Don't Kiss the Bride

“Come in, come in. Make yourself comfortable. We’re so glad you two stopped by. Lucky, you have to look at the washing machine for me,” she says as we move into the living room. “It’s making that clanking noise again and leaking sudsy water.”

I blink to clear my vision, convinced there’s no way I’m seeing everything I’m seeing. But it’s all there, and my heart lurches with excitement.

We’ve stepped inside a time capsule. A house preserved from the 1960s.

I feel like I’m in heaven!

The carpet is a dizzying, orange-and-brown pattern. Orange curtains hang over the windows. Dark-wood paneling covers the walls. My trained eye from scouting flea markets and antique stores tells me all the furniture and decor is obviously authentic, not cheap copies. The awesome thing is, even though it’s all old, it doesn’t look worn, or dirty, like some old houses do when everything has been forgotten, ignored, and never upgraded. A slight floral scent fills the air. Everything here is clean—purposely preserved and taken care of. Like a museum.

I catch Jude watching me as I gape around the room. My heart flutters when he winks at me as our eyes meet.

He knew how much I’d love it here. It’s one of the coolest houses I’ve ever been in.

“We thought Lucky was full of shit when he told us he had a wife,” Uncle Al says from the orange chair in the corner. His voice is deep and gravelly, like he was a smoker for a long time. He reminds me of an old hippie—long white beard and hair, glasses similar to his wife’s, faded tattoos on his arms. A green knitted beanie hat is perched on his head. Jude has his eyes and his bad-boy grin. I’m pretty sure back in the day, Uncle Al and Aunt Suzy were quite the attractive couple.

I smile at him, unsure what to say.

“A fake wife,” Jude corrects, sitting on a matching orange couch and patting the space next to him. “It’s not a real marriage. I told you guys that. We’re just friends.”

I maneuver around the glass, boomerang-shaped coffee table and join him on the couch.

“What kind of bullshit is that?” Uncle Al nods his bearded chin at me. “You okay with that, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I reply, nervous under his stare. “I’m totally okay with it. Jude was nice enough to marry me so I could have health insurance for a while.” I hope I’m giving them the same story Jude did. I wish he had briefed me on the drive over.

Uncle Al points at us. “Well, you do like each other, right?”

Jude and I look at each other and laugh a little. “Sure,” Jude says. “We’re still getting to know each other, though.”

Aunt Suzy flits across the room, stopping at the entry to the kitchen. “I don’t understand why you young kids want to date forever and get to know each other before you get married. The only way to get to know someone is to marry them.”

Uncle Al nods and tugs on his beard. “I married her a month after we met and we never looked back.”

“That’s fuckin’ crazy,” Jude comments.

“I think it’s great,” I say. “So romantic.”

“Life’s too short to wait around,” Uncle Al says. “I liked her, I married her.”

“He was a wild child, just like you, Lucky,” Aunt Suzy calls out from the kitchen. I can’t see her, since there’s a wall between the rooms. Now I see why the new open-concept floorplans are so popular. “It took me years to tame him.”

Uncle Al smirks and shakes his head. “She never tamed me. I just let her think she did.”

“Your house is beautiful,” I say when Aunt Suzy returns with a plate full of crackers and sliced cheese. She places it on the coffee table and sits in a retro, green chair across from us.

“Thank you. Our best years were in the sixties, so we thought, why not surround ourselves with it forever?”

“It’s really cool,” I comment, taking in all the details—statues, vases, lamps, old clocks. Even the TV and radio have that vintage look.

“Most of it is all our original stuff from when we first bought this house.”

“It’s all great ’til it starts to break,” Jude snorts.

“Lucky told us you work in a store and take pictures?” Aunt Suzy asks, ignoring Jude’s remark.

I nod, hoping they don’t think I’m taking advantage of their nephew. “I’m in my last year of high school, but I work part-time at a boutique in town. I work the register, but recently, I got a promotion. Now I take pictures of the products and post them online to promote them and entice people to come to the store. It’s a lot of fun.”

“She’s really talented at taking photos,” Jude adds.

“Good for you. I love photography,” Aunt Suzy remarks.

“You’re how old?” Uncle Al asks me.