Wedded to a Wayne: A Finn World Holiday Romance

I also played with the idea of having a live-in masseur I’d call Winston, even if that wasn’t really his name.

I would be that aunt. The tiara-wearing, crazy auntie to whatever offspring my brothers managed to produce. If, that is, they could stop being stereotypes of toxic masculinity long enough to deserve a decent relatio

nship.

Sure, there’d been a few hiccups in my original plan. My family wasn’t speaking to me and my best friend was in love and moving in with his man. But the rest of it had been a done deal.

Had it? You’ve never gone anywhere exciting. No man has touched you, because you’re too shy to get a massage. You lived a block away from your parents and when you weren’t working or with Joey, you watched reality shows.

But I was going to do all of those things. Someday.

Until I proposed to Emerson.

My lips are still swollen from the kiss he laid on me at the courthouse. Right there in front of Joey and Elliot, in front of his sons, Lang and Barry.

He tugged me up against him until my feet were off the floor and took my mouth as if we were alone and had all the time in the world. The cheers and embarrassed groans around us faded away. Everything faded except for his lips parting mine, his tongue invading my mouth with a skill that left me reeling.

And now we’re riding in polite silence in his minivan. As if nothing has changed. As if this wasn’t, for all intents and purposes, our wedding night.

What did Aunt Tanisha’s advice get me into?

I was named after her, and we always had a special affinity for each other. She made faces while my father lectured us. She snuck me candy and watched Star Wars with me—because it was Joey’s mother’s favorite—making comments that made the movie a million times funnier than it should have been.

The letter I got after her death changed everything.

My darling Two,

Your parents won’t tell you this, and so I must.

It’s a trap.

I’m kidding. I know how you love those space-princess movies of yours, and I thought I could give you one last laugh before passing on some of the hard truths you need to know.

Are you ready?

You are a daughter in a family that elevates sons. You’re outspoken in a world that prefers its women silent. I hope you get that from me.

But the car accident that took your leg gave you yet another obstacle. One that will hinder your ability to have more of a say in your future. Particularly when it’s time to choose a husband.

When the physician informed my father that I couldn’t have children, I became a burden instead of a boon overnight. The match he’d been planning for me, the one that would have given him rich in-laws to lighten his load, was no longer possible. He could not bear the sight of his failure, and so his son was made responsible for me as well as his own family. He brought me with him to America, where his son would eventually move me in with your brothers and you.

I was cared for, and caring for you was a gift, but it was clear I was viewed as the extra baggage of three generations of men. Unable to choose my own path, even though I had two good legs to stand on. Despite their affection, I understood that I would have been separated from everything I knew and loved if I’d chafed against my role. So I accepted.

I managed a few minor rebellions, as you know. I read every book my brother didn’t approve of. I snuck beedi cigars in my room late at night on holidays. I knew they were bad for me, but I’m dead now, so don’t waste time judging me for it.

You remember those little embroidered coin purses and handbags I used to make for you? I started selling them years ago to a shop run by sympathetic women who helped me open an account that my brother didn’t know about. My “hobby” was a bestselling item for years. And every penny has been saved for you, though that wasn’t my plan when I started. It was only after the accident, which everyone else walked away from without a scratch, that I knew who it had to belong to.

Be smarter than I was. Take this money and use it to make more. Build yourself a tower with it, one you can never be taken from without your consent. My nephew is, in some ways, as old fashioned as my father. And your mother is blinded by your brothers, as mothers often are.

For me, you are the best of them. You will find a way to have true independence and keep your family intact. And when the time arrives, you should choose your own husband or refuse to marry at all. If, however, you find a love match and have a daughter of your own, start a fund for her in my name to remember me.

And moisturize. I should have started with that, I think. It’s the only advice I always wished someone had given me when I was your age.

I made you smile again. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. I hope you smile each time you think of me.

I followed her advice as if it were sacred scripture. I used the inheritance to put myself through school and invest in Joey’s idea to save the world through excellence in babysitting.

And yes, I’m militant about moisturizing.