That’s what my aunt said as she was telling the story, but naturally she didn’t describe everything in such graphic detail. They got her husband smashed the night of the wedding. Later, they said to him, “I’m telling you! You shouldn’t have had that last glass!” The hapless groom passed out, and after stripping him, the women of the bride’s family put him into the nuptial bed, the satin sheets of which my aunt had dyed to look bloodied. Her finest work. Because I was so young, the women spoke of it in whispers. The sound of their voices, like a breath of wind, had frightened me. “I’d always
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