Never the Bride

  “Just a little,” I say, holding my hand out.

  “Yes, I know,” he smiles, pouring way more than a little. “You don’t drink much. Weird, but I respect that.”

  I can get a buzz off cooking wine evaporating from a skillet. I take a small sip, just to be polite, and thread my fingers between his. “This is nice.”

  “Yeah.”

  I glance up at him and catch him smiling at me. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, I can tell. Something.” I poke him in the ribs.

  “Okay, look.” He turns to face me. “Jessie, this might sound, well, you know, really strange.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t know. I just get this feeling like…it’s timing. This timing. I can’t get over how I was there and you were there and…it feels like it means something.”

  I squeeze his hand. He is looking deeply into my eyes. As deep as a human can look, anyway. “I’m certain it does, Clay. Timing means everything, you know?”

  “Yeah. And I really think now would be a great time to just go for it.”

  My heart flutters, then stops, then restarts at twice the speed. “Really? Clay…really?”

  He kisses me on the cheek, then moves his lips to my ear. “Let’s move in together.”

  I drop his hand. Accidentally. I quickly pick it back up from my lap. He moves away from my ear to look at me. He’s smiling, sort of that sultry eyelids-half-closed kind of look. Funny, but it’s not a good look for him.

  “Look,” he says. “I know. This is what caused problems for us before. I asked, you sort of freaked out, and things went downhill from there.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  He asked, I said no, he moved on to Gwyne who moved in with him four weeks later.

  “Jess, don’t we have something special here?”

  I nod.

  “And let’s face it, we’re not getting any younger.”

  Thanks for the “we.”

  “Come on,” he says, stroking my cheek. “I don’t want to be without you.”

  I’m starting to wonder if it’s that Clay doesn’t want to be without. The guy is striking me as having the inability to be alone. But then he touches my chin. “I love you.”

  So, this is it? This is my “finally”? Except moving in together is more like a “maybe.” Still, I find myself thrilled to hear those three little words.

  I look at him and we have this moment. My whole body feels warm. When his fingers touch my skin, it tingles.

  “I love you too.”

  twenty-one

  I like shopping at night. Around eleven o’clock, the store is mostly empty and they’re restocking the shelves. I want to hum, but I don’t, because there’s something stuck in my throat.

  Hesitation?

  Regret?

  Pure joy?

  Maybe fear.

  I don’t know. All I know is that next weekend, I’m moving in with Clay Matthews. It feels real and good and—okay, maybe a little bit misguided. But isn’t relationship all about compromise? And didn’t God tell me I wasn’t ready for marriage, anyway?

  I’m about to order baloney from the deli when I hear, “Jessie?”

  I almost don’t turn because I am trying not to react to voices these days. But I recognize it and glance over my shoulder. “Nicole!”

  “I didn’t recognize you with the, uh, wig?”

  “No, it’s mine.” I tug at it and smile, though it’s getting a little annoying having to explain this all the time. “Just trying something new.”

  She pulls me into a hug. “Where have you been? I’ve left a couple of messages.”

  “I’m smack-dab in the middle of a whirlwind romance.”

  Nicole steps back. “Shut up! Really?”

  “Really,” I say, beaming and swinging my arms like I’m twelve. “It’s been unbelievable!”

  She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the cheese. “Tell me all about him.”

  “Well, you already know him.” I pull at my hair and study her face. “It’s Clay.”

  “What?” Expressions don’t lie. She’s more shocked than when I showed up at the office with my blond hair.

  “Yeah. Clay Matthews. You remember him, don’t you? We—”

  “Remember him? Jessie, I almost plotted a murder against that guy! I have seriously never hated anyone more than him.”

  I hold my hands. “I know, I know. But Nicole, he’s changed. He really has. And so have I. I think we have a good shot this time.”

  Nicole doesn’t look convinced, at least if I’m reading her body language right. Her arms keep crossing tighter and tighter across her chest, like a boa constrictor or something.

  “What’d he do with Gwyne? Dump her?”

  “Actually…” I lean in. “He got dumped.” I’m surprised at how good I feel when I say that. Wasn’t it sympathy that brought me to him?

  “No!”

  I can’t help myself. “When he proposed to her in front of a lot of people.”

  Nicole is gasping with the delight. “Oh! That’s beautiful!”

  We both stand there smiling like it’s our birthday. Then I realize I’m supposed to be on his side now.

  “So the jerk came crawling back to you?” Nicole says, and a lady pushing a shopping cart past us smiles.

  I wait until she leaves. “Not exactly. It’s fate, actually, that brought us together.” I explain how I planned the entire proposal.

  Nicole still looks skeptical.

  “I know, Nic, I know. It sounds crazy. But haven’t you noticed the greatest romances are about timing? I mean, I’ve been on these stupid online sites and dating services, trying to make things work. And what happens? Destiny befalls me and I find happiness.”

  “But maybe it was just coincidence.”

  “No. We connected.”

  Nicole shakes her head. I can tell she’s trying very hard to be supportive, but it’s killing her. “Okay.” She puts a hand on my shoulder and lets a smile emerge. “Just promise me you will take this very, very slow.”

  I want to listen to my best friend in all the world, except—“We’re moving in together next weekend.”

  Nicole actually yelps.

  “Look, Nicole, I appreciate your concern. I really do. And I realize it’s ironic that I am back together with a guy who left me because I wouldn’t move in with him. But don’t you see the complete circle here? The woman who did move in with him broke up with him. And now he wants the woman who wouldn’t move in with him. But this time I’m willing to. It’s a circle. See?” I draw one in the air.

  “You’re in some kind of shape, but I don’t know that it’s a circle.” She reaches down and starts inspecting the cheese.

  “I’ve waited my whole life for romance, Nic. Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted what my parents had. When they died, I guess I wanted to carry on their love. I know that sounds stupid, but it meant something to me. Except I failed. I failed to ever find what they had. I searched as hard as I could, you know? You’ve seen me. Haven’t I worked hard?”

  Nicole nods reluctantly but doesn’t look up at me.

  “Yes, I have. Harder than any woman should have to work to find romance. And now here I am, and it’s fallen right in my lap. I’m out trying to give my ex a perfect wedding proposal—and I’m doing it even though it’s painful—and I’m rewarded. You probably don’t understand this, Nicole, because you’ve been blessed with a beautiful family that came together like you were following some kind of recipe”—she looks up sharply and begins to say something, but I go on—“but for me, luck has been nowhere to be found. I’m as unlucky as it gets when it comes to romance. So this is my moment. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life.”

  I realize I’m giving a monologue in the deli section of a grocery store, but I don’t care. This is good stuff.

  “And yeah, maybe it’s not what I had envisioned. I mean, I’ve never been a big fan of the test run, b
ut I’m more mature now. Moving in together is a huge step for both of us, and he’s willing to make that step. He’s been through a terrible ordeal, and I happened to be there to help him out of it.”

  “Can we say rebound?” Nicole mutters.

  I hold my head up high. “Perhaps one would use the word ‘rebound,’ but we’re not a set of basketballs. We’re two human beings searching for something, and we’ve found ourselves on the same court of life.”

  “Oh brother.”

  “Okay, maybe that’s not a good analogy because it makes it sound like this is a sport and I’m game, but the point here is that life is competitive and if you don’t move quickly, you’ll lose. Not that I’m moving quickly so I don’t lose the game. That would, of course, go against every fiber of my being.” I take a breath. “Clay loves me. I love him. We’ve always had a special connection, and it’s time to explore it more deeply. Sure, we had a three-year hiccup. All right, admittedly, ‘hiccup’ sounds too innocuous. It was more like the superstrain of a virus, but the point is that we’ve both grown over the years, and even though it seems like we’ve picked up exactly where we ended, I’m choosing to see this as a new beginning.”

  Nicole has given up on the cheese and is studying me. She’s nodding but not like she’s agreeing. More like she’s urging me to take another breath.

  I do, and what follows shocks both of us. I fall into her arms and sob on her shoulder. “I’m making a terrible mistake, aren’t I? What am I doing? I’ve lost my mind!”

  She hugs me tightly. “Yes, you have, but I think you just got it back, honey,” she says, stroking my hair.

  “What if it never gets any better than this?” I wail.

  An older woman grabbing a package of cheddar says, “Dear, it’s why they created cheese. Melted cheese will never disappoint you.”

  I laugh and Nicole lifts me off her shoulder, cupping my face in her hands. “You are worth more. You are worth a guy who is willing to stake everything he has on you, not some guy who wants to give you a test run while he picks up the pieces of his life.”

  “I know,” I say, wiping my tears. “I’m just so tired of being rebounded and dribbled and thrown and shot off the backboard and passed back and forth and—”

  “Okay, let’s get you off the basketball analogy. You don’t even like sports.”

  “I like swimming.” I sniffle. “Except I’m drowning right now.”

  “Trust me. You’re not drowning. Not at all. You’re doing great.”

  I take a deep breath and gather myself. “We need to have lunch. I miss you.”

  Nicole and I spend another thirty minutes together talking, my pouring out my heart, her reassuring me I’m a complete, whole person. Finally we hug and say our good-byes, and I watch her head to the diaper aisle. I stare at the cheese for a moment. There really is power in feather-shredded cheddar, but it honestly doesn’t hold a candle to cocoa. But instead of going for candy, I grab my basket and head for the hair color aisle.

  I’m still not sure what sport I’m playing, but whatever it is, it’s time to get myself back in the game. On my terms.

  I find the towering wall of hair color and am once again amazed at the choices. There’s brunette, blond, and red—of a hundred varieties. And I have no idea if I’m color 524. It looks right on the package, but my hand withdraws as I see color 519. And honestly, I’m eying the reds too. Maybe a little fire on the scalp will give me a new perspective.

  Suddenly I see a hand. It’s holding a box of hair color. Number 548 to be exact.

  “Hi,” He says. A feeling of complete relief floods over me. I want to hug Him, but I’ve already made a scene once at the supermarket. And I still don’t know if He’s real, but right now I don’t care. I take the box from Him.

  “Thanks.” I can’t stop smiling at Him.

  “Let’s walk and talk,” God says. “I like spending time with you.”

  I plug my earpiece in and grab my buggy, pushing it toward the candy aisle.

  “I like that too,” I say. “It’s just that I wish You could do normal things, like dinner. Not that I don’t appreciate Your ability to walk through walls.”

  “Why not dinner?”

  I shoot Him a look as I grab a sack of dark chocolate. “You’re funny.”

  “Teriyaki chicken and snow peas. Tomorrow night, 7:24. Your place.”

  “At 7:24? You’re very quirky, You know.” I smile and start to glance at Him. “I’m glad You’re ba—”

  He’s gone.

  I’ve pounded the chicken to a quarter of an inch thick, marinated it for two hours, and put it in the pan with olive oil, shallots, and pineapple. I keep an eye on the clock. I don’t know if He meant exactly 7:24 or not, but I don’t want to overcook the chicken. And I am questioning His food choice. I mean, I love teriyaki, but I figured He’d prefer something like a knish or matzo ball soup. I’m rinsing the snow peas when I hear the doorbell ring. Right on time at 7:24. And that’s amazing too, because I set my clocks forward five minutes, so He’s actually on time by my time. He really is into the details.

  I open the door. He’s standing there looking a little shocked.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I was wondering if…well, we could start over.” His hands are stuffed deep into the pockets of his nicely pressed pants.

  I laugh and grab His arm, pulling Him in. “Come in. Since when do You ring doorbells?”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind who likes people to barge in.”

  “You know me well.”

  He follows me into the kitchen. “Wow, smells great. What are you cooking?”

  I laugh again. “Truly, I wouldn’t have figured You for teriyaki. But I love it.”

  “Me too. But I don’t want to impose. That’s not true. I really want to impose.”

  I grin at Him and gesture to the table. “Set for two.”

  “It’s almost like you were expecting Me.”

  “Well, You are good at dropping hints.”

  “I didn’t think you noticed. I did try being more subtle with you.”

  “You’re a little hard to ignore.”

  He leans on the counter and watches me cook. “Okay, so you don’t mind a little forwardness. So, that other guy you were not ignoring…the one you were kissing?”

  I sigh. “Let’s not beat down historical figures. Not tonight.”

  “It’s history, then.” He smiles. I feel my heart skip a beat. Why is His smile affecting me this way?

  I slide the chicken out of the skillet, dividing it equally between the plates. “You’re way more flirty than I expected. Not that I’m complaining. I mean, Dr. Montrose would have a thing or two to say about that, but I think it’s refreshing. I just think people have the wrong impression of You.”

  “They do?”

  “Yeah. Not everyone, mind You, but I think some people think You’re out to get them.”

  He looks disturbed. “Why would they think that?”

  “I know! You’ve been nothing but kind. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated You.”

  “Water under the bridge.”

  “So,” I say, sliding the snow peas out of their skillet and onto the plates, “are You ready to eat?”

  “As long as it’s with you.”

  We sit down at the table. I’m using the good dishes and even have some candlelight going. From what I hear, He’s a fan of fire.

  I gesture toward His plate. “Please, take a bite. I want to see if You like it.”

  “Well, it is My favorite, so you have high standards to live up to.” He takes a bite. “Wow. Wow. I’m not kidding. This is fantastic.”

  “Thank You.”

  Suddenly I hear a noise coming from the living room. It’s a thud sound. Actually several thud sounds right in a row. “Excuse me for a second,” I say as I stand. “Seriously, stay here, okay? Please?”

  I walk into the living room to find Brooklyn coming down the staircase. With suitcases in tow Anger washes ov
er me. Not again. Not again!

  She gets to the bottom and glances to the kitchen. “Did I hear a guy’s voice?”

  “Ah, I don’t know. Maybe.” I gesture toward the suitcases. “How long this time, Brooklyn?”

  “You’re one to talk. I don’t want to hear it. Besides, if you can make a dumb decision—”

  “Brooklyn, I ended it with Clay. Last night. You were right. I was being a moron.”

  Brooklyn looks relieved and like she’s about to hug me, but then she retreats like she remembers we’re fighting.

  “Brooklyn, this new relationship of yours, it’s not going to work either.”

  Big eye roll. “Don’t go melodramatic on me. Please.”

  “You’re just going to move in with a guy you’ve just met?”

  “You want me to try it your way? That’s really working for you, Jess.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to end up your age and alone. This guy really likes me.”

  Reality comes into clear, stinging focus. Yeah, I’m having teriyaki and snow peas and the company is good. But I’m older. And I’m alone. I plant my hands on my hips.

  “Who is it this time?”

  She clutches the handle on one of her suitcases. “The one I met at the shop.”

  “Oh. You mean the customer. The one who was going to hire us to woo someone else. Until he got distracted by you and your blondness.”

  Brooklyn drops her bag to the floor and marches straight up to me, her face inches from mine. “Believe it or not, Jessie, some people do like me for reasons beyond my hair color. You think you keep getting rejected because of what you look like. Which, by the way, you looked ridiculous parading as a blonde. Maybe you need to ask yourself what’s wrong with you.”

  She steps away from me, her hard stare lingering. Then she grabs her bags and goes through the front door, not even bothering to close it on the way out.

  I gasp, probably because I’ve been holding my breath. My entire body is shaking. How dare she speak to me that way! I walk over and slam the door, rebuttals flooding my mind but with nowhere to deposit them.

  Then I remember—He’s still there.

  I walk in. It’s obvious He’s been eavesdropping, though I can’t blame Him. He probably does have super hearing. “I’ve raised her better than this.” I sigh. He looks at a loss for words. “How do You put up with people? Honestly.”