Jennie looked outside the small, oval window, out at the blue green shoreline, smiling slightly. She exhaled deeply, and her intertwined pointer and middle fingers uncrossed. A gaggle of seagulls glided through the clear, Cape Cod sky, and Jennie watched them with the delight of a squealing baby- innocent, unscathed. It was then that Jennies mother, Helen, sauntered into the bedroom, calling out to her daughter.

“Jennie, oh Jennie. It’s just BEAUTIFUL. Come here, look at what I brought you.”

But Jennie’s gaze was fixated on the world outside of the bathrooms only, tiny, window. It took Helen coming in and practically dragging her daughter out to the bedroom to move her from the view of the beach below.

“Snap out of it, Jennie”, Helen said sharply. Her eyes narrowed, and then softened once again. When she spoke again, her voice sounded sweet, like strawberry jam.

“It’s your wedding day my love aren’t you excited to see your veil?! It’s ready Jennie. It’s finally ready.” Helen’s eyes were blue like the ocean outside, and they were gleaming with hope, excitement. Jennie stepped towards her mother, holding her two hands. She looked deep into her mothers tired, eyes.

Jennie had never realized how old her mother had looked before. Jennie knew the stress of the wedding was a lot. But her mother looked different. She looked changed. Surely she would go back to normal. Once this was all over, surely her youthful smile will come back, the tired crows feet framing her almond shaped eyes will soften, her laughter will have its old melody to it again, Jennie told herself, managing half a smile. She cleared her throat of the golf ball sized lump that had appeared, and blinked away the tears she didn’t realize she had.

“Yes, mom, my something-borrowed. Your veil- my, no, OUR veil. It’s finally here! Oh, mummy, how did it come out? Please tell me Ana did a nice job with it.”

“Close your eyes,” Helen told her daughter, putting her hands on her daughters shoulders, and guiding her to the antique mirror in the bedroom. She carefully took the veil from its pretty, pink box that was inscribed with “Ana’s” across the top. Her worn, pale hands slightly shook as she picked the veil from the pink box, and gracefully placed it upon the crown of her first borns head. She tucked a curled tendril of strawberry blonde hair behind Jennie’s ear, and straightened the veil softly.

“Ok, my sweet girl, open.”

Jennie’s eyes slowly opened. A soft gasp came from her lips, as she stared at her reflection through the dark white mesh. Her face looked so small underneath the layers of old, once tattered lace that had been restored. The veil was her something-borrowed, her connection to her mother, her grandmother, and the life she was about to leave behind. She couldn’t help but feel like a little girl playing dress up in her mothers clothes, innocent, protected from the outside world. Ana, had in fact, done an outstanding job restoring the headpiece- it was stunning, renewed yet it still breathed life into the past. Helens hairs stood on her arms as a chill rose up from somewhere deep within herself. Suddenly, she was on the other side of the veil, looking at her own face, her skin smooth, her eyes young and full of wonder. The immediate sense of innocence washed over her, and for a moment she felt herself leaving her own body, her vision blurred and her legs wobbled.

A deep knock on the wooden, bedroom door snapped her back to reality. Both women jumped at the sound, and Jennie intuitively grabbed her mothers arm, as if to hold on to her the way she would as a child, some twenty years before. It was Ellison who had knocked, her blazing red head of ferocious curls peeped into the bedroom.

“Oh, Jennie,” she said, looking almost frightened at the hauntingly beautiful girl behind the veil.

“It’s time.”

The attic was blazing hot, so hot, that a dark, white fog lingered in front of Jennie’s eyes. She blinked, but her eyes had gone dry in the days prior. Squinting, she managed to make out a box in the back corner, one she had missed when the movers came the day before. She swatted her pale, shaking hand at the veil of spiderwebs that laced the old walls, making herself small to get to the back of the room, where the box sat, unassuming. Her mouth twisted as she looked down at the pale, pink box. She cocked her head as she tried to recall the origin of the odd box. Grabbing the rag in her back pocket, she wiped the front of the dusty thing, and as she did, the curly, white, script was revealed- “Ana’s”.

It was then that the memory came flooding back with such force she had to steady herself from falling over. Remembering the moment she opened her eyes, first seeing the veil that was once her grandmothers, and then her mothers, her “something borrowed”- a cold chill ran over her. Her dry eyes flooded suddenly, a knot twisted in her stomach. Regret, guilt, anger. Jennie knew what had made her feel so strange on the morning of her wedding day, looking back at someone she barely knew in that antique mirror, her past grieving the woman she was about to become. If only she had trusted herself, her gut feeling. Both her grandmother and mother died alone, being divorced from horrid men who had given them a life of sorrow. Jennie’s aching back was burning, she had to fight to stand up and walk to the stairs. She walked down, wiping the sweat from her brow, breathing heavy. She slammed the attic door behind her, leaving the pink box from Ana’s where she found it. Her daughter was to be married in a month, she had asked for something-borrowed just the day before. But this time, Jennie knew to listen to what her shaky, nauseated stomach was telling her.

Intuition was a tricky thing- the feeling was always there, but what it meant for Jennie, now, knowing what she did, was what she wished she realized it to be back then. Back, before. Before she gave herself to an evil man. Before she lost her mother to a heart attack. Before she grew cold. Before her innocence was stolen. Knowing everything suddenly, her mission became clear. She grabbed her phone, telling Siri to call “daughter”. She had to tell her she had found her “something borrowed”- no, not the veil in the pink box from Ana’s, this time, she would break the generational curse. A curse, cast upon the girls in her family who were too young, blinded by the veil of lust, love, and promises of a happy future to see the truth that was staring back at them the whole time.

Jennie’s daughter answered the phone.

“Mom! Tell me you found my something-borrowed! It’s the last thing I need before the big day. Don’t leave that house until you’ve found it!”

“I’m leaving the house, and locking it up. It’s sold, sweetie, it’s done. Can you meet me at the new place in an hour? No- no need to tell him where you’re going. Just come. It’s not what you think, but I do have something I need to give you. I figured out your something-borrowed.”