Marriage of Unconvenience
“Yes, he does. Not to like, ‘give you away’ or any of that patriarchal crap, but he wants to see it like I do. We went to every single one of your dance recitals and spelling bees and softball games. This is no different.” I suppose I could get it when she put it that way.
“Let me check with Cara and then I’ll let you know. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, but I don’t want to say yes and make her uncomfortable. I still can’t believe she’s going along with this and isn’t bailing. I feel like I almost bailed when we decided on a day.” I stopped pacing and sat down on my bed and leaned back on my pillows.
“Why?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know. I guess that made it more concrete and real. I keep waiting for this thing to blow up, or for someone to tell me this was all a joke, or to get arrested or something for faking this thing. I guess it just seems too good to be true?”
Mom was quiet for a moment.
“Sometimes that’s true. And sometimes you get the best gifts of all when you least expect them, or think you don’t deserve them.” I had the distinct feeling she was talking about Dad.
“Just don’t let doubt ruin something amazing. You deserve good things in life, Loren. You and Cara.” There was a lump in my throat and I had to hang up quickly so I didn’t cry on the phone. I wiped away a few stray tears and sighed. I wasn’t going to let myself ruin this. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
EVEN THOUGH IT TOOK up a lot of real estate in my room, I hung my dress up so I could see it all the time and remember what it was like when I walked out of the dressing room and saw Cara. It made my hands tingle just remembering it.
Lisa moved out way before her deadline. One day I came home and all her shit was gone. Including a lot of the living room furniture, all the kitchen items (including MY pots), and even the shower curtain. What a bitch, but good riddance.
That night I was up until two in the morning moving all my furniture from my room to the room formerly known as Lisa’s. I had to clean a lot first. For someone who was so obsessed with everything being clean and in place in the rest of the house, her room was disgusting. I spent half my time scrubbing and getting rid of dust and other... stains. Part of me wondered if I was going to find a body under the floorboards or something. At last I got everything moved and went the living room, which was a fucking disaster. I decided to deal with that one another day. Plus, since Cara was going to move in, we could get our own stuff. And not a couch that we found on the side of the road, either. We could get real stuff. Adult stuff. Stuff that wasn’t pre-owned. I was excited about that too.
I got a few more job rejections and finally, FINALLY, an interview. I put on my best outfit and went to the hair salon, but I could tell immediately that I wasn’t going to get the job. Firstly, the kind of clientele was upscale and fancy. Chanel and red-soled shoes and perfume that you didn’t get at a drugstore. Coifed and traditional and conservative. I got through it, but I knew they weren’t going to be calling me back, and I was okay with that after overhearing a client abusing her stylist for doing exactly what the woman had asked for, but the customer decided that it wasn’t what she wanted and blamed the stylist for not listening to her. I didn’t want to be part of that, even if I was just sitting at the front desk.
I applied for more jobs, widening my net and going for anything that I thought might be interesting, even if I wasn’t qualified. The worst they could do was say no to me. I didn’t care if I got rejected via email. Didn’t matter.
I also thought about other things. Cara was going to school and while I had my bachelor’s degree in communication, it hadn’t exactly helped me find a job, and it wasn’t really what I wanted to do. The idea of managing the social media of company made me want to cry. I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to do something that mattered. I didn’t want to be just one part of a whole machine whose only purpose was to make rich people richer. Unfortunately, those were most of the jobs that were available to me. Such fun.
On Tuesday afternoon, we went to the courthouse and got our marriage license. The whole thing was truly anticlimactic. We just had to show ID, swear that we wanted to get married, sign, and that was it. No fireworks, no fanfare.