It's been a few hours since your wedding. With the time difference, you're probably asleep by now.
I haven't paid much attention to you, or to your nuptials. I remember a few years ago hearing that you and William had broken up, at least for awhile. I think that was substantiated, not some absurd rumor. It makes me wonder, now, what it was about, if you think those issues have been resolved.
I looked up pictures of your dress online this morning. Since I'd heard the woman who took over McQueen's empire--she of the butterfly dresses and the intricate towering shoes--was the designer, I hoped your dress might be something remarkable. Instead, it was almost boring, so stifled by convention and what I imagine to be the Queen's ideas of decency that it seemed to have no character.
What did strike me, though, was your face. You seemed genuine, your smiles and waves a true expression, though not one of what I might call love--though it was nearer that than William's big-lipped grimaces.
I wondered, thinking about those pictures afterward, if you knew the family you were getting into. I thought about the way Charles was said to have treated Diana, about how those boys must have grown up. I wondered if one could ever win an argument against the Duke of Cambridge. I thought of the repetition of the headlines, "Prince William to Marry Commoner Kate Middleton," the "commoner" tolling over and over again like the distant sound of a funeral bell. One could never hope for any sort of equality in a relationship with that "commoner" forever ringing in the background.
I wonder, too, about the breach in your thought that must have allowed you to walk down that aisle today. I wonder how much of it might have been a political move on the part of the Royal Family, since so much of the British population seemed to find you charming. I wonder if you had fallen victim to the golden cup of poison that is our childhood fairy-tale, as so many of the people obsessed with your wedding seem to be.
You looked so fragile, in those photos, tiny breasts smoothed over with white satin, an infinitesimal waist, that bright smile. You seemed destined to break under the weight of your marriage, dragging along behind you like your absurd train. I wanted to tell you, like a friend, "Don't do this. This is not going to be the life you want."