The day I went to get divorced, dressed as a bride.
When my husband told me he wanted a divorce, I opened the wardrobe and drew out my wedding dress.
What on earth are you doing? he asked with a look of utter bewilderment.
Im going to wear this to court, I replied, giving the gown a good shake to rid it of its dust.
Have you lost your mind? You cant turn up to a divorce hearing dressed as a bride!
Oh, I certainly can. And you shall wear your wedding suit. If you could vow eternal love to me dressed in it, you can just as well vow eternal separation in the same attire.
I watched as he searched for a sensible argument, finding none. Twenty minutes later, he was rummaging around in the back of the wardrobe, grumbling as he hunted for his old suit.
When we arrived at the courthouse in London, the security guard was positively rooted to the spot. Someone wished us, Congratulations! at the entrance, and another woman nudged her, whispering, You fool, theyre here for a divorce!
The judge nearly toppled off his chair at the sight of us: me in a full white dress, veil and all; him in a black tailcoat, crisp white shirt, bow tie and shiny shoes.
Madam, the judge attempted, struggling not to laugh, may I ask why youve come dressed as a bride?
Because, Your Honour, I replied with as much dignity as I could muster, this man promised till death do us part dressed precisely like this. Since death hasnt parted us but he wishes to end things, let him do so while seeing me exactly as he did when he made that promisewhen he lied to me.
My husband looked at me with tears welling in his eyes.
I never lied to you. I truly loved you on that day.
And now? I asked, my voice trembling despite myself.
The judge cleared his throat.
Ill tell you what, Im going to give you thirty minutes. Go out, take a walk, have a talk. If you return still dressed in those clothes, still determined to part ways, I shall proceed. But something tells metwo people who come here like this might still have things worth saying to each other.
We stepped out into the corridor. He straightened my veil, which had become a bit lopsided.
You look beautiful, he said quietly. Just like you did that day.
You look rather dashing yourself, I admitted, though youre still a bit of a fool.
There we stood, dressed as if for a wedding, in the middle of a courthouse, entirely lost.
What if, he ventured, instead of getting divorced we go and have a slice of wedding cake and remember why we got married in the first place?
Perhaps true love is just thatshowing up to a divorce as you did to your wedding. Or maybe, its simply that we are two dramatic souls who have never learned to do things by halves.
