Someday, Somehow

by Claudia Burgoa

  “What can I do for you, Mario?” I say.

  “I want to surprise Georgia with something nice,” he says. “She’s been very stressed with the wedding planning. I thought she’d enjoy a night off.”

  That’s… “Really nice of you, Mario.”

  He smiles. “She’s very special. She deserves good treatment.”

  “That she does,” I say.

  I consider messing with him. Giving him mediocre advice. Not outright terrible advice, that would be cruel to George, but slightly off advice that would help her realize this guy doesn’t know anything about her. That could work, in theory.

  But...I don’t want to do that to George. Here some guy is, ready to surprise and excite her, why would I ruin that when she spent so long waiting for me to give her that? She deserves to be swept off her feet.

  Okay, I’ll play nice this time.

  “Alright, let’s get started,” I say. “Do you have any ideas in mind?”

  Mario shakes his head. Great, I have to pull one of my ‘proof I’m in love with you’ dating ideas out of my back pocket for this. Whatever, I have at least a dozen others and, hopefully, a lifetime to woo George at every opportunity.

  I can let Mario have one.

  I gesture for him to take a seat. “Okay, the only thing George loves more than Mexican food is postmodernist and pop surrealism art. So, here’s what you’re going to do…”

  Mario just nods blankly. This is entirely new information to him. Fantastic.

  “Well, come on,” I say. “Start taking notes.”

  This is going to be a long shift.

  Forty-Four

  George

  Being at home has been really great. I definitely missed everyone. Wedding planning has been a bit chaotic. I wish I had more time to organize it but what can I do? The wedding is coming along steadily. It’s kind of hard getting things done when I want Mario’s opinions on things but he keeps leaving on short notice because, ‘some friends asked me to meet them in Albuquerque, George,’ and ‘I found a hot springs in Utah that would be wonderful to photograph, George.’

  I thought the advantage of being with someone as spontaneous and worldly as Mario was his free spirit. I thought he would come up with fantastic plans to show me things I’ve never seen before. Lately, he just leaves without inviting me.

  “George, you don’t mind if I use your car, do you?” he asks each time he decides to go onto his next adventure, and leaves me behind.

  He’s been gone for a couple of weeks. I thought we were going to use the time before the wedding bonding, life planning, and getting him more acquainted with the people in my life. The only times he’s spent around my loved ones aside from a party or two is hanging out with Auggie—because Auggie has been making an effort.

  Even when Auggie doesn’t like Mario all that much. Yet he’s putting more effort into getting to know him than Mario is with him or anyone else.

  I know it’s going to take Mario some time to adjust. But now that I’m back in my normal life, I feel like I’m missing out on some of the things that made him great. When am I going to be whisked away on an adventure? When is someone going to ask me ‘Hey George, want to drop everything and go do this thing?’

  “Hey, George,” Auggie says as he knocks on my door frame. “Want to take the train and get coffee from Lulu’s?”

  I glance up from my phone, staring at him. Great, he’s wearing that really sexy navy blue t-shirt that fits him just right.

  That’s—“What?” I ask.

  He frowns. “Lulu’s? For coffee? Wanna go?”

  “Yeah, I heard what you said but... really?” I ask.

  Auggie shrugs. “Why not? You love the train. We both love Lulu’s. It’s been a while, let’s go.”

  This isn’t like him at all. We stopped doing spontaneous things years ago.

  “Aren’t you busy with work?”

  He frowns. “It’s my day off, George. Unless you know something I don’t?”

  “No, you’re right,” I say. “It’s just that you don’t normally take your days off.”

  “Yeah, well, things have changed,” he informs me. “I was working myself to death, so I scaled it back.”

  “Just like that?” I ask.

  I frown and think for a second. Auggie can barely pull himself away from work to eat and sleep. But as I think about the past few days—weeks—he’s right. Since I came home, he’s been around more than usual. More than Mario for that matter. I don’t believe this.

  “Honestly it took a couple months and a lot of hard work to...slow down, for lack of a better term,” he explains, as if he can hear all the questions I have. How, when, and why? “It’s not always easy, old habits die hard. But I’m taking things one day at a time and I only work when I’m supposed to. So, I’d like to hang out with you on my day off. Help a guy on his journey to rehabilitation from workaholism.”

  I stare at him, trying to find something that’s different or out of place. He’s just standing there. Smiling, patient. He just told me he struggled with something and is still working on it. He’s being honest with me and wants me to be a part of that. Wow.

  His easy, patient smile reminds me of the good old days. Back when we made sense. My heart flutters a little. Maybe we could be something good again.

  “Is that alright with you?”

  He doesn’t need to ask me twice.

  ✩✩✩

  Mario calls me from the road occasionally. His trip has run longer than expected and he’ll tell me as much ‘as soon as he finds out.’ But I don’t hear much outside of watching his social media. I know he’s a free spirit, but this is crazy. I’m glad everyone else has been so supportive during the planning of this wedding. I don’t know what I would do without my dad, friends, and the Beltrans to keep me sane.

  I’m glad everyone isn’t tired of this wedding yet because I’m running out of patience. We’re supposed to be getting married in a couple of weeks, but my fiancé can’t be bothered to loop me in on his plans.

  He’s thirty-five and it was a radical idea to him when I asked that he call me when he gets to wherever he’s going. I shouldn’t worry, he’ll be here to say I do. He made it sound like some stupid contract he had to sign before his next business trip.

  He’s not even here to choose our wedding cake for fucks sake.

  “Dad, is marrying Mario a mistake?” I ask him while he’s helping me with the cake tasting.

  And by cake tasting...I mean, commandeering the kitchen in Diego’s house to make sample batters for the wedding cake. There’s no way anyone but me is making this cake.

  Abuela comes to check on us occasionally, but for the most part it’s just me and Dad hanging out. I’m trying to work through the hundreds of wedding cake recipes I’ve been saving over the last few years.

  Dad is enjoying the peace of reading the newspaper while occasionally listening to the sound of the den TV playing Abuelo’s stories.

  Dad doesn’t look up from his newspaper, but his eyes widen a little. He has thoughts; I knew it.

  He clears his throat. “I think that it’s not a parent’s job to criticize—”

  “Dad, seriously?” I say as I add some lime zest to this batter. “Just tell me.”

  “I think you’re a beautiful grown woman who can make her own decisions,” he says. “It would be disrespectful of me to get in the way of what you want.”

  I groan. “That’s just it. What if I don’t want this?”

  Dad sighs. He looks up as he puts down his paper. “Cupcake, everyone gets cold feet. But most people get cold feet the day of their wedding to someone they’ve loved for a while. You don’t have to know someone for many years to fall in love and have a good marriage.”

  “But you and Mom— “

  “Your mother and I fell in love after two weeks. We were engaged for six months and were married for seven wonderful years,” he says with that nostalgic smile he gets whenever he talks about her. “I didn’t ha
ve to wait for years to decide to marry her. I knew right when I met her that she was phenomenal, and I wanted to spend every day of the rest of our lives together.

  “Did I get cold feet? Yeah, a little. I was so excited to spend forever with her and so scared I was going to mess it up, I didn’t know right from left. That’s what cold feet should be—overwhelming but fulfilling. Cold feet shouldn’t feel like a red flag.”

  I sigh. “How do you just...know? That you’re marrying the right person?”

  Dad gets up to hug me. “You don’t ask if you’re marrying the right person. When people ask that, they usually mean something else like ‘is there something else that would make me as happy as being with this person’ or ‘am I ready for such a drastic life change?’ or ‘why didn’t I marry this other person?’”

  I groan.

  Dammit, I was worried he was going to say that. I’m not...in love with Auggie. I got over him months ago. That’s why I’m marrying Mario.

  Because he’s courageous and exciting in every way Auggie isn’t. He takes risks. He goes after the things he wants. Auggie is…who is he? I thought I knew him once and then he changed into a man who couldn’t be bothered with life and now he is someone completely different.

  And fuck if I don’t want to get to know that person. He’s just as kind as he was when I met him and understanding. He’s made this wedding a smooth ride. Every time there’s an emergency or I’m freaking out, Auggie is there for me, talking through every doubt, fear, or problem until we find the solution.

  Damn it, why wasn’t he like that before when I loved him?

  Because I don’t love him anymore, I repeat.

  Not this guy who I barely recognize or the one who didn’t care one bit about me. I feel—

  “Does that answer your question?” Dad asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  “I guess,” I lie.

  Dad shakes his head. “Georgia Angelina Jones, you are the smartest woman I know. Believe in yourself, it’ll be alright.”

  I can only hope he’s right.

  ✩✩✩

  Mario gets back from a trip to the Grand Canyon exactly five days before our wedding. He’s covered in dirt, and it looks like he hasn’t showered in a few days. But he smiles at me like he’s a sailor back from months at sea. He literally sweeps me off my feet. For a second, I forget that he’s ditched my calls and ignored my texts.

  But then I remember everything all at once. He’s making me feel just like Auggie did before I left for Italy. I loved him so much and I left because I’m not going to pine for someone who won’t love me the way I deserve. Mario has to get with the program and understand this is a marriage, not some hostel where he can visit when he needs to take a break from traveling.

  Even though it’s late we have to talk about everything. Where we’re going to live (we can’t stay at my friend’s house indefinitely and I won’t be living in a fucking tiny house), what we’re going to do with our future, and most importantly, his traveling. I don’t want to cut his wings but a long-distance marriage isn’t exactly what I want to have for the rest of my life.

  I offer to reheat leftovers for Mario who accepts with a warm smile.

  “How was your trip?” I ask as I put a bowl of gumbo into the microwave.

  “It was wonderful, bellissima,” he says. “Photography seems to be my new hobby.”

  “That’s good,” I say, trying to be supportive. “You know there’s a lot of gorgeous places to photograph around here.”

  “Yes, and I haven’t gone to Wyoming yet,” Mario says.

  “Wyoming is pretty too,” I say neutrally. “Maybe we can go up there together after our honeymoon.”

  Not that we have planned a honeymoon. I offered Fiji, he said it’s not pretty enough. How would I know when I haven’t been there?

  “Why not tomorrow?” he asks.

  I laugh. But when I turn around to hand him the gumbo, he’s not smiling. Mario just stands there, a foot in front of me, looking confused. Somehow, our distance feels like a cavern between us.

  My smile falls. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Joking about what?” he asks.

  “About going to Wyoming tomorrow,” I answer.

  “I’m not joking,” he says. “We should go.”

  “I guess Cheyenne is only a two-hour drive without traffic, but we’d have to get up early—”

  “Is Cheyenne near Yellowstone?” he asks.

  “No, that’s on the other side of the state,” I say.

  “Then let’s go to Yellowstone,” he says.

  “We can’t,” I say firmly. “I have the dress fitting and I want to check the restaurant. Soon I have to go back to work.”

  “So, don’t go!” He waves his hand. “The dress will fit just fine. Why are you even working? I have enough money for us to live well.”

  His voice is loud and his nostrils flare.

  “It’s not about the money, Mario,” I retort, trying to keep my tone flat. “It’s about doing something I love with the people I love.”

  He nods like he understands but his face is skewed in a way that makes me think he doesn’t.

  I take a deep breath. Marriage is about compromise and communication. We need to talk through our issues. So, we might as well start now.

  “My whole life is here,” I explain calmly. “My friends, my job, and even my dad for the most part. How are we going to make this work if I’m in one place and you’re on the other side of the country? Or continent?”

  Mario stands up and he gets closer, wrapping his arms around me. I want to feel comforted by how strong his arms are and how tender he holds me. But it just feels empty.

  A lot of things about him feel empty the longer we’re here. The magic of Venice is completely gone. The knight who rescued me from the cold, rainy night is gone.

  What do I have left? A man who doesn’t care for anyone but his pleasure.

  “Bellissima, you worry too much. Marriage is a beautiful thing,” he says. “It’s a journey, an experience.”

  “And a commitment,” I press. “We’ve yet to decide where we’re going to live. There’re plenty of things we haven’t discussed, like our future children and my career.”

  Which seems to be the least important thing on his agenda.

  “Yes, but...things may happen. People change,” he says. “We don’t have to worry about the details at this moment—”

  “Yeah, yeah, because we’ll handle them as they come up and we’ll grow together and become better people together—” I interrupt, because I’ve heard this a million times before from Auggie.

  He gives me an odd smile. “No, I meant, ‘we should not have to worry. If there comes a time when we no longer want to be together, then we part.’”

  Is he serious?

  “Just like that?” I ask. “Just...divorce just like that, easy?”

  “Why not? It’s just a contract,” he says. “Two adults can agree to end a contract they once honored.”

  Mario leans in, presumably to kiss me, but I push him away slightly. I smile to be polite, but it’s so very fake. I’m upset and not just with him but myself. When did I stop believing in forever and decide to go for a fast fix? When I was too desperate for love, and disappointed in the man I thought was the love of my life.

  And here I am, loveless again, but fortunately I don’t have a broken heart.

  “Mario, I think we have different ideas about marriage,” I say, thankful that I realize this today and not on Saturday.

  “Perhaps,” he says. “It doesn’t matter—”

  “Actually, it does,” I say. “I’m sorry, but I’m not planning on doing this whole wedding-marriage thing multiple times. If I’m going to marry someone...it’s going to be forever. We’ll grow old together and have children who will have children. My ambition is a big family.”

  Mario nods. He smiles sadly. He kisses my cheek.

  “George, I would be honored to marry you,” he says. “But lo
ve is fickle. People fall out of love all the time. I can promise you my next year, but my five years from now is up to future me. Present me and future me are not the same person and will never be.”

  I close my eyes. He kisses my neck, as if this is going to make everything better.

  “Do you understand, bellissima?” Mario asks.

  I realize that he almost never calls me by my name. I wonder if I would leave a mark in the story of his life. How important will I be to forty-year-old Mario? It doesn’t matter because I can see how unimportant he is for me in the present and how different we are today. He’s not who I want or what I need.

  “I think you should go,” I say. “You’re welcome to stay the night. But I think this is where we part ways.”

  Forty-Five

  Auggie

  Last night I heard George and Mario arguing about something from my room. I didn’t intervene because it was late, didn’t sound like they were getting physical, and technically it was none of my business. But I think George could use a pick me up after a night like that.

  I cancel my shift at the steak house and check on the progress of my newest restaurant before I go home. I want to give George some quality attention and comfort. I picked up a six pack of some new sour beer I know George will like.

  When I get home, George is already sitting by the fire pit. Perfect.

  “Hey, stranger,” I say as I approach her. “Care for some company?”

  George looks up. She combed out her locks, turning her hair back into the soft halo it normally is. She’s wearing one of my old college hoodies that she stole from me ages ago. But more importantly, she looks exhausted. Her cheeks are wet and her eyes are red. Shit, she’s been crying.

  “I’d love some,” she says, pointing at the six pack. “Is that beer?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  She throws her head back against the lawn chair, closing her eyes. “How did you know?”

  I shrug. “The walls in this place are thick, but not thick enough to cancel out yelling completely.”