Evergreen

by Jenna Taylor

 

It was her wedding day.

It was Berdy Mard’s wedding day.

And Lena wore that damn Versace white dress.

“What the hell are you wearin’?”

Berdy asked Lena this about halfway down the hedge-trimmed aisle, stopping and staring at her as if she were trying to weigh her sister’s soul. Berdy threw the delicately arranged bouquet behind her to cross her arms. Lena’s curled hair curtained her eyes as she questioned what was wrong. A stir began in the sea of suits and dresses, Mama and Papa and cousins and aunties and uncles all talking about Berdy. The chatter, gasps, and slight giggles began to echo through the open air of the venue, circling the gathering and bouncing off the trees. Berdy could hear them all.

The guests shifted in the cheap, plastic-cream seats weighed down in the soil. The one time they didn’t talk good about Lena was to talk bad about Berdy, but now the talking had stopped completely. A couple people cleared their throats, others sighed or readjusted in the drying grass.

“Well Jesus, Berdy! Who gives a damn? Just marry the son’ bitch already.” Papa yelled. The forest of pine trees that surrounded the venue seemed to be waiting for her response, as if nature itself was going to whisper it in her ear if she let it.

“Berdy, don’t worry, you’re the only beautiful woman I see,” Daren, Berdy’s soon to be husband, offered. His buzz cut made this reassurance feel like a soldier’s promise to return home, and for a moment Berdy felt anchored.

“I know that Daren,” Berdy slowly muttered, squinting and scrunching her freckled nose while glaring at the pastor, “I ain’t said anything about beauty in the first place.” The pastor’s dark attire made him seem to blend in with the shadows of the pines behind him, as if he was trying to hide. Berdy could feel him judging her. Her thoughts were starting to spiral and Berdy grew hot with anxiety. She could swear the pastor was laughing at her, so was Daren, so were Mama and Papa and cousins and aunties and uncles and everyone.

Berdy examined the rustic venue around them, feeling the breeze hit her hair and pick up the copper strands. She watched the rusted arch above Daren and the pastor begin to sway with the trees. It seemed like an invitation.

“Obviously you must be lyin’, Daren. I ain’t said she’s prettier than me with that skanky dress. You just said that ‘cause you think Lena has a pretty little figure, don’t you?” Berdy started marching down the aisle, dress bouncing, tears and grinding teeth obscured by curled hair. The audience gasped. Berdy’s mother-in-law tried to grab her wrist, her hand a skeletal limb with designer black gloves and jewelry to hide the wrinkles.

“Get the hell off me you slag,” Berdy offered in response to the cold touch, spitting on the woman’s gloved hand.

“Berdy, dammit! Now you quit it with all this nasty behavior and leave the poor woman ‘lone.” There went Papa again. Berdy stopped facing Daren to look at him. Papa stood at 6’3”—a big man—you could hear it in his voice. From her position three feet in front of the altar, Berdy looked expectantly back at Daren. His green eyes looked at her with tired disbelief as he shook his head.

“No, Berdy, I don’t think that. You’re perfect for me, I promise. You’re the most beautiful woman to me no matter what you’re wearin’.” Daren knew how to calm Berdy; tell her what she needed to hear. Berdy ran towards him, away from Papa. Now the couple stood hugging, the audience silent as Daren’s mother walked out of the venue crying.

The silence continued as Daren whispered comforting words to Berdy, the crowd settled then looked around awkwardly.

“Berdy, sweetheart? Maybe now that you’re feelin’ a little better let’s see your beautiful wedding. Okay, hun?” Though Berdy felt like lashing out, Mama always had a type of medicine in her voice, the kind that would make Berdy feel better about anything. Her soft smile was something Berdy could never dream of fighting against.

“Yeah Mama, okay.” Berdy turned and smiled, finally looking like the shining bride she had always wanted to be. As she turned her gaze from Mama, she noticed Lena holding the arm of Daren’s mother. She was comforting her in the overhang of the warm-lit ballroom, and Berdy took this as Lena being a bitch again.

“You’re not allowed in my wedding anymore, go find a way back home. I don’t wanna see you two again!” Berdy howled, locking eyes with Lena. The dress Lena wore left nothing to the imagination, and Berdy noticed it appeared a little whiter than her own from this far away. “Buncha fuckin’ whores,” Berdy mumbled, to which Daren suddenly took up her hands, his expression growing serious.

“Hey. I know you’re frustrated right now, but that doesn’t mean you can keep saying things like that. Especially to my mother.”

“Whatever, you don’t even care about gettin’ married anymore I bet. I look so ugly now.” Berdy began to cry when she looked down and saw grass stains on her dress. The dress was ruined. She ripped her hands out of his and wiped her dark eyeliner on the fading fabric. Nothing was ever gonna work out for her, not even her wedding day. Berdy wanted an earthquake to swallow them all whole, she wanted everyone to see how unforgiving her life was when she wanted something.

The trees seemed to taunt Berdy now, flaunting their natural power against her own. Her anger and anxiety began to infest every thought that appeared, gnawing at her from the inside out. Her dress seemed to brown and curl at the seams. Daren, unsure how to help Berdy any longer, went to console his mother.

Some guests had resorted to the cocktail bar set up near the entrance to the ballroom, and pointed at her with drunk smiles. Berdy couldn’t stand the continuous mockery that chained her to its molten center any longer. She thought she might go insane, she felt like she was going to throw up.

People shook their heads, some even sighed or mumbled under their breath, thinking it was just another Berdy blowup. Berdy realized no one cared about how hard she had it. They had all gone to console Lena and the mother, then drink and laugh at her all together. Again, a deep anger manifested in Berdy’s stomach, seeming to burn a hole in her throat. Berdy collapsed to the floor, covering her face and soon grabbing at her head and neck. She needed water as if there was none left in her body. Mama came over to console Berdy by rubbing her back, then pulled her hand away quickly as Berdy’s skin was scorching hot.

“Goodness, sweetheart, you need to calm down. You’re gonna get sick at this rate.”

Berdy took a deep breath knowing Mama might get hurt, and tried her best to stay calm. She cooled, and it seemed as though visible steam had evaporated off her body. As she lifted her head, all she could see was Lena, Daren, and Daren’s mother huddled together in the reception hall with a crowd of her wedding guests. Lena placed a crafty hand on Daren’s back, looking towards Berdy and shaking her head. Berdy, unable to hold back any longer, exploded.

It hit Mama first, burning straight through her like a mannequin in an active firework display. Mama’s bleach blonde hair had disappeared from her body in an instant. Seeing how she had completely fucked her life up already with Mama now gone, Berdy decided to keep the fire going further and further. A terrible black smoke rose from the plastic chairs as Berdy’s fury rushed through them, consuming the beautiful greenery in her path. The bar soon exploded into flames, pieces of glass and guests' clothes dancing in the breeze as their bodies dropped to the ground and screamed out in agony. The fire spurted out in little segments across the grassy hillside, seeming to stop at the edges of the pines.

Papa ran in front of Lena and Darren’s family, arms extended as he stared down the burning aisle towards her. Papa looked so silly now, no longer the threatening form that yelled at her. She smiled, then laughed, happy that she was taken seriously for her frustration.

Berdy whipped around to the pastor, who by now had said several prayers and was signaling the sign of the cross. His chants were distracting her from the repentance of the guests, and she would not tolerate it. The pastor had gathered the courage to call her the Antichrist, Berdy shrugged. She let the flames burn a hole through his mouth.

The pines lulled over Berdy, like Papa used to before Lena was born. They felt familiar and comforting for a moment until Berdy’s eyes caught the smoke trails left from her actions. She screamed incoherently, bawling and spreading fire through the field as though it were glitter. She turned and ran towards Papa, trying to find comfort from what she had done to herself. Papa ran inside the reception hall with Lena, Darren, and his family. He seemed to be making a hurried phone call as he periodically peered out at Berdy coming closer.

Berdy froze in the middle of the field, halfway between the building of terrified survivors and her ceremony. Was he seriously calling the police on his own daughter during her wedding day? Didn’t Papa ever care about her safety? Why would he want to get rid of her? Papa was starting to guide Lena and the guests towards exits, ordering them around as if it were a flimsy backup plan for her losing her shit. The pines were staring at her again, encouraging her in a way that was vicious, taunting.

Berdy fixated on Daren, who was horrified.

“You piece a’ shit! Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck your stupid family an’ everyone else here too ‘cause it’s my wedding! My wedding. Berdy fuckin’ Mard’s wedding. And you,” Berdy shrieked with a smile, scanning the ballroom with her finger, “will not ruin my big day.”

A sudden calmness had washed over Berdy after saying this, feeling as though she was preaching what she knew to be true. She closed her eyes and smiled, holding out her arms. Berdy hummed the bridal chorus and let the heat escape her palms to engulf the room filled with the screaming guests and family. She could hear the pine trees swaying, singing with her. Berdy didn’t look to see if Lena was dead when she turned around and walked back up the aisle. On her way, Berdy found the bouquet she had thrown earlier and picked it up, flowers nearly crisp but miraculously holding on. Berdy smiled, having her own version of the perfect processional. It had been about five minutes since Berdy let her anger be known, and as she sat in the dry grass singing she could hear faint sirens coming from beyond the ring of trees.