“Ok, D. I will tell you.” I just hope it doesn't break me.
Chapter Four
Teresa
I don’t want to tell him anything because I know he’ll be upset, and nothing is to be done now. Instead of telling him everything, I tell him what I think is the easiest to handle.
“I was starved, slapped in my face, and moved around a lot.”
“Starved?” His voice is strangled.
“I went for days without eating, but honestly, those first few weeks, everything I ate came right back up. Our baby didn’t want beans and rice,” I say, giggling.
“How can you laugh about it?” he asks.
“How can I not? I’m alive, and you can’t change the past.”
“Baby, it kills me that I couldn’t save you,” he says, his voice dark. I make him loosen his death grip on me and roll over to face him.
“You did save me,” I tell him, placing my hand on his cheek.
“After I got you into the situation in the first damn place.”
“D, please. Let it go. You’ve got to for your sanity. Also, my dad’s right hand, Juan Sánchez, betrayed him. He took me. I don’t think my dad knows. He’d be dead if he did. My aunt was helping him. That was the strangest part.”
“That was the strangest part?”
“Yes. She is so family-honor-oriented. I couldn’t believe it.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he looks pensive. I don’t say anything either. I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make any of it better. Eventually, I fall asleep. In the morning, I wake up, and he’s not in bed.
I take the hottest shower I can stand and languish in it. Last night’s “shower” was perfunctory and pleasurable; this is pure indulgence on my part. I stand under the water and let it massage my aching body. Slowly, I wash up and use his razor that is sitting on the ledge to shave my legs. Three months of leg hair is no fucking joke. I bring his razor out of the shower and set it on the counter, making a mental note to tell him I used it. I used my dad’s once when I was a teenager, and he was not a happy camper when he cut his face to shit. Afterward, I dry off with a plush towel and pull on a dress shirt of D’s that I find in the closet. It’s like a dress on me. When I go out into the living room, another couple is sitting on the couch.
“I was just going to wake you up, baby,” he says.
“Really? Who are these people?” I ask politely.
“This is Bill Jorgensen and his wife, Daisy. He’s a pastor, and she’s going to be our witness.”
“Witness?”
“Will you excuse us for a moment?” D asks.
“Of course,” Bill says. D leads me into the kitchen.
“This isn't how I wanted to do this, and God knows you probably don’t want it this way, but we’re getting married now.”
“Married?”
“I need you tied to me in every way,” he says. His face is so earnest, and his eyes are pleading with me, or at least it seems that way to me.
“I’ll marry you, Diezal. Any time and in any way. I’m going to be the best wife you’ve ever had,” I tell him, grinning like a loon.
“You’re the only wife I’ll ever have. Til death do us part, baby. Death do us part.” He kisses me quickly before grabbing my hand and leading me back out into the living room. “We’re ready.”
“Very good. How do you want this?”
“Short and fast,” D says, making me laugh.
“This isn’t our first living room quickie wedding,” Daisy says, also laughing. “You’d be surprised how often it happens in Bleak, Moosehead, and Freedom. Men here don’t wait for anything.”
“I believe it,” I say. If D is any indication of what men are like here, there would be no need to deny it.
“Alright. Let us begin. “Do you, Diezal Del Vecchio, take…”
“Teresa Evangeline Montero,” I supply, giggling. I can’t stop laughing. I am so excited right now. There is nothing I wanted more than to marry this man, and now it’s happening. I don’t even care if it's so sudden.
“Do you, Diezal Del Vecchio, take Teresa Evangeline Montero to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” he responds, squeezing my hand.
“And do you, Teresa Montero, take Diezal Del Vecchio to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” I say.
“Then, by the power vested in me by God almighty and the great state of Minnesota, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
“Thank fuck,” D says before kissing me.
“Sign here and here,” Daisy says when he lets me go. I sign my name with a dramatic flourish, dotting the I in Evangeline with a heart, and hand him the pen. He signs his name with military precision.
“I’ll get this filed with the county, and you should be able to get a certified copy within three days. Colette, the registrar, usually does them the same day, but being Friday, let’s say Tuesday. I have two weddings this weekend.