27: Have you ever really, really wanted something?

This story is inspired by the institution of marriage.

Persische Nachtigallen | Paul Klee

Kara had had her eye on that wedding dress for weeks.

It hung in the window she passed every day on her way home from work.

Off-white silk, soft as breath, perfectly cut for her hips. A mouthwatering neckline that would flatter her collarbones. A delicate cutout in the back. A small cloth bird pinned at the breast, fluttering in the wind.

She had already tried to buy it a few times.

Each time, the elderly gentleman who ran the store had told her it was unavailable for one reason or the other. “The dress is on hold for another customer”. “Sorry, it needs alteration.” “Sorry, it’s the show piece.”

The excuses confused Kara more and more each time she heard them.

Didn’t stores exist for people to buy things from them?

Kara needed that dress. Her wedding - her first real shot at a family - was coming up soon.

She decided to take matters into her own hands.

“What if I pay five thousand for it?” she asked the shop owner next time she walked in.

The list price of the dress was two thousand dollars.

His eyes widened at the question. He was older, with a softly wrinkled face. Hair greying at the temples. A slight bent in his posture, spine starting to waver after years of standing straight.

For a beat, Kara speculated on what it would have been like to have a father like this. To have parents at all. She had lived alone most of her life. Bounced around in the foster system. Few friends at work as an adult, all of whom lived similarly full, busy lives. People who had so much love for her, but never any time for her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meal with anyone other than John.

“Are you sure, my dear?” he asked, snapping her attention back to him.

“Positive,” beamed Kara. “I really want it.”

“You need to be sure,” said the shop owner quietly, “It may not be the right dress for you. Maybe you need more time to think about it?”

Kara smiled at him, sensing her impending victory. “Thank you for your advice,” she said politely. “I am ready.”

The shop owner sighed and took the dress off the mannequin. He bundled it carefully for Kara, wrapping it in delicate white paper. Watched Kara leave with a bounce in her step.

Slowly, carefully, he wrote and placed a note at the corner of his window. “Need to discuss,” it said, simply.

Sure enough, later that night, he was woken by the sound of rustling wings downstairs. He slowly fluttered awake. Limped down to the store from his apartment, which was directly above it for convenience.

Six goddesses tapped six pairs of jeweled feet on the shop floor.

Impatient, glorious, beautiful.

The shop glowed, lit up by their presence.

“What happened?” the tallest goddess asked the shop owner, in greeting. “Why did you call for us?”

“I wasn’t able to help the last person on my list this month,” said the owner, sadly. “A young girl took a dress. I don’t know who she is marrying and whether she is going to be OK.”

“Took it?,” the smallest goddess hissed. A small set of birds floated around her slender neck. The world’s most mobile necklace. The old man fought not to stare.

“How could you let that happen?”

“I couldn’t stop her,” replied the old man. “I tried everything. I tried stalling, I tried warning her. But it is a store after all. Things are for sale. People buy them. Everyone is expected to have a wedding dress.”

“But did you inquire?” the tallest goddess asked irritably. Her bangles jangled as she spoke.

“Did you explain to her what marriage really is? Did you help her understand and decide whether it is the right choice? Did you help her? Or did you just warn her, scare her, anger her into buying it?“

The old man looked stricken.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just assumed she would trust me. That she would heed my warnings. That giving her more time would help her make a more informed decision.”

“Well then,” said the goddess. “I’m not surprised it didn’t work. We may have lost Kara with this approach. Let’s hope she got it right and try again if she comes back to the store for any reason. And let’s do better for the next girl on the list. We can’t lose another daughter’s soul.”

Kara never returned to the store.

Later that year, she married John in one of the most splendid ceremonies ever seen in that little town. John teared up during the ceremony, but Kara could not stop beaming. Her beloved John was finally hers. She finally had a family.

In the middle of their first dance, John’s face nestled into her neck. “Mine,” Kara thought, irrationally happy all of a sudden. “He’s mine.” That thought was followed - suddenly - by another. “I want to bottle this feeling and feed it to my children.”

Every year, the goddesses checked on Kara, clucking in satisfaction that she was whole. Happy. Satisfied with her choice to get married.

They watched their first fight, holding their breaths. Kara screamed in frustration, John groaned in response. The sounds of the fight reverberated in their living room. Kara picked up a book from the coffee table and threw it at John in anger. John’s reflexes kicked in. He caught it deftly, like it was a football. Kara couldn’t help it, she giggled at the sight. They both dissolved into laughter.

Later that night, John held Kara close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean it.” She smiled into the crook of his elbow. “Me too,” she said, drifting to sleep in her safest place.

Kara and John went on to have two lovely children - Lina, a girl, and James, a boy. Lina was just like Kara, imperious, fiercely independent, a soft heart encased in a hard shell. James was like no one they had ever met. Always laughing, always making others laugh.

One summer day, their daughter asked Kara a question over a sun-lit family brunch.

“Can I use your wedding dress, mom, when I get married?”

John looked up from his plate. Kara turned around sharply from pouring herself a second cup of coffee. The birds always chirping around their window slowed their noises, listening in.

“I would really like to have your dress, mom,” said Lina. “It would mean so much to me if I wore it when I was getting married, just like you did. Things are getting really serious in my relationship, you know.”

Kara was the first to speak.

“Of course you can, sweetie,” she said softly. “But first, let’s figure out together if marriage is really for you. It’s a huge commitment, you know. Did you know, I almost married this other man before I met your dad?”

Lina’s eyes widened. John hid his smile.

“I’m so glad I didn’t, in hindsight,” explained Kara. “I’m so glad I waited for your dad. Someone who would make me more, not less, myself…. Now, tell us more about why this feels like the right time.”

The goddess smiled. Checked Lina’s name off the list.

Later that night, the old man awoke in his apartment on top of the shop with a jolt. His wrinkles had deepened. His hair was now fully grey.

He slowly made his way down the stairs.

The shop was empty, lit up with a soft glow.

In the middle sat a box with a bow on top, small birds cooing and nipping around it.

He opened it with trembling hands.

In it was a framed picture of Lina, smiling at the camera, surrounded by her family.

The next day, Kara, John, and Lina walked into the store.

“I’d like the wedding dress in the window please,” grinned Lina.

“Perfect,” said the shop owner, smiling back at her. “Would you like to try it on today?”