Glitch

"Gerty, Honey, please leave the dog alone and go wash your hands; we need to go now."

I reluctantly take my hand from the puppy's mouth - I've become the Labrador's favourite chew toy - and obediently get to my feet. I see my aunt suppress a wince when she's confronted by a full-length view of me, but she doesn't say anything.

We've come to a mutual understanding.

I've decided that Auntie deserves an award for her patience and self-control. I know that, for some reason, my outfits drive her crazy. She, in turn, knows that driving her crazy is never my intention. We came to a truce last year after she had the doctor run more tests for possible brain damage, not an unreasonable fear, based on the circumstances. The specialist assured her that my brain is perfectly healthy, but in some ways, just very differently wired from those of most other people.

Auntie had been visibly relieved to hear that... again... and we came to an agreement that six days a week, I can dress up in whatever I want, provided that it is decent, but when we go to church on Sundays, I have to wear one of the outfits she provided for the purpose.

"You don't want to get more attention than the Lord in His own house, do you, Honey?"

Of course, I don't want to shine brighter than the Lord, though I know that He wouldn't have a problem with the way I dress. Still, I don't want to be a distraction for His other visitors.

I have absolutely no problem with the outfits Auntie bought me. They are tasteful, fashionable and quite pretty, they simply don't inspire me, and I don't quite feel like myself when I'm wearing them. I am happy to wear them since they please her, but only for the duration of church services or other special occasions when she needs me to look less like... well... myself.

I do not, however, have a clue what it is about my own outfits that make my aunt think of them as a distraction.

After drying my now puppy-spit-free hands, I run to catch up with my family and dive into the back seat of the car just before my uncle starts the engine.

"Seriously, it's like the glitter fairy puked on you!" Allie complains, elbowing me to make more room for herself. Even though she's older than me by almost seven months, Allie is the smallest of us three girls. She is, therefore, obligated to sit in the middle section of the back seat, with Sindy and me on either side of her.

Frowning, I look down at myself. I don't get it; there isn't even so much as one speck of glitter on me.

"Leave her alone," Sindy hisses at her younger sister, causing Allie to snap her tongue angrily.

"Seriously! Pampering people is not doing them any favours, you know?"

"Alexandra, would you like to walk?" Uncle Steve seldom says anything, and he is especially silent whenever I'm around. I vaguely remember him as being very funny and talkative before, but I could be remembering it wrong. I misremember many things. His warning, said in a low, soft voice, silences his daughter instantly.

I cringe. I hate causing discord.

I know my presence in their home is hard on Uncle and intolerable for Allie. I can understand my uncle having difficulty seeing me every day, but I'm not sure why Allie is always so filled with venom towards me.

We used to be so close...

Lowering my head, I shift away from my cousin in an attempt to give the girl as much room to herself as possible. A quick glance causes me to see Sindy press her lips together. She is really angry and struggling to keep it under control. I know that if we weren't in the car, she would've been having a go at Allie right now. It makes me feel even worse. I hate it when they fight.

Trying not to draw attention to what I'm doing, I gradually slide down on the seat until I'm basically lying on my tailbone. It's not comfortable, but it's making me less visible to everyone... at least, that's what I'm hoping.

We're on our way to Phantom's Rest for the opening ceremony of the week-long Festival of Life... or no... Birth... or... Mating? No, probably not... though some people always tend to think it is, and many babies get born nine months after the festival. There are also many real weddings and engagements happening during and after the festival, though everybody says that it is not what the festival is intended for. I'm not so sure. I'm really not entirely clear on what it's all about or how it started, but it is fun.

Last year I married Sindy and the year before that I...

A dark cloud slips over my mind, and I close my eyes, willing my heartbeat to calm down and my breathing to become normal. The darkness surrounding me is like a movie screen, ready to play out all the worst memories of my life. Memories I've worked hard to shut out. I hurriedly open my eyes again, letting the light in, seeing my fingers tightly clutching at the material of my skirt.

I'm wearing a long skirt today because I'm a bride and I like the idea of a bride wearing a long skirt... if I'm that bride. Other brides can wear whatever they want.

I was probably supposed to wear white or cream, with lace and ribbons, like Sindy and Allie. They truly are the most breathtaking brides, and they are not even wearing real wedding gowns, just simple, breezy white dresses with touches of colour. A pink frill along the neckline and a matching sash for Allie. Gold and red flowery sprigs on the bodice for Sindy. So beautiful.

Thinking about these beautiful things is smoothing out my heartbeat and clears my mind of the fog that sometimes swallows it to a point where I black out completely. The year before last, I didn't go to the festival because my brain hadn't caught up with my body yet. It was still fast asleep.

I trace the lavender and pink paisley pattern of my skirt, following the gold and light green pathways, twining with silver. It is my most precious skirt. Auntie bought it for me one day to cheer me up. It is not her taste at all; in fact, she must find it quite hideous, but she often spontaneously comes home with garments that contradict her taste purely to cheer me up.

I decided to be a demure bride today, so I'm wearing a pastel mauve t-shirt with a creamy green low-cut spaghetti-strap top over it. Neither of my tops has any patterns on them. I would've loved to wear my fairy top, but when the boy I met in the field fell asleep and slid off the tree trunk, I didn't want his head to be on the bare ground.

The only splash of texture and colour to spruce up the modesty of my outfit is the long red, gold and purple silk scarf I'm wearing around my waist like a sash. I'm not sure who I'm going to marry this year. Sindy now has a boyfriend, and what girl would want to marry their female cousin when they already have a hunky boyfriend?

There is no way that Allie will marry me, and I definitely don't want Jasper to make good on his-

"You forgot to make yourself some kind of veil, Glitch!" Sindy suddenly points out, startling me out of my meandering thoughts. "The veil is half the fun! So, I thought you'd like to use this."

Auntie used to protest when people called me Glitch; she thought they were mocking me because it was a name I accidentally gave myself when my brain glitched, and my words didn't want to come out right. I think it suits me perfectly, and I've been actively encouraging the use. She has, through time, come to terms with it but still refuses ever to call me that.

I turn to look at Sindy and see that she is grinning, holding a piece of folded cloth out to me over Allie's lap, nearly shoving her sister into the seat back. It's the most beautiful creation I've ever seen! It's made from some kind of transparent, fragile material. I think it might be cobwebs... Probably not. The colour ranges from red right through the spectrum of purples and blues, and greens. Delicate flowers are embroidered on it in gold thread.

My discomfort, completely forgotten, I squeal in delight.

~~~