It's Only Love (The Matthews Family)

“Not me. I don’t want any kids,” I laughed. “I’m not even interested in getting married.” Understanding that one wasn’t necessary to do the other.

“You gotta have a baby to be a father,” Stevie said. He is an FBI field agent or at least he was until he recently took a desk job. His wife, Sharon, said that him being in the field so much was putting a strain on their marriage, so he made the change.

“Now that you’ve given up working in the field I’m sure that you and Sharon will have a baby soon,” Rhonda said. “I need some nieces and nephews.”

“No, we won’t be having a baby.”

“Why you say that?” I asked.

Stevie took a deep breath. “I might as well tell you.”

“It’s about time,” Rhonda said. We both noticed that he’d been acting kinda funny since he got here this morning. “Tell us the truth. Save me the trouble of asking.”

“Sharon and I are divorced.”

“What?” I asked. “But you just gave up field work for her. I thought that was the point?”

“I did too,” Stevie said and looked out the window.

“I was right, wasn’t I,” Rhonda said and I wondered what she was talking about. She moved closer and put her arm around Stevie. “She was cheating on you the whole time.”

“Yeah.” He turned and faced her. “She was.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Rhonda said.

“Me, too, Stevie. I’m sorry to hear that. Damn, that’s fucked up.”

“It’s all right.” He kissed Rhonda on the cheek. “All we really got is each other.”

“That’s all we ever needed,” I said and it reminded me once again that the only people that would never let any of us down were all in that limo.

And that was sad, but true.

The wedding went off, well, as well as a wedding can go. Vanessa made a beautiful bride in her simple white dress with elegant lace train and Paul looked pretty cool in tails. Paul and Vanessa decided they would make a few changes in the conventional church wedding ceremony.

Paul came down the aisle flanked on either side by Uncle Don and Aunt Michelle. And Vanessa did the same with her parents. They wanted to be—as they put it: presented—by both of their parents; which made perfect sense to me. Well, as much sense as a wedding can make.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not anti-marriage. I’m sure when the right two people get together it can work. My grandfather loved my grandmother until the day God called her home. So I know that it can work. I’ve just never seemed to find the right one for me. And believe me, I have tried— though unsuccessfully—to find the one, but each relationship ended with me still looking for what I am now starting to think doesn’t exist.

Not the perfect woman; just perfect for me. And me being perfect for her would be great too.

My grandfather told me once that loving a woman is hurt and disappointment. When he told me, I was too young to know what he was talking about. But it stuck with me. Maybe because it’s turned out to be true. Honestly, the only women I’ve ever known that didn’t disappoint me was my grandmother and Rhonda; the best sister in the world. She’s always been there for me. She was there to fight for me when I couldn’t fight for myself. And she was always there to hold me when I used to cry.

It’s okay, Victor. Don’t cry. She didn’t mean it.

Once the ceremony was over, we were all rushed into another room to take pictures. When the last picture was snapped, we headed for the reception that was being held at The River Club. Vanessa chose the venue because of the exquisite view of downtown and the St. Johns River.

We were sitting at the bridal table and I was congratulating Paul and his new wife Vanessa, when she asked me when I was going to find a woman and get married.

“When I find the right one,” I said and hoped that Paul, since he knows how I feel about getting married, would help me out and change the subject.

“You just need to find the right type of woman,” Paul said and kissed his wife.

“I don’t have a type.”

“Yes you do,” Vanessa insisted and picked up her champagne glass.

“Okay, what’s my type?”