On My Wedding Day, They Tried to Leash Me Like Cattle

The wedding car had barely stopped at the edge of town when Egbert's mother came toward us, all smiles, carrying an animal leash and a length of rope.

"Lucy, dear, by the rules of our hometown, a new bride has to wear this when she comes in, so the groom can lead her home."

"It means you'll be like a good donkey from now on — hardworking, uncomplaining, devoted to the family, good for your husband. Come now, put it on."

The Swanson father stood beside her, stroking his goatee, chiming in.

"This is an old rule handed down by the ancestors. An obedient wife means a life with something to look forward to."

I looked at that filthy leash, then turned to Egbert, standing outside the car door.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

Egbert avoided my eyes and lowered his voice.

"It's just a short walk. Put it on and take a few steps first. Don't make my parents lose face in front of all the relatives."

"You've always been the reasonable one. With this many relatives watching today, you're not thinking of calling off the wedding, are you?"

I looked at him, at how he took it all for granted, and let out a cold laugh.

"And if I don't wear it?"

The Swanson father hardened his face.

"Don't wear it, don't expect to come in. Returned like a bad purchase on your own wedding day. Let's see if you can stand the shame!"

I looked at this family and their ugly faces, and I laughed out loud.

"What a coincidence. My hometown has a custom too."

His mother blinked. "What custom?"

"Before the bride gets out of the car, the groom's parents have to lie flat on the ground as a footstool for me to step over."

"It means every step of my life will rise higher, and I'll never bow my head."

"…"

The moment I finished, the kindly mask on his mother's face changed in an instant.

"The world's turned upside down. She actually dares make the groom's parents let her step on them. City women just need to be broken in."

"The Swanson family hasn't produced a disobedient wife in eight generations. Today we're going to set the rules straight with you, no matter what!"

The father spat on the ground and turned to call out to the crowd behind him.

"Don't just stand there. Surround the car. If we can't get her in line today, where's the Swanson family supposed to put its face?"

Dozens of people came pouring out, the men with cigarettes hanging from their mouths, the women with hands on their hips.

All of them relatives of the Swanson clan.

I lifted my head and looked at Egbert outside the window.

For three years he'd always seemed gentle, his voice never too loud or too soft, never once raising his temper at me.

But now his face was dark as he yanked at the door handle and growled at me, low.

"Lucretia, what nonsense are you talking? Apologize to my parents right now."

My hand stayed pressed on the door lock, clamped tight, my eyes fixed on his.

"Egbert, did you know about this rule all along?"

His gaze darted away, his lips pressed thin, and he didn't deny it.

In that moment, I understood everything.

Then Egbert's voice shifted into a tone I'd never heard from him before, the corner of his mouth even curling up.

"You took the hundred-thousand-dollar bride price. Today, even if you were a dog, you'd still be getting the chain on and led home."

The villagers watching burst into laughter.

"That's right, a woman who won't listen, strap on the leash and give her a couple of beatings, she'll settle down quick enough."

My fingers clenched the hem of my wedding dress.

My parents had felt sorry for how poor his family was. Asking for a bride price had only been a formality, and they'd handed all of it right back to us.

Even this wedding, from start to finish, had been paid for by my family.

His family's contribution, by my guess, came down to this one leash — worn who knew how many years.

And in the rearview mirror, the bridal procession was blocked solid by a tractor and a red banner dozens of yards back.

My relatives were all trapped outside the edge of town, surrounded and pressed for red envelopes.

Across the crowd and the roar of the tractor, nothing happening on this side could reach them.

I turned to the driver.

"Reverse."

The driver had just shifted into reverse when Egbert's mother sprang to the back of the car and lay down flat on the ground.