: perhaps they were Thomas' business partners who wanted to stay on his good side, or they were here because they had no other choice. As I walked down the grand stairs and through the crowd, some of them greeted me. They gave generous compliments on the decor and how wonderful it was for me to host the wedding party in the Bel Air house. I replied with a smile and thanked them for their kind words. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lindley smoking his pipe. When he noticed my stare, he raised his glass and nodded. I wanted to approach him and ask about Charlie. There was no point in such a fruitless talk, however, for this was the final act.

Wesley was found fixing his tie in a guest room. He looked handsome, poised, and uncomfortable in the new suit custom-made by one of Thomas' favorite tailors. Seeing me, he let out a faint smile. I was worse at pretending than him between the two of us. Pretending was an art that would take a skilled and talented actress like Lizzie to master. I was no actress. I was merely someone who was finally stripped away of all care. He knew, as well as I did, what was to come on this day, the day he was set to marry my sister-in-law. There'd be no church, or the altar, for Thomas wasn't a faithful believer like I once was, and they'd be married at Thomas' discretion. Meanwhile, I'd stand on the side. I'd clap and cheer after they exchanged their vows and sealed the union with a kiss. I'd smile as if I was genuinely happy for them.

I fixed his tie. As my palms slid down his silk tie and away from him, he squeezed my hands. The door was ajar, and I was worried someone would walk in. But he didn't care for the panic in my eyes and held on.

"Anne," he said in a low and sincere tone, "it'll be fine."

"I know," I said, slipping my hands out of his grip, "I know."