That morning I woke up before dawn, put on a simple ivory dress, and tried to ignore that silly feeling. On the way to the Registry, Rodrigo was unusually quiet. His rang several times. He glanced at it and put it away without answering.
When we arrived, she said she had to take a work call and walked off toward a tree. I stayed in the doorway, straightening my dress, when an older woman, wearing a worn dark coat and with her gray hair pulled back, approached me to ask for water. She looked like she’d slept on the street, but she had the most alert eyes I’ve ever seen.
I gave her a small bottle I had in my bag. She took a couple of sips, grabbed my wrist, and opened my palm as if she were going to read it.
“If you marry that man, your life will be shortened,” she told me in a low voice.
I felt a chill.
-Sorry?
Listen carefully. If he gives you a paper to sign today, don’t sign it. Tell him to do it later. Even if he gets angry. Even if he pressures you. Don’t sign it.
I wanted to pull away and tell her she was crazy, but at that moment Rodrigo came back. He didn’t even turn to look at her. He grabbed my elbow harder than necessary and pulled me inside.
We got married.
I signed the papers. I smiled for the photos. I received hugs, toasts, and congratulations. My mother cried. My mother-in-law, Teresa, looked at me with that elegant coldness I never understood. Everything seemed normal… until, already in the car on the way to dinner, Rodrigo took a beige folder out of the glove compartment.
“All we need to do is go to the notary,” he said, as if he were talking about traffic. “It’s a property agreement, just a formality. You sign it today and we can forget about it.”
I felt the woman’s voice echoing in my head.
“I’m not going to sign anything today,” I replied.
Rodrigo didn’t respond immediately. He just gripped the steering wheel. His jaw tightened, hard, ugly, unfamiliar.
