Where Love Lies, page 23
When Liam was close to finishing, I felt him lean into my cheek, his warm breath in my ear.
“Don’t ever disobey me like that again, Ella,” he said excitedly, and the sound of my name made me feel like he was finally acknowledging me for the first time that night.
His lips against my cheek again, he kissed me softly. Then, out of nowhere, I felt a deep pain cutting through my flesh. I pushed him away, holding my cheek with both hands, blood gushing down my palms.
“You bit me!” I cried, but Liam was in a trance, finishing himself off. Semen dripped down his hand onto the floor as he leaned back against the kitchen counter to steady himself. I knelt beside him, naked and bloody, the sour scent of cum lingering in the air.
“What happened?” he asked when he looked at me. “Oh, shit, what the fuck? I thought I was just giving you a little love bite. Damn. You’re so sensitive. Let me see; let me take a look,” he said, trying to move my hand away from the bite. I pushed it away and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
When I stared into the mirror, I didn’t recognize the girl looking back at me. I slowly moved my hand from my cheek, afraid to see what he had done. On the side of my cheek was a doughnut-shaped bite mark recording the specific characteristics of Liam’s teeth—an imprint of his four top and bottom teeth engraved in my skin, blood still gushing. He had branded me, on purpose or accidentally, but the abrasion was deep. Do I need stitches? How am I going to show up to the wedding tomorrow like this? Everyone will see.
Liam knocked on the door. “Tiny? Let me in. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You get me so excited that I turn into a sex animal—what can I say? I snagged the hottest girl in town.”
“Get away. Leave me alone.” I didn’t want to feel his hands on my face or see the look of sorrow on his. I needed time away from Liam. A minute. Or a lifetime.
I leaned against the bathroom wall and sat on the floor, my cheek pulsing. Liam had once bruised my cheek with his kiss, and now this.
Fifteen minutes later, Liam knocked again.
“Come on, don’t be dramatic. Take a shower; you’ll feel better,” he said through the door. “I’m going out for a drink. I need one. We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? When? While we’re welcoming our guests and reading our wedding vows?
I didn’t answer him, but when I heard the sound of the front door closing, I was relieved he was gone.
I decided to run a bath. Maybe the steam would help the cut heal faster for tomorrow. When the bath was ready, I stepped into the hot water, the bubbles moving aside as if making room for me. I cleaned the blood from my face and arms and watched as the water turned a light pink. My favorite color. I dropped a bath bomb into the tub and held my breath, sinking my head under the water. The sting of the cut hurt at first, but when I came up for air, I already felt better. As I lay there surrounded by the warm water, watching the bath bomb explode into clouds of pink, the mirror surrounding the bath steamed up like it usually did. I always wrote something on a steamed mirror, because you can’t not, but for a minute, I couldn’t think of anything to write.
So I just sat there, the steam rising, and let my finger wander. I closed my eyes and wrote my own name, over and over again.
I opened the bathroom drawer and applied two princess decorated bandages to the bite mark, hoping it wouldn’t be as noticeable by tomorrow. What would my father say? When I stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, the apartment was empty, but I felt calm. It was just me and the candles; we were all a little bit smaller than when the night began.
For a long time, I believed Liam when he told me I was wrong. When he told me I was a privileged young woman, a spoiled American brat. Liam always said one day I’d learn that real life wasn’t easy. It was a lesson he’d absorbed early, growing up in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Northern Israel. His mother was sick. His father couldn’t find a steady job. He paid his grandmother’s rent. Left everything behind. All because he’d moved to New York to be with me.
But tonight, my thoughts shifted. Did I dream of showing up to the altar with a bite mark on the side of my cheek, afraid to sleep next to my future husband? Did I imagine sleeping alone in bed the night before the wedding, the smell of cum still lingering in the air, while my groom-to-be barhopped without me? Was this what I truly thought I deserved? Reality outdoes imagination.
Tomorrow was the big day. In two hours, my parents would pick me up in the SUV they rented, and we’d drive to Montauk to celebrate the marriage of two young people from opposite sides of the world, both physically and mentally. The makeup artist would be waiting for me there, and my mother would make sure the food caterer had everything right. My parents, grandparents, and Anna had already flown in from Israel; Liam’s parents, his brother and sister, and his two best friends flew in last minute, too. Julia was driving in early from Connecticut, and Chloe postponed her flight to Norway to be there for me.
Lying alone in bed in the dark, I unhooked the heart necklace Liam gave me for my twentieth birthday, that night in the army at the watchtower. I held the necklace in my hands, the dim light of the moon revealing the outline of the charms, but inside the intertwined hearts was nothing, only empty space.
Chapter 31
Liam must have snuck into bed during the forty minutes I was actually asleep, because I didn’t hear him walk into the apartment. I woke up to my alarm at 5:00 a.m., adrenaline rushing through my body. Today was the day: my wedding day. The day I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl in that Connecticut barn. I washed my face and brushed my teeth in the bathroom, and when I leaned in to the mirror to get a better look at the bite mark Liam left, I was relieved to see it didn’t look as bad as I expected it to. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “No one is stronger than me,” I said, but as I repeated my mantra, my mind transported me to the night before, to Liam sinking his teeth into my flesh, to feeling, for the flash of an instant, like I deserved it.
Liam knocking on the bathroom door interrupted my thoughts.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said when I opened it. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
“Good morning, my love,” I said. The part of me that loved him couldn’t wait to marry him either.
He kissed my neck and put the intertwined heart necklace around it. “You almost forgot to put this on,” he said.
My parents picked me up at a quarter past six, and when I got into the back seat of the car, a grande soy cappuccino and a spinach egg wrap were already waiting for me. Liam could arrive later, considering all he had to do was hop in the shower and put on a suit. I hugged my father and felt comfort in the familiarity of his smell, even though I could tell by the look on his face he was nervous about the day to come. I had parted my hair on the side to hide the bite mark, and I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. If I did, he would know what I was feeling without words. My mother, on the other hand, glowed with excitement.
“Honey! Look at you! Let’s do this! I’ve already called the caterer to make sure they’re on the way to the beach house, and guess what? They’re already there! Champagne, caviar, and all! I can’t wait for you to try on your dress; you’re going to look like a princess.” She squeezed my hand.
“Maya, relax,” my father said, his eyes on the road. “It’s only a wedding, not some sort of hard-earned accomplishment.”
As we drove into Montauk, past the white-picket fences and clear blue sky, I couldn’t believe how picture-perfect my life seemed on the outside but how destroyed I felt on the inside. Yet when the SUV glided into Liam’s uncle’s driveway, I couldn’t help but feel I was being transported into a dream. It wasn’t just a beach house—it was an eleven-bedroom mansion with the stylistic combination of a ‘60s Florida home and the laid-back, gray-stoned feel of a Montauk beach house. I stepped out of the car to catering waiters bustling back and forth, gardeners putting the finishing touches on the lawn, and three pool boys cleaning a turquoise infinity pool. The charming outdoor woven-wicker finish blended perfectly with the pastel flowers my mother had chosen, but no amount of money could buy my happiness.
It was already past 8:00 a.m.; relaxing cocktail music played in the background, creating a contemporary garden-party feel, the crisp whites and fresh greenery complementing the white stools and market umbrellas. A long wooden table with white dining chairs sprawled across the back area of the lawn, and I couldn’t help but smile at the blue and white hydrangeas dressing the table, reminding me of Liam’s proposal at the Shakespeare Garden. The outdoor sofas were decorated with navy and white stripes, creating an authentic nautical feel that exceeded even my most extravagant expectations.
But all of this was nothing compared to the moment I laid eyes on the chuppah. I stopped in my tracks. It took my breath away. All those nights dreaming about my wedding, dreaming about the perfect princess day, hadn’t prepared me for the feeling rushing through me as I walked closer and closer to the chuppah. Symbolizing the new home to which the groom would officially accept his bride, this wedding canopy was lined with pastel flowers so dense I could barely see the four poles holding it up. Draped across the top was a stunning, soft white cloth, held up by flowers on each corner. I couldn’t believe this was mine. Mine and Liam’s.
I got ready with my mother, Natalie, and Emma in the master bedroom on the third floor, our hair in curlers, looking out the window at the wedding preparations. My father stayed downstairs making small talk with the workers, offering them wine and whiskey without realizing Americans didn’t usually drink on the job. The makeup artist, a young, chubby woman in her late thirties, promised to give me a natural look, the way Liam liked, and when my mother was busy with my sisters, I pointed to the bite mark and mouthed, Please make sure you cover this.
When my mother came in with the dress, it was more beautiful than when I saw it on FaceTime, and I started to cry. I slipped it on, the white floral print blending in with the decorations, with the energy, with the entire day. I had officially embraced this fairy-tale dream, each hair in place, each nail flawlessly manicured, each smile perfectly crafted. Why couldn’t I put my feelings aside? I wanted to enjoy this moment as it happened and lean in to the side of myself that was head over heels in love with Liam. The side of myself that knew he was only human, that he, too, made mistakes. The side that believed him when he promised to change, when he told me he loved me, when he lifted me up and spun me around, protecting me from any danger. This wedding was everything I could have dreamed of and nothing I ever dreamed of, and while on the outside the birds kept chirping, inside my soul was turmoil.
A few drinks later, guests started to arrive. The traditional Jewish wedding expected the bride to stay upstairs before the ceremony so that when she arrived for the first time to walk down the aisle, her entrance had more impact, and that’s what Liam and I agreed we would do. As the clock inched toward twelve, I watched the guests from upstairs, alone. Chloe and Julia laughed with each other while sipping champagne, and Liam’s parents looked uncomfortable and out of place on the white barstools. My mother trailed behind my grandparents, making sure they had enough food to eat and a place to sit, and my sisters and brother trailed behind her. My father sat alone on the navy-and-white-striped couch drinking whiskey on the rocks, taking it all in.
And then, there he was. Liam. Beaming with an enormous smile, he greeted each guest, kissing them on each cheek, his eyes squinting from smiling so wide. Charisma radiated off of him, and the suit he wore accentuated his muscular chest. I knew any woman who didn’t know Liam could have fallen in love with him in that moment. When he wanted to be, he was magic.
When it was time, my mother came upstairs to bring me down, and I hid to the left of the ceremony with her on one arm and my father holding the other. The guests sat in the chairs facing the chuppah, and although I hadn’t seen him yet, Liam was waiting for me underneath it, standing beside his parents. “All of Me” started playing, the familiar notes taking me back to that night at the watchtower, that night when I believed Liam and I were meant to live happily ever after, that night when I thought it was us against the world.
As I walked down the aisle toward Liam, I started to shake. After all these years, the face that was blurry up until now came into focus. Liam watched as my parents and I stopped in front of the chuppah. My father kissed me swiftly and waited for my mother, but when she leaned in to kiss me, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks. From the outside, they looked like tears of happiness, but I saw the sorrow in them.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered in my ear, and I knew I hadn’t misheard her.
They left me there alone and walked toward Liam, hand in hand, waiting for me beside him.
Finally, I was standing in the aisle alone. I looked at Julia and Chloe, their phones videotaping these moments, and then I looked at my little sisters, giddy with excitement, their dresses flowing behind them. Last, I looked at Liam. I watched as he wiped tears from his eyes—watched as he realized he’d succeeded. He had a look of disbelief on his face that he was actually going to marry me, right here, right now, in front of everyone we loved, and deep inside, I was in disbelief, too.
“You are stunning,” Liam said when I walked up to meet him. We stood under the chuppah, the rabbi reading the Hebrew prayers before it was our turn to read our vows to one another.
Liam started. “Ella, love of my life—thank you for it all. I’ll never know how two completely different people from opposite sides of the world fell in love the way we have. I never thought my wife would be an American princess, but I hope I can continue to provide that for you as we move forward in our lives. And if it takes time, be easy on me. I know I’m not perfect; I never have been. But you make me want to change. You make me want to be a better person. When I was growing up, I didn’t ever feel like I had a normal family like everybody else, but now, standing here with you, I know you will give me all of you. You are my family now. We belong to each other. You’re a piece of work, but you’re my piece of work, and I know I love you. That’s what matters. Love conquers all. I promise to love you and to protect you until death do us part.”
Liam wiped the sweat from his forehead, the Hamptons breeze no longer as refreshing as it was in the early hours of the morning. I unfolded the paper scrunched up in my fist, the vows I wrote two weeks before when things between us were better. Two weeks before Liam sank his teeth into my flesh.
For a brief moment, when he was done, I felt sorry for him. But when he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, the same cheek he bit last night, causing me to feel a sting that traveled through my bones, my empathy for him diminished. I looked into Liam’s eyes, and it seemed like he’d aged a decade since the day I met him that night two and a half years before on the beach. Even standing at the altar in his black suit with his hair slicked back, I saw the bags under his eyes, the sunken posture. He might have looked like he had it all together, but inside, he was tired, too.
I started reading: “Liam, thank you for teaching me that love has no boundaries. That love forgives everything. That love really means for better or for worse. Before I met you, I was different. I didn’t know what it meant to give yourself fully to someone else. To put yourself last, to love somebody more than you love yourself. I’ve always been in love with love, and I’ve always thought that love could overcome anything, that love was first and foremost, and any problems that came afterward could be solved if the love was strong enough.”
I stopped reading. I looked up at Liam. I couldn’t continue. I crumpled the vows in my fist and threw them on the floor. I heard my mother’s voice in my head. You don’t have to do this.
“But you know what, Liam? I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t believe love conquers all. I don’t believe love comes first. I don’t believe it’s healthy to love somebody more than you love yourself. I think dignity comes before love. And how about self-appreciation? How about respect? Shouldn’t those things come before love, too? What about trust? Don’t you think trusting the man you sleep next to and not being afraid he’ll sink his teeth into your flesh again is more important than love?”
I continued, “Don’t you think love is minimized if the man you love spends evenings degrading you, listing everything that’s wrong with how you look and act and feel? If he spends his life belittling you to make himself feel better? What kind of love is that?”
Liam coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. “Are you really going to do this right now?” he said under his breath. “In front of everybody?”
The words spilled out. “I loved you so much in the beginning, with your grand gestures, your endless charisma. You scooped me up when I was down and pretended like you were going to protect me, when you were the one I was supposed to be afraid of all along. You isolated me from the people who loved me most, and you made me believe I was going insane.”
I could feel the guests starting to fidget in their chairs.
Liam spoke. “How dare you embarrass me like this? How can you do this to me? You self-centered, privileged brat. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“No idea what you’ve been through?” I said. “You have no idea, Liam. I used to have a light inside of me, but you … you put it out. I’m not the girl I was before the army. She’s gone. You don’t know what it’s like to feel this small, to feel like I’m not enough, like whatever I do will never satisfy you. Why do I have to beg you to talk to me after I make a normal, human mistake? I’m not supposed to fear for my safety at the hands of the man I love. What you did last night … it makes me sick, physically sick, just thinking about it. I’m not going to live like that, Liam. I can’t start a family with you; I can’t bring a baby into this world just to watch you break me down. I don’t deserve it. I can’t do this. Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking you could do this to me for the rest of my life.”
After months of pushing it down, the anger was spilling out of me.
“Don’t ever disobey me like that again, Ella,” he said excitedly, and the sound of my name made me feel like he was finally acknowledging me for the first time that night.
His lips against my cheek again, he kissed me softly. Then, out of nowhere, I felt a deep pain cutting through my flesh. I pushed him away, holding my cheek with both hands, blood gushing down my palms.
“You bit me!” I cried, but Liam was in a trance, finishing himself off. Semen dripped down his hand onto the floor as he leaned back against the kitchen counter to steady himself. I knelt beside him, naked and bloody, the sour scent of cum lingering in the air.
“What happened?” he asked when he looked at me. “Oh, shit, what the fuck? I thought I was just giving you a little love bite. Damn. You’re so sensitive. Let me see; let me take a look,” he said, trying to move my hand away from the bite. I pushed it away and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
When I stared into the mirror, I didn’t recognize the girl looking back at me. I slowly moved my hand from my cheek, afraid to see what he had done. On the side of my cheek was a doughnut-shaped bite mark recording the specific characteristics of Liam’s teeth—an imprint of his four top and bottom teeth engraved in my skin, blood still gushing. He had branded me, on purpose or accidentally, but the abrasion was deep. Do I need stitches? How am I going to show up to the wedding tomorrow like this? Everyone will see.
Liam knocked on the door. “Tiny? Let me in. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You get me so excited that I turn into a sex animal—what can I say? I snagged the hottest girl in town.”
“Get away. Leave me alone.” I didn’t want to feel his hands on my face or see the look of sorrow on his. I needed time away from Liam. A minute. Or a lifetime.
I leaned against the bathroom wall and sat on the floor, my cheek pulsing. Liam had once bruised my cheek with his kiss, and now this.
Fifteen minutes later, Liam knocked again.
“Come on, don’t be dramatic. Take a shower; you’ll feel better,” he said through the door. “I’m going out for a drink. I need one. We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? When? While we’re welcoming our guests and reading our wedding vows?
I didn’t answer him, but when I heard the sound of the front door closing, I was relieved he was gone.
I decided to run a bath. Maybe the steam would help the cut heal faster for tomorrow. When the bath was ready, I stepped into the hot water, the bubbles moving aside as if making room for me. I cleaned the blood from my face and arms and watched as the water turned a light pink. My favorite color. I dropped a bath bomb into the tub and held my breath, sinking my head under the water. The sting of the cut hurt at first, but when I came up for air, I already felt better. As I lay there surrounded by the warm water, watching the bath bomb explode into clouds of pink, the mirror surrounding the bath steamed up like it usually did. I always wrote something on a steamed mirror, because you can’t not, but for a minute, I couldn’t think of anything to write.
So I just sat there, the steam rising, and let my finger wander. I closed my eyes and wrote my own name, over and over again.
I opened the bathroom drawer and applied two princess decorated bandages to the bite mark, hoping it wouldn’t be as noticeable by tomorrow. What would my father say? When I stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, the apartment was empty, but I felt calm. It was just me and the candles; we were all a little bit smaller than when the night began.
For a long time, I believed Liam when he told me I was wrong. When he told me I was a privileged young woman, a spoiled American brat. Liam always said one day I’d learn that real life wasn’t easy. It was a lesson he’d absorbed early, growing up in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Northern Israel. His mother was sick. His father couldn’t find a steady job. He paid his grandmother’s rent. Left everything behind. All because he’d moved to New York to be with me.
But tonight, my thoughts shifted. Did I dream of showing up to the altar with a bite mark on the side of my cheek, afraid to sleep next to my future husband? Did I imagine sleeping alone in bed the night before the wedding, the smell of cum still lingering in the air, while my groom-to-be barhopped without me? Was this what I truly thought I deserved? Reality outdoes imagination.
Tomorrow was the big day. In two hours, my parents would pick me up in the SUV they rented, and we’d drive to Montauk to celebrate the marriage of two young people from opposite sides of the world, both physically and mentally. The makeup artist would be waiting for me there, and my mother would make sure the food caterer had everything right. My parents, grandparents, and Anna had already flown in from Israel; Liam’s parents, his brother and sister, and his two best friends flew in last minute, too. Julia was driving in early from Connecticut, and Chloe postponed her flight to Norway to be there for me.
Lying alone in bed in the dark, I unhooked the heart necklace Liam gave me for my twentieth birthday, that night in the army at the watchtower. I held the necklace in my hands, the dim light of the moon revealing the outline of the charms, but inside the intertwined hearts was nothing, only empty space.
Chapter 31
Liam must have snuck into bed during the forty minutes I was actually asleep, because I didn’t hear him walk into the apartment. I woke up to my alarm at 5:00 a.m., adrenaline rushing through my body. Today was the day: my wedding day. The day I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl in that Connecticut barn. I washed my face and brushed my teeth in the bathroom, and when I leaned in to the mirror to get a better look at the bite mark Liam left, I was relieved to see it didn’t look as bad as I expected it to. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “No one is stronger than me,” I said, but as I repeated my mantra, my mind transported me to the night before, to Liam sinking his teeth into my flesh, to feeling, for the flash of an instant, like I deserved it.
Liam knocking on the bathroom door interrupted my thoughts.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said when I opened it. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
“Good morning, my love,” I said. The part of me that loved him couldn’t wait to marry him either.
He kissed my neck and put the intertwined heart necklace around it. “You almost forgot to put this on,” he said.
My parents picked me up at a quarter past six, and when I got into the back seat of the car, a grande soy cappuccino and a spinach egg wrap were already waiting for me. Liam could arrive later, considering all he had to do was hop in the shower and put on a suit. I hugged my father and felt comfort in the familiarity of his smell, even though I could tell by the look on his face he was nervous about the day to come. I had parted my hair on the side to hide the bite mark, and I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. If I did, he would know what I was feeling without words. My mother, on the other hand, glowed with excitement.
“Honey! Look at you! Let’s do this! I’ve already called the caterer to make sure they’re on the way to the beach house, and guess what? They’re already there! Champagne, caviar, and all! I can’t wait for you to try on your dress; you’re going to look like a princess.” She squeezed my hand.
“Maya, relax,” my father said, his eyes on the road. “It’s only a wedding, not some sort of hard-earned accomplishment.”
As we drove into Montauk, past the white-picket fences and clear blue sky, I couldn’t believe how picture-perfect my life seemed on the outside but how destroyed I felt on the inside. Yet when the SUV glided into Liam’s uncle’s driveway, I couldn’t help but feel I was being transported into a dream. It wasn’t just a beach house—it was an eleven-bedroom mansion with the stylistic combination of a ‘60s Florida home and the laid-back, gray-stoned feel of a Montauk beach house. I stepped out of the car to catering waiters bustling back and forth, gardeners putting the finishing touches on the lawn, and three pool boys cleaning a turquoise infinity pool. The charming outdoor woven-wicker finish blended perfectly with the pastel flowers my mother had chosen, but no amount of money could buy my happiness.
It was already past 8:00 a.m.; relaxing cocktail music played in the background, creating a contemporary garden-party feel, the crisp whites and fresh greenery complementing the white stools and market umbrellas. A long wooden table with white dining chairs sprawled across the back area of the lawn, and I couldn’t help but smile at the blue and white hydrangeas dressing the table, reminding me of Liam’s proposal at the Shakespeare Garden. The outdoor sofas were decorated with navy and white stripes, creating an authentic nautical feel that exceeded even my most extravagant expectations.
But all of this was nothing compared to the moment I laid eyes on the chuppah. I stopped in my tracks. It took my breath away. All those nights dreaming about my wedding, dreaming about the perfect princess day, hadn’t prepared me for the feeling rushing through me as I walked closer and closer to the chuppah. Symbolizing the new home to which the groom would officially accept his bride, this wedding canopy was lined with pastel flowers so dense I could barely see the four poles holding it up. Draped across the top was a stunning, soft white cloth, held up by flowers on each corner. I couldn’t believe this was mine. Mine and Liam’s.
I got ready with my mother, Natalie, and Emma in the master bedroom on the third floor, our hair in curlers, looking out the window at the wedding preparations. My father stayed downstairs making small talk with the workers, offering them wine and whiskey without realizing Americans didn’t usually drink on the job. The makeup artist, a young, chubby woman in her late thirties, promised to give me a natural look, the way Liam liked, and when my mother was busy with my sisters, I pointed to the bite mark and mouthed, Please make sure you cover this.
When my mother came in with the dress, it was more beautiful than when I saw it on FaceTime, and I started to cry. I slipped it on, the white floral print blending in with the decorations, with the energy, with the entire day. I had officially embraced this fairy-tale dream, each hair in place, each nail flawlessly manicured, each smile perfectly crafted. Why couldn’t I put my feelings aside? I wanted to enjoy this moment as it happened and lean in to the side of myself that was head over heels in love with Liam. The side of myself that knew he was only human, that he, too, made mistakes. The side that believed him when he promised to change, when he told me he loved me, when he lifted me up and spun me around, protecting me from any danger. This wedding was everything I could have dreamed of and nothing I ever dreamed of, and while on the outside the birds kept chirping, inside my soul was turmoil.
A few drinks later, guests started to arrive. The traditional Jewish wedding expected the bride to stay upstairs before the ceremony so that when she arrived for the first time to walk down the aisle, her entrance had more impact, and that’s what Liam and I agreed we would do. As the clock inched toward twelve, I watched the guests from upstairs, alone. Chloe and Julia laughed with each other while sipping champagne, and Liam’s parents looked uncomfortable and out of place on the white barstools. My mother trailed behind my grandparents, making sure they had enough food to eat and a place to sit, and my sisters and brother trailed behind her. My father sat alone on the navy-and-white-striped couch drinking whiskey on the rocks, taking it all in.
And then, there he was. Liam. Beaming with an enormous smile, he greeted each guest, kissing them on each cheek, his eyes squinting from smiling so wide. Charisma radiated off of him, and the suit he wore accentuated his muscular chest. I knew any woman who didn’t know Liam could have fallen in love with him in that moment. When he wanted to be, he was magic.
When it was time, my mother came upstairs to bring me down, and I hid to the left of the ceremony with her on one arm and my father holding the other. The guests sat in the chairs facing the chuppah, and although I hadn’t seen him yet, Liam was waiting for me underneath it, standing beside his parents. “All of Me” started playing, the familiar notes taking me back to that night at the watchtower, that night when I believed Liam and I were meant to live happily ever after, that night when I thought it was us against the world.
As I walked down the aisle toward Liam, I started to shake. After all these years, the face that was blurry up until now came into focus. Liam watched as my parents and I stopped in front of the chuppah. My father kissed me swiftly and waited for my mother, but when she leaned in to kiss me, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks. From the outside, they looked like tears of happiness, but I saw the sorrow in them.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered in my ear, and I knew I hadn’t misheard her.
They left me there alone and walked toward Liam, hand in hand, waiting for me beside him.
Finally, I was standing in the aisle alone. I looked at Julia and Chloe, their phones videotaping these moments, and then I looked at my little sisters, giddy with excitement, their dresses flowing behind them. Last, I looked at Liam. I watched as he wiped tears from his eyes—watched as he realized he’d succeeded. He had a look of disbelief on his face that he was actually going to marry me, right here, right now, in front of everyone we loved, and deep inside, I was in disbelief, too.
“You are stunning,” Liam said when I walked up to meet him. We stood under the chuppah, the rabbi reading the Hebrew prayers before it was our turn to read our vows to one another.
Liam started. “Ella, love of my life—thank you for it all. I’ll never know how two completely different people from opposite sides of the world fell in love the way we have. I never thought my wife would be an American princess, but I hope I can continue to provide that for you as we move forward in our lives. And if it takes time, be easy on me. I know I’m not perfect; I never have been. But you make me want to change. You make me want to be a better person. When I was growing up, I didn’t ever feel like I had a normal family like everybody else, but now, standing here with you, I know you will give me all of you. You are my family now. We belong to each other. You’re a piece of work, but you’re my piece of work, and I know I love you. That’s what matters. Love conquers all. I promise to love you and to protect you until death do us part.”
Liam wiped the sweat from his forehead, the Hamptons breeze no longer as refreshing as it was in the early hours of the morning. I unfolded the paper scrunched up in my fist, the vows I wrote two weeks before when things between us were better. Two weeks before Liam sank his teeth into my flesh.
For a brief moment, when he was done, I felt sorry for him. But when he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, the same cheek he bit last night, causing me to feel a sting that traveled through my bones, my empathy for him diminished. I looked into Liam’s eyes, and it seemed like he’d aged a decade since the day I met him that night two and a half years before on the beach. Even standing at the altar in his black suit with his hair slicked back, I saw the bags under his eyes, the sunken posture. He might have looked like he had it all together, but inside, he was tired, too.
I started reading: “Liam, thank you for teaching me that love has no boundaries. That love forgives everything. That love really means for better or for worse. Before I met you, I was different. I didn’t know what it meant to give yourself fully to someone else. To put yourself last, to love somebody more than you love yourself. I’ve always been in love with love, and I’ve always thought that love could overcome anything, that love was first and foremost, and any problems that came afterward could be solved if the love was strong enough.”
I stopped reading. I looked up at Liam. I couldn’t continue. I crumpled the vows in my fist and threw them on the floor. I heard my mother’s voice in my head. You don’t have to do this.
“But you know what, Liam? I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t believe love conquers all. I don’t believe love comes first. I don’t believe it’s healthy to love somebody more than you love yourself. I think dignity comes before love. And how about self-appreciation? How about respect? Shouldn’t those things come before love, too? What about trust? Don’t you think trusting the man you sleep next to and not being afraid he’ll sink his teeth into your flesh again is more important than love?”
I continued, “Don’t you think love is minimized if the man you love spends evenings degrading you, listing everything that’s wrong with how you look and act and feel? If he spends his life belittling you to make himself feel better? What kind of love is that?”
Liam coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. “Are you really going to do this right now?” he said under his breath. “In front of everybody?”
The words spilled out. “I loved you so much in the beginning, with your grand gestures, your endless charisma. You scooped me up when I was down and pretended like you were going to protect me, when you were the one I was supposed to be afraid of all along. You isolated me from the people who loved me most, and you made me believe I was going insane.”
I could feel the guests starting to fidget in their chairs.
Liam spoke. “How dare you embarrass me like this? How can you do this to me? You self-centered, privileged brat. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“No idea what you’ve been through?” I said. “You have no idea, Liam. I used to have a light inside of me, but you … you put it out. I’m not the girl I was before the army. She’s gone. You don’t know what it’s like to feel this small, to feel like I’m not enough, like whatever I do will never satisfy you. Why do I have to beg you to talk to me after I make a normal, human mistake? I’m not supposed to fear for my safety at the hands of the man I love. What you did last night … it makes me sick, physically sick, just thinking about it. I’m not going to live like that, Liam. I can’t start a family with you; I can’t bring a baby into this world just to watch you break me down. I don’t deserve it. I can’t do this. Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking you could do this to me for the rest of my life.”
After months of pushing it down, the anger was spilling out of me.
