The Belarusian Bride

"You look lovely, dear."

"Oh, Mum. Stop saying that."

"Why? Today, my only daughter is getting married. I'm excited, and you do look lovely. That dress must have cost at least a thousand euros."

"25.000 euros, Mum. It's a handmade Secret of Victoria wedding dress."

The bride looked in the mirror. Her mother was right: she did look lovely. The strict diet of bread and water had made her lose twenty-three kilos, two boxes of make-up had hidden the black-blue bags below her eyes, the make-up artist had even painted some healthy colour on her pale cheeks, the hairdresser had done miracles with what was left of her hair after the rats ate from it...

"You do look lovely, dear. You'll see: everything will work out fine; today will be the finest day of your life and the first day of your new life."

"Oh, stop being so optimistic, Mum. You know I didn't have a choice. It was this, or death. You know I don't love him and I don't think he loves me. How can you think it will work out fine? It's going to be hell."

Mum was not designed to lose her optimistic mood: "Love is such an overestimated sentiment. There are more important things in marriage than love. When a man has a nice job and a stable income, that's worth something too. He's a decent man, he doesn't drink, he only smokes an occasional cigar, he's always well-shaved and well-dressed, he's educated, he's healthy and in a good shape, and he always has nice conversations at the dinner table. There are lots of men who are not capable of producing such an outstanding curriculum, you know. This includes your father, my ex-husband, who was always drunk and fighting. I don't care if the General loves you or not; he will take good care of you. If he ever hurts you, break those chains that bind you and go your separate ways. You know I'll always love you. You'll never walk alone."

The bride fought her tears. She knew her mother was right. All this was nobody's fault but her own. She had fucked up big time. A month ago, she saw only one way out of the gutter: down the drain. When her gaming custom turned from an obsession into a 24/7 addiction, she lost more than control: she lost her job and her income, the local pizza delivery stopped supplying her when the bills reached the level of the national high score, she didn't sleep, she didn't move, she even stopped going to the bathroom. There was absolutely no chance she'd celebrate her twenty-seventh birthday if she kept going on like that; something had to change, but she herself was not capable of making it happen.

Then the odds turned into evens. Someone tipped the General: the one who held the online world record of Zombie Killer VI lived in his own country, Belarus, even in his hometown. Suddenly, the General was interested in meeting her. He didn't know she was a woman, and he didn't know how to contact her, but someone else made the connections, and that was the first step. She remembered the day when they found her, the torture and unbearable pain, how she cried for seven days and seven nights after they had turned off the electricity and she was offline for the first time in over thirteen years. The therapy was hard, with lots of exercise, lots of vitamins, group sessions with other ex-gameaholics, and an entire week of long, long hours on the doctor's couch.

Then the General came in. She remembered the moment like it was yesterday. It was, in fact, yesterday. He said: "If someone like you would fall into the hands of the enemy, our country would lose the war. If you were a man, I would make you a Captain of our army, so I could send you on the most dangerous missions. That would solve my problem. But we are still a macho country. We don't allow women or gays to serve in the military, only expendables and former criminals. So I give you a choice: marry me, or you will be shot."

The bride had chosen the wedding ring.

"I should have chosen the bullet."

Her mother rearranged the front of her dress and wove the remark away: "Nonsense. Marriage is not the end. It's a new beginning. The General is quite a handsome man. He has a strong and athletic body. I bet he's a good dancer too."

"Mum! I'm twenty-six. He's fifty-one. He's old enough to be my father. If you like him that much, why don't you put on this dress and marry him today?"

Mum stopped messing up the dress, looked her daughter in the eye, and asked: "Are you serious? Do you hate him that much? Or is it because you can't live without your game console? Do you want to return to that dungeon and that game console again? You know I won't allow you. I hated to see you falling away in that virtual world of death and decay, obsessed with fighting zombies and finishing levels. You know it hurt me, and there was nothing I could do. You're my only daughter, dear. I hope, one day, you'll find the happiness of being a mother yourself, and I hope you'll see your daughter grow up as a healthy and happy woman. You will never know how much pain and sorrow I have suffered, with an alcoholic and violent husband, and a daughter, addicted to online gaming. You don't know what you're saying if you prefer to die, instead of marrying a fine man like the General."

The daughter took her mother's hands, took a deep breath, and took a decision: "I love you, Mum. You can trust me. I'm on Prepoleptyl now. Gaming is no longer an issue for me. I won't fall back into my old behaviour. Don't worry about that. My therapy has finished, and it was successful: I realise the damage I've done, to myself and the ones... the one who loves me. I promise you: I'm cured. It won't happen again. But you have to believe me: I don't love the General, and I will never love him. He's marrying me because he's afraid I'll help the enemy if the next war breaks out. That's crazy. I'm an expert in Zombie Killer VI; the next war will be fought by specialist players of Mortal War Zone IX. I've never played that game in my life. I would be useless if a war broke out. I tried to explain my points to the General, but he didn't want to listen. He's obsessed with war. He needs someone who can teach him to make love, not war... But I can never be that person... I don't love him..."

Mum didn't expect that. It was just too many emotions in too little time. A tear escaped her eye. She had to sit down, to think about it.

"Do you mean that?... That you love me?"

The bride gave her mother a big hug. It felt good. She hadn't hugged anyone for a long, long time. This hug made up for all those wasted years: "Oh, Mum... Of course, I love you. I've always loved you. You were always there for me, even when I wasn't there for anybody. Of course, I love you. You're my mother."

"Do you promise me you won't touch a game console for the rest of your life? Do you promise you won't return to that awful addiction that almost killed you?"

"I promise. I want to make you happy."

Mum took a deep breath, again. This was an important moment. She knew her decision would have a huge impact on the rest of her life, but she also knew she wouldn't be alone. Someone would always be there for her, to help her. She made her decision: "Deal."

"What «deal»?"

"Take off that dress. We are about the same size. Under cover of the veil, the General will not notice the difference. I will marry him. When he lifts the veil to kiss the bride, it's already too late. I will take over your mission. I will love him so much that he'll forget everything about making war. You can trust me. I will sacrifice myself for my country and for world peace. Take off that dress. We have to hurry. The ceremony starts in less than an hour."

The daughter was surprised: "Are you serious? We can't do that..."

"Of course, we can. Together, we can do everything. You don't love the General and he's too old for you, but I like him a lot. He's a decent man. There aren't many decent men in this world who are available for marriage, not men of my age. I've had my years of bad luck with your father, but that book is closed. Now, I want to look forward. I look forward to opening the dance in the arms of the General tonight, dressed in a 25.000-euro handmade Secret of Victoria dress, admired and envied by all the high society of this country. I bet you the General is a great dancer. And when a man is a great dancer, he's a great lover too. That's one little secret I can tell you from my own experience."

The daughter couldn't believe it, but she was, somehow, happy she didn't have to marry the man she didn't love. Her mother seemed so happy... She didn't give it a second thought and kicked off her shoes: "Help me with the buttons on my back, please. We have to bind your long hair together behind your head, so he won't notice until he lifts the veil to kiss the bride."

Mum was already in her underwear: "I'm glad I decided to stop paying your bills for pizza and booze. That forced you to switch to bread and water, which made you lose all that fat. Now we are about the same size. The dress will fit me like a glove."

The dress fitted like a glove.

Suddenly the daughter thought of something: "Who will walk you to the altar? With her father in jail for fighting in a bar, the bride would be taken to the altar by her mother. You can be me, but I can't possibly become you without the entire country noticing the switch. I can't hide my true identity under a veil like you. I can't become my mother in... less than half an hour. What do we do?"

It was indeed a serious problem. But mothers are extraordinary creatures: not only do they suffer unbearable pains while giving birth to their children, not only do they sacrifice most of their lives for their husbands and offspring, not only do they combine their job as manager of domestic affairs with an out-of-house profession to add financial stability to her family, on top of that, mothers are also creative inventors of solutions for almost every imaginable problem: "I have an idea. Do you remember the man who found you and took you out of that dungeon?"

The daughter doubted: "Yes, I remember him, but I don't know his real name. He told me to call him The Diplomat. Why?"

"He's here. If you have his phone number, you can call him and ask him to take the bride to the altar because her mother has fainted because of all the emotions."

"That's an excellent idea. I will call him right away."

The Diplomat didn't ask questions. He listened and agreed.

Both mother and daughter were relieved, eager to find out if the trick would work, but also excited and enjoying this day for being the best day ever in the life of a woman, of two women.

"You look lovely, Mum."

"Oh, dear. Stop saying that."

"Why? Today, my mother is getting married. I'm excited and you do look lovely. Oh, there's one more thing you need to know. Where do I have that phone..."

The daughter searched the purse that went with the dress and took out a small phone. She gave it to her mother and said, with a serious face: "This is important. You're in the army now. If the General, in his sleep, by any chance, mutters the secret launch codes of the nuclear missiles, please record them or write them down. Send them with this phone to #2. That's the promise I had to make to the people who saved me from the dungeon. Can you do that for me?"

Mum smiled: "For you, my dear, I'll do anything."