A baby cries in the background.

“Well, it’s complicated. He’s still married.”

The silence makes the line fizz between us, all the electricity in the wires suddenly roaring.

“Well, this is a disaster,” she mutters.

I’ve already done the shrinking within. The wife is small inside of me now, a chess piece, a queen carved of ivory nestled between my ribs.

VISION

I vomit small islands into the toilet. Then I sit perfectly still as a woman applies my makeup. She is close enough for this to be an intimacy, her proximity to my skin, my bad teeth.

“Big, special day,” she murmurs, colors scattered around her — foundations, blushes, eyeliners, mascaras.

She blends the colors onto my face, the face over my face, the new mask.

“How do you feel today? Excited?”

“Yes, of course! Just my nerves...”

I wear a white satin robe and the small sweat of a bride.

“You’re so cute,” she hums. “Don’t worry, love is beautiful. Your whole life! Together!”

My mother appears over her shoulder, eyes painted.

“Are you sure she’s using the right colors, Cassie?” she asks. “Are you sure those are the ones you want?”

A photographer snaps a picture.

“Don’t take my picture! My face is all wrinkles!” my mother snaps. “Kidding, kidding, but just don’t.”

The woman moves on to my hair, the heat of the curling iron cutting through the robe, the scent of my burning hair lacing the room.

“Gosh, how beautiful,” my mother says. “Are you sure you don’t want to put your hair up? I always thought you’d put your hair up!”

My hair curls down around my shoulders. “I’m sure,” I say.

“It’s gown time,” the woman whispers, final touches on my hair done.

“OOOOOOOH!” my mother shrieks as the camera flashes again.

“CAPTURED! So realistic!” the photographer calls.

“Come here,” my mother says.

I move closer to my gown, which hangs lifeless on the hanger, sparkling in the sun.

“Now, let’s get that robe off,” my mother says. “Slowly, slowly.”

I shed the robe, standing in my white satin underwear set as she and the woman gently pull down the gown and unzip it slowly.

“Now, in you go,” my mother says.

I step into the open foaming mouth of the gown. My mother pulls the bodice up around me and pulls the zipper up just as slowly. She turns me around to face her.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Just oh my god.” Another camera flash.

“Come here,” she whispers, clenching my hand, drawing me to the mirror. The gown is heavy on my body, as if made of coin.

“Are you ready to see?” she asks. “Yes,” I say.

She spins me around by the shoulders, her nails pressing into my skin.

“Would you look at my perfect daughter?”