THE SURPRISE BRIDE

Writing Prompt: Write about a black and white photograph.

The solemn young man pulled the shredded scarf tighter around his neck to ward off the biting cold of New York Harbor. Philip Reitano missed the glorious warmth he left behind in Messina, Sicily, but the promise of a better life had lured him to America.

Upstate New York was bitter-- working on the railroads brutal and backbreaking--interminable days spent carrying cross ties and laying track. The Italians, especially those from Sicily, detested, considered cowardly thieves from a lawless country. Philip had to work twice as vigilantly as the others, especially the Irish, the hard-drinking, fun loving yet vulgar men who tormented him mercilessly.

In Messina, he had left his betrothed--kissed her goodbye while casting off to a new land where he could prosper then send for her to begin their blessed life together. Under the shadow of Mr. Etna, on many a swarmy night, they had embraced, long, lingering kisses, pledges of eternal love. Beautiful and mysterious, a young girl, long curls, a body that promised endless pleasure. His radiant Angelica. The cross that hung between her breasts and kept him from touching her like he wanted. Glory and agony on those long, steamy nights. Dreaming of her had kept him from total despair on his long journey across the savage ocean, in the godforsaken vessel where he had spent weeks in squalor, hunger, sickness, breathing the stench of human anguish. 

After two years of plaintive missives, he finally sent for her. The devastating news that came to him blew apart his already bleak world. None of the nights spent thrashing in the unforgiving ocean, nor the blows delivered by the pernicious Irish prepared him for this. Soul sucking, gut wrenching sorrow. He had blinked back the tears--God's sake, could imagine what he would ensue should he be seen crying. Yet the tears forced their way out despite all attempts to restrain them.

Angelica had married another. Oh dio che Lei ha desolato io. (Oh God, you have forsaken me.) The suffering, saving, terror, had been for naught. His body which had shuddered in anticipation, now throbbed in sorrow. Nothing to live for. His glorious, ripe Angelica in the arms of another. He wanted to kill the man, rip off his flesh, gouge out his eyes. More than that, he envied him.

The letter informed him another bride was being sent, was already on the ship on her way over. It was a cousin he had never met: Annette Grace. Not Angelia, Annette. He didn't want Annette--hated her before even meeting her.

Yet here he stood at New York Harbor waiting to fetch her after she was processed through Ellis Island. He watched, recalling the trauma, at the wretched, woeful crowd of immigrants marching dispiritedly out the gates. He had no picture of his new intended but was told she would recognize him; all day he stood; watching, worrying, blinking back tears. No one smiled; even the children marched slowly, stiltedly, expressionless.

As he pulled his scarf tighter, a small, grim-faced woman, lank hair, face lined with suffering, approached him tentatively. She was clutching a threadbare bag, wearing a hat that was likely stylish at one time but was crushed and frayed. Sad little woman.

"Philip, è che Lei?" (Is that you?)

"Si, ìaccomodato incontrarLa." (Yes, pleased to meet you.)

Of course, he was not pleased to meet her. This woman, ugly, ordinary, not his Angelica. Taking her bag, they walked quietly toward the street, unspeaking.

Later that day, at St. Patrick's Cathedral, he married Annette--pledged himself to her in front of a God who had betrayed him. They posed for the photographer, both unhappy, miserable; she had freshened up but carried the stench of steerage. The photographer had barked at them to smile, but neither could muster up the energy; they had no money so the photographer didn't bother to waste his time. Just took the photograph.

Years later, their great granddaughter straightened the photograph on her wall. A prized possession. Looking closely into their eyes, she wondered what they were thinking on their wedding day. Wondered why they weren't smiling.