The day I went to get divorced, dressed as a bride.
When my husband told me he wanted a divorce, I went straight to the wardrobe and pulled out my wedding dress.
What on earth are you doing? he asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Im wearing this to court, I replied, giving the dress a good shake to rid it of dust.
Have you lost your mind? You cant show up to the divorce dressed as a bride!
Of course I can. And youll put on your wedding suit. If you promised me forever in that suit, you can promise me forever apart in it too.
I watched as he searched for a counter-argument, found none, and twenty minutes later he was rummaging at the bottom of the wardrobe, grumbling as he hunted down his suit.
When we arrived at the magistrates court, the security staff actually froze. One woman shouted, Congratulations! and another nudged her, whispering, Dont be daft, theyre here to get divorced!
The judge nearly fell off his chair when he saw us walk in. Meshrouded in a white dress, veil and all. Hima tuxedo, bow tie, and polished shoes.
Madam, the judge managed, desperately trying not to laugh, may I ask why youre dressed as a bride?
Because, Your Honour, I explained, keeping my dignity firm, this man promised me till death do us part while wearing this very suit. Since death hasnt caught up with us yet, and hes ending the contract early, let him do it looking right into the eyes he lied to.
My husband looked at me, tears brimming.
I never lied to you, he whispered. I really did love you on that day.
And now? I asked, my voice trembling.
The judge cleared his throat.
Ill tell you what. Im giving you thirty minutes. Take a walk, talk things over. If you return still dressed like this and dead set on divorcing, well carry on. But Ive got a feeling two people who go to this much trouble still have plenty left to discuss.
We stepped out into the corridor. He reached out and straightened my veil, which had gone a bit askew.
You look beautiful, he said softly. Just like you did back then.
And you look rather handsome, I admitted. Even if you are a fool.
So there we stood, in all our wedding finery, in the middle of a court, not quite sure what to do with ourselves.
What if he began, cautiously, instead of divorcing, we found some wedding cake and reminded ourselves why we got married in the first place?
Maybe true love is thisdressing for divorce just as you dressed for your wedding day. Or perhaps its simply that were two hopelessly dramatic souls who never learned to do anything by halves.
Sometimes, its only when were standing at the edge of letting go that we remember why we held on.
