A Guillotine of Satin and Lace

Las Vegas is a crazy city. How can one place be an oxymoron to itself? So beautiful, almost pure full of light and love but so filthy and dirty, full of degradation and perversion.

I think these thoughts as I look out the window of my hotel balcony. I’m wearing a wedding dress, drinking champagne out of the bottle, but toasting nothing. The hotel suite is opulent and beautiful, in and of itself a promise, a better life, less worry, happily ever after. I wondered how many brides had stood on this balcony wondering these very same things, the wood floors polished and beautiful, everything shiny and new.

I heard a knock at the door but I wouldn’t answer. The dress felt like a vise. A guillotine made of satin and lace. I pulled it from my body and threw it on the bed, feeling a physical sigh of relief. Was it the thought of marriage so overwhelming or the fear of failure that made that dress so heavy. I stepped in the hot tub and let my head slip under the water. I wanted to hide in there forever… the bounds of he city, the land, the music, voices were muted. Peace. Even the perfumes of the room, of all the congratulatory vases of flowers had become overwhelming and a reminder of what was at stake. Every vase magnifying another life that will be affected by my decision.

I love weddings, and I hate disappointments.

Michelle Kemp