by F. G. Adams
Why couldn’t he understand? The chance of dying if I waited and tried to get pregnant was almost ninety percent. Too great a number to ignore. At first, he went along with it. Said I was the only thing that mattered to him in this world. Everything would turn out fine. We could adopt. Those were all big promises from a small weasel of a man.
I had begged him to listen. But he wouldn’t hear of it. It was all or nothing. And I no longer had what he wanted.
I slowly rise and make my way down the aisle, glancing around at the decorations one last time. Today was supposed to be my forever day. My happy moment. The one you dream of as a little girl. But it didn’t happen for me.
I go to the bridal room to change. I stare in the full-length mirror at the intricately woven lace and buttons on the delicate handmade dress I’m wearing. I maneuver my fingers into the seams and yank hard, shredding the exquisite fabric from my body. The same way he ripped open my heart.
As I’m driving away from the church, I see a sign. “We need nurses.” In fine print near the bottom it says, “Join the Army goarmy.com." I’m intrigued. I need a fresh start out of Texas. I know enough that I would enlist as an officer.
I pass by a local barbershop with a red sign blinking “Open” and pull over to park.
When I walk inside, the previous chatter suddenly ends.
“Hello, darlin’. How can I help ya?”
“I would like a haircut, please.”
An elderly gentleman ushers me forward. “Have a seat, little lady, and tell me what ya want done,” he says, turning the chair to face the mirror and laying the nylon cape over my shoulders.
“Shave it, sugar. All of it.”
“But, young lady. You’ve got golden locks down your back that women would kill to have. I’m sure ya…”
“Where I’m headed, I won’t be needing it. I want it gone.”
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