The Educator

“Can we bring the bride some water, please?” my coordinator shouts from behind me. Probably towards his assistant. He touches my hair bun lightly and tweaks it. God-knows why. He walks over to the other end of the room, speaks with my make up artis. I couldn’t quite pick up what they were taking about but with the way my coordinator was through his hands up in the air, I could say that he wasn’t satisfied with my make up. He places his hands on his hips, something like what my mom would do when she finds out I slipped through the door in the middle of the night, with me coming from a party. He walks back towards me and smiles at me through the vanity, “Eli, honey, mind if we tone down the make up to something more . . . fresh?” he smiles a crooked smile.

I nod in agreement. I couldn’t care less about how I looked anyway. I look at myself in the mirror as Sheila, the makeup artist, pulls out from her small, black side bag a piece or two of facial tissue and starts patting my face. “Sorry” she whispers. She carefully wipes the excess make up off, careful not to touch the ends of the sheer material of my wedding gown as she wipes the down my neck and under my chin. Sheila was a fair toned woman with a really contagious smile. She did not look thirty-five. I guess eating spicy food, drinking more than ten glasses of water and walking to everywhere she went really pays off.

I just smile. I smile a faint smile. A young lady places a tall glass of cold water in front of me. There’s visible precipitation on the glass. She most likely forgot about it.

Sheila takes a cotton swab and uses a gentle make-up remover for my lips. From the vanity, there is another small black bag that carried about over forty shades of lipstick. She studies about five of them and takes about seven seconds to study each. She finally picks a mauve color, something that would accentuate my tanned skin. Sheila applies it, motions that I put my lips together to spread out the pigment. My coordinator, Robin, whom I have known for about five years. Robin happens to be my best friend, yes, that gay best friend. We met while he was crying at the train station. I was on my way to Marina Bay Sands and he was on his way to somewhere. According to what I could pick up while he was telling me the story of why he was crying, his ex-boyfriend at that time took all of Robin’s money and ran off with his apparently long-term girlfriend. Yes, the ex-boyfriend was just in it for the money. After that incident, I never saw Robin with anyone else. It hit different when you dedicate your life to someone and they hardly make the effort to reciprocate.

Speaking of Robin, here comes with a big smile and a glass of cold but not burnt champagne on his left hand. “Are we ready? Yes?” he smiles at me. I stand and look at myself in the mirror. I breathe in and I take a portion of my dress, lifting it so that I don’t step on it. I walk towards the door and start walking toward the hallway. My Made of Honor, Hannah, takes care of my train and carries my bouquet. Hannah is my childhood best friend. We’ve known each other since we were nine years old. Hannah was the head turner between us. She has pinkish white skin, really long and slim legs, long colored hair and s really cute smile. Almost most of the time, boys chase after her.

She smiles widely, “Eli, you look absolutely gorgeous” she whispers to me. I smile back at her.

“Thanks” I whisper back. She holds my hand tight and then leans in for a tight hug. I could something warm slide on my shoulder blade. Hannah’s crying. The pulls away and then looks up as pats her undereye. The rest of my entourage is in front of me, in a single file and at the end of the hallway, my parents stood. My mother and father stood side by side. I finally notice the light age spots on my mother’s shoulder as she wears her long, cream white gown with small linings of Swarovski gems just before the ends meet her feet. Her shoulders bare from the halter cut of the gown.

Clarise, one of my bridesmaids and college friends smile at my mother and says, “Congratulations, Mrs. Go. We are so happy for your family”. Clarise is small in height and petit in body size. She was one of those women than simply looked elegant no matter what they wore. Her skin is porcelain white, her cheekbones high, her eyes small but a little round in the middle and her nose pointed but small on the sides.

My mother smiles “Thank you, Clarise. You look so good. Soon, we’ll be seeing you walk down the aisle” my mother jokes. Clarise giggles “Oh, Mrs. Go. That would be way into the future”, Clarise jokes back. Clarise turns to my father, who is wearing his classic tuxedo with a small pocket on the right side of his jacket. His black slacks fall just before the cloth reaches the end of the bone on the side of his ankle. Clarise “Mr. Go, I think your tuxedo makes you twenty years younger”

father chuckles, “Ah, Clarise, you

my mother takes my left arm. They both kiss me on either side of my cheek. My mother looks at me, her eyes a little watery. She smiles a small one and says to me, “Thank you for saving our

at her, deep into her eyes, silently begging that she be my way out of this. That she be

a life of luxury” my father says straight up. My whole

gave me away to

about to walk down. Be in your best posture because the photographers will be taking shots for the same day edit. Stomach in, chin up and smile like a virgin, ladies!” Robin instructs as he waves his hands in and out, signaling us to start moving. I breathe in a deep breath, not minding what my father had jus uttered, needless to say in front of my friends. We start walking down the hall and onto the grand lobby of Marina Bay Sands towards the Garden Park. Robin raised his hand, signaling for us to halt. We stop and from a far, through the gaps between overlapping leaves, I could see white lights falling, as if they are rain. I could faintly hear the guests talking and

the aisle, exposing me to the guests, my throat starts to dry, my fingers start to sweat and my legs start to shiver. My father feels that my body stiffens and bury

the bone on my wrist with her thumb. I look to my left and realize that I do not know the people, not even familiar. I look to my right and recognize a face or two. I see my future husband’s family, after that, I do not recognize anyone. I look down the aisle and there he stood, my

Elliot Roi Tan

Tans and the proudest achievement of the Smiths. As far as I know, the Tan-Smith family owns various restaurants that branched out in Asia and

leather shoes from the same designer. His hair clean, as if he just stepped out from his favorite barber. His hands behind him as he waits for me. His expression, plain and looks at me as if

In fact, it was.

Elliot’s. “Take care of our daughter, Elliot. She means the world

father nod in agreement. Elliot turns to my mother