Page 93 of Third Time Lucky

‘Excellent idea,’ Madi says, dropping the box without care onto the ground and parking the suitcase beside it. ‘Maybe we should chant that Lil Jon song like Sandra Bullock in that movie with Betty White.’

‘If we’re out here hollerin’ about balls to the walls, I bet the police would be called, so – no.’

I drop the dresses from my arms. They land at my feet with a swoosh.

‘OK… What do you want to start with first?’ she asks.

Without hesitation, I reach for the wedding dress, a strange mix of excitement and trepidation surging inside me. It’s still beautiful and looks so innocent, yet it carries a weight of sorrow that I can feel in my bones.

As I hold the cursed garment in my hands, memories flood back of shattered dreams – dreams that, in reality, were nightmares – but it took the most humiliating moment of my life for me to see them. But tonight, right here in this backyard, with the warm glow of the fire casting dancing shadows around us, liberation awaits.

I step closer to the fire pit, the flames crackling and reaching out as if eager to consume the dress. With a deep breath, I let go of all the pain and heartache the dress represents as I toss it into the heart of the fire. The tulle of the skirt catches quickly, and sparks flare into the air around us as flames devour it voraciously.

‘My God,’ Madi says, clapping her hands with glee. ‘It’s like we doused it in gasoline.’

‘Curses must burn hot.’

‘Next up, Vegas,’ Madi says. ‘Do you want to burn the entire suitcase?’

I shrug. ‘It’s not like I can’t afford to replace it, and the last thing I want is to go on a future vacation and be reminded of the last place it went.’

She lifts the suitcase and tosses it on the dress without another question. The fire roars to life as the leather catches, sending black smoke billowing into the air. I watch as the flames consume the remnants of a life I once thought I wanted, a life that turned out to be a mirage.

Madi and I stand side by side, watching the flames dance and flicker in the darkness. The heat warms my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth spreading through my chest, a feeling of release and renewal.

The engagement dress is next. I bought this thing specifically because I knew he was proposing that night, and I wanted to look amazing. I did, according to Mitzi and Brandon. What I don’t understand is how he had so much emotion while asking me to be his bride (tears were involved), when later that night, he probably screwed some other girl without a care in the world that his actions could destroy me.

‘I can’t believe that bastard was so charming while blatantly lying for two years,’ I moan, tossing the silky garment into the flames. ‘I hope he’s feeling this like a voodoo doll right now.’

‘By way of a burning bush in his pants – like an STD,’ Madi says with a laugh.

For a moment, Jayson’s look is pure fear as we cackle like witches around the fire.

The fire eagerly devours the engagement dress, the delicate fabric igniting quickly and disintegrating in a whirlwind of flames.

We glance down at the last burnable. A brown Louboutin shoebox – it’s a small size (6), much like Brandon’s honesty.

‘Do you want to do this one memory at a time, or should we just toss the whole box in?’

In a sudden burst of determination, I grab the box from Madi’s hands, and without a word, I fling it into the fire pit. I don’t want to see a single thing in it again. The sound of crackling cardboard mixes with the roar of the flames as the box is engulfed. Embers fly into the air, carrying with them the last remnants of a relationship that should have never been.

As we watch the box burn, I feel a weight lifting off my shoulders. A strange mix of emotions swirls inside me – relief, sadness, anger and freedom.

‘One more thing,’ I say, pulling a pack of photos from my hoodie pocket.

‘What’s that?’ Madi asks.

‘The photosHere Comes the Bridemagazine sent,’ I tell her, ready to pitch them into the blaze.

‘You got them?!’ she asks with surprise.

I nod. ‘A while ago. Mitzi paid them to kill the story, but with her generous offer to make up for it, they asked if she’d like the photos.’

‘Wait!’ she says, grabbing my hand. ‘Let me see those really quick.’

I hand them to her.

‘Why?’

---