By Crystal Arbogast

-----The church is lovely. Sunlight filters through stained glass and casts rainbow shimmers inside. The organ music is low and mingles with the hum of the crowd seated inside.
-----She sits in the front row now, glancing nervously at the doorway, and then to her husband. His face is the same, stoic and satisfied.
-----His daughter has made a fine choice. His soon to be son-in-law was an up and coming star in the family firm. The young man's ambition mirrored his own at that age. He was particularly satisfied that his daughter had come to her senses and given up that photography nonsense. No, this was the way it was supposed to be. She would make a fine wife and keep the firm he had worked so hard to build in the family. Structure. That's what is important. Planning. You can't make a life without those things. His own marriage, family and business reflected just that.
-----She has told herself again and again that she would not cry. Hers would be tears of sorrow, not happiness, and she was afraid that once they started to flow, she could not stop. No, those tears were reserved for the times she was alone; that special place in the house where she could lock the door and crumple to the floor, head against the wall. Here, the tears would come. Her body would wrench with all the built up sadness and sorrow she had known for years. She would release all those pent up feelings until they were spent. Then, she could wash her face and play the part she had chosen all those years ago.
-----Her daughter had been the light of her life ever since she had been born. She was all she, herself, had ever hoped to be. When she had displayed a talent in photography while in college, they had talked for hours about the girl's dreams. She would travel and capture on film all kinds of wild, exotic places. She would travel the globe and sleep in places like Africa, while sending back photos of majestic elephants and the great cats in their entire splendor. From the pyramids of Egypt to the fiords of Norway, she would view the world through her daughter's eyes.
-----After she had been introduced to the young man her husband had hired, she grew afraid. She had recognized the look in his eyes all too well. In time, the camera had been tucked away in a closet. The conversations she had enjoyed so much grew more infrequent. As her husband's satisfaction grew, the light in her own eyes dimmed.
-----The organ music swelled and all heads turned to the door. The maid's gowns were lovely, but nothing matched the beauty of the bride. Her face glowed with happiness and her eyes locked with the one who would vow to cherish her forever.
-----As the tears welled up in her eyes, she wanted to run to the alter, grab her daughter by the arm, and drag her outside. Together, they would run to freedom. Her daughter would yank the veil off and toss it into the air. They would laugh hysterically and catch the next boat to anywhere else in the world.
-----Too late! She has already said "I do". Stop! Stop! Please, for the love of God! I must be strong for my child! Why can't I be strong?
-----The bride turns, arm tucked inside the arm of her husband. She is beautiful. The tears are flowing now. They are flowing as they do when she is alone. Why can't she be there now?
-----In the night, she finds the camera in her daughter's closet. She holds it gently against her chest. As her vision blurs, she carries it to her secret place and closes the door.