The Marriage Dare

I don’t know when this rabid desire will stop, and I’m not sure that I want it to.

The table full breakfast food is there again, and I eat my fill before getting dressed. I never see anybody put the food out, but I hope I do at some point because it’s delicious.

Alex shows up right on time, breezing in with a bag full of fabric samples and a big sketchpad. “Hello, hello,” she says. “I see in the past couple days a lot has happened between you and Daniel.”

I can’t stop the blush that rushes to my cheeks. It’s true, though. “Yeah,” I say. “I guess so. I’ve been kind of ignoring the news.”

She looks at me sympathetically. “I would say that’s probably a good call.”

I laugh. “Yeah.”

She sits down on the couch and deftly changes the subject. “So, ready to see your clothes?”

“Absolutely.”

Just like Daniel had predicted, Alex has created a collection of clothes that suit me more perfectly than I could have chosen for myself. She took all the elements that I liked of the clothes that she showed me and expanded on those. Every sketch is tasteful, delicate, and understated. “Well,” I tell her. “Daniel said that you were good, but this is more than I ever imagined.”

“Thank you.”

“All of these are perfect.”

She grabs her bag of fabric samples and lays them out on the coffee table. “Just tell me which of these fabrics you like the best, and we’ll use a combination of them.”

We spend a few minutes going through the different fabrics, and she explains to me things about them like how they feel, how they’re made, and the benefits of some compared to others. When we finish, I’m feeling much more relaxed. “Alex, I was wondering if you would help me put together something for tonight. I’m going to have dinner at Daniel’s parents’ house, and I want to make a good first impression.”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “You don’t think you’ll make one?”

“I don’t know.” My hands fidget in my lap even though I try to keep them still. “There’s a lot of history between our families, and not all of it is good. I know that Daniel doesn’t care what I wear, but I’ll feel better if I’m wearing something that I feel confident in.”

She places her hand on my shoulder. “In that case, I’m happy to help.”

I hear my phone ringing in the other room. Only a few people actually call me now, so it might be important. “Excuse me,” I say. “I’m going to answer that, and then I’ll be back and we can talk about it. Maybe we can also talk about my wedding dress.”

Alex beams. “Girl, I have so many ideas for that.”

“I can’t wait to hear them,” I say, as I exit the room.

I left my phone in the bedroom while I took a shower and forgot about it. I’m half expecting to see Daniel’s name on the screen, but the number that I see makes my blood run cold. It’s the number for the correction center where my father is being held. I almost don’t answer it. I almost convince myself that it’s okay to let him go. But decades of me trying to win my father’s approval win out. I press answer. “Hello?” I hear that familiar recorded message that I’m receiving a phone call from an inmate. “Accept.”

“Hello, Monica.”

I swallow. “Hi, Dad.”

“It’s been a while since I heard from you. Thought I’d check in on my favorite daughter.”

I hate that that makes me feel good, I hate that even though I know that he’s not calling to actually catch up on me, that I wish he were. “How are you doing?” I ask.

“I can’t complain for being in jail,” he says, laughing. “There are worse things.”

Every time I talk to my father, I’m reminded of how he could pull off all the things that he’s done. He has an undeniable charisma and charm. Only he could make being incarcerated sound like a fucking vacation. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“But tell me about you,” he says. “Are you kicking ass, my baby girl storming the law offices of the world?”

I laugh. “No, Dad. No one will hire me. Because of you.”

He makes a sound of disapproval. “That’s too bad. I can make some calls for you if you like,” he says. “Even from in here I still have influence. Besides, I may not be in here for that long. If you haven’t heard, I have an appeal.”

“I heard,” I say quietly.

“Excellent,” he says. “Then when I get out of here, you can come work for me.”

I know that telling him no isn’t going to do anything. It didn’t do anything when I was younger. He doesn’t acknowledge the word if it’s not the answer he is already looking for. “Thanks.”