Here, Have a Husband

by Heather Gean

  “Not drinking today?” I asked her.

  She pressed the cold sides of the bottle between her knees and readjusted the straps of her bikini. “Nah. I haven’t been feeling too well. Plus, alcohol dehydrates you, ya know.”

  “Dehydrates. Relaxes. It’s a trade off.”

  She began to seem less suspicious, so I topped off the rest of my cup with gin and stirred it with a plastic spoon from the half empty pack lying atop the table.

  “Liz sure looks happy today.”

  I sighed, realizing Sasha had simply been waiting for my defenses to go down to make her move. “Well, you know how she likes to have a new guy for every holiday, every week, whichever.”

  I followed Sasha’s gaze down towards the riverbank where Liz was being cradled in the bulky arms of Cody, a young guy apparently in law school, who stood chest deep in the murky water. Her huge smile glowed white against her tan face, breaking only long enough for her lips to pucker and meet Cody’s. I turned away and lifted the plastic cup to my mouth, wincing as the aftertaste of gin bit the back of my tongue. I added another splash of orange juice and started to get up from the table.

  “You two need to work things out. It’s tricky being friends with both of you when you aren’t speaking. I hate being in the middle.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t care if you talk to her.”

  She slid off the table and followed me over to a cluster of lawn chairs near a game of horseshoes some of the guys had started up and turned into a drinking competition. “I just hate to see you two drift apart after so long. I mean, what she said, was it really that big of a deal?”

  I wanted to pick up a horseshoe and chunk it straight at her head. “Stop giving a shit. I have, and it really works for me.”

  Hurt flashed across her face. Her eyes darted towards the ground, and I could tell she was questioning why she’d sat down beside me in the first place.

  “Okay,” I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s just something me and her need to work out on our own. I’ve got a lot going on. I’m trying best I can to avoid extraneous drama.” I took another long drink from my cup and settled into a lawn chair. It was too hot to wear anything more than the bare essentials, and I figured even those would come off for a swim after sundown. I swatted a mosquito off my arm.

  Samson tossed a horseshoe so far off target that it thudded to the ground dangerously close to my foot. Sasha retrieved it for him, making a big deal of tossing it back. “The target’s over there!” He simply winked at her before taking a swig from his can of beer.

  Before I closed my eyes in relaxation, I did a quick recon to check for Becka, a nosy little twit barely out of high school that had tagged along with one of Sasha’s roommates. Best I could tell she was Iris’ little sister, and she probably wasn’t a bad kid, but the second I stepped out of my car at the campsite she started asking me about Ashley. For obvious reasons, I’d been avoiding her since. She and Iris stood amongst the trees, almost in the next campsite, chatting up a bunch of guys. I took another couple of sips before tipping my head back and closing my eyes.

  I spent the afternoon successfully avoiding everyone and everything, except mosquitoes. For hours upon hours I had no immediate demands to be met, no worries or concerns that went beyond figuring out why the hell my bottle of gin disappeared so quickly. It was absolute bliss – sweaty, drunken, summertime bliss.

  It wasn’t until long after the fireworks that we watched illuminate the sky in the distance over the river had ended that Liz waded out into the water towards me. My feet squished down into the mud of the river bottom and the warm water came up to my chin. My instincts told me to make small talk and claim another drink was beckoning me back to shore, but since the most of us had entered the water in our underwear and left our clothes on the bank, it wasn’t the most opportune time to retreat. After all, I didn’t want her to see my pasty white butt as I scampered away. Hell, I didn’t want anyone seeing that. So I hugged myself and stayed put, watching her as one might watch an approaching shark fin.

  “Great fireworks, huh?”

  I nodded. The sounds of crickets and frogs and celebrating on the shore filled the conversationless gap.

  “I think Becka was the one who swiped your gin. I heard Iris yelling at her about it earlier, but Becka was so drunk she laughed.” Liz laughed, and I wondered if she thought tattling on Becka would let her off the hook.

  “What a bitch.”

  This time it was Liz who nodded.

  “So, Cody?” I offered. “He’s cute.”

  “Yeah, he came into the store last week looking for a new suit, and we hit it off. He’s really sweet.”

  “Cool.” It was a lame response, but I couldn’t think of a better one given the circumstances. A large part of my mind was occupied with hoping a fish didn’t come up and nip me anywhere inappropriate. I made sure my arms were pressed firmly against my chest.

  “How was your trip to New York?”

  I nodded slowly as I attempted to gather the correct words and put them in a comprehensible order, but the first thing that came out was “fine,” and I left it at that.

  Liz caught herself in a sigh. “Rainy, I’m sorry about what I said. It was really – well – it wasn’t what I should’ve said. I’m an outsider, ya know? It’s real easy to look at your situation and think man, if I had a chance like that I sure as hell wouldn’t turn it down. Because who doesn’t worry about money?”

  I half-smiled and tilted my head in a weird side-to-side motion caught somewhere between nodding and shaking. “I get it.” I lowered my eyes to the dark water.

  “But I get that there are more important things. I mean, love won’t pay the rent but money won’t buy you happiness.”

  “Nice analogy.” We shared smiles, and a lot of the tension melted into the warm water around us.

  “I just wanted you to know that no matter what may spill out when I run my mouth, I’m on your side.”

  “Thanks. That’s good to hear.”

  Liz sighed again, this time one of relief. “Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way.” I laughed a little.

  “You asked about New York?” I lifted my arms and held my wrists out to her. Her eyes became two giant circles that matched the one her mouth widened into. She hesitantly ran a finger across the sensitive spot on one of my wrists. A shiver shot up my arm, and I smiled impulsively.

  “What? Too fucking cool.”

  I returned my arms up around my chest. “And…”

  “And?”

  “Therapy sucked, basically, I’m doomed to fight out the rest of the sessions with him and Dr. Freud.”

  “Lame.”

  “And…”

  Liz looked on expectantly.

  “Van’s married.”

  “What?”

  I began the lengthy explanation of the thing that had been ripping my entire being to pieces for the past few days. At the end of it, she understood just how sticky the situation was gumming up to be.

  “So, what are you gonna do?”

  I’d been asking myself that same question, repeating it to myself since the day I met Ashley. And my answer had transformed from blind uncertainty to, “I’ve gotta do something.”

  ~*~

  Sitting in the therapist’s office two weeks later seemed like a rerun from the previous session. The same old shit kept coming up. The therapist asked inappropriate and ridiculous questions that simply left us chasing our tails. It was a waste of my time and of government money, but it was a must-do. Ashley had sent me plane tickets this time, and they had been delivered with a red rose. It was an obvious peace offering but a futile attempt.

  This time we both exited civilly. I didn’t storm out. I kept my cool. We even shared an elevator without my feeling like I might suffocate, but Ashley interrupted my hope for a quick escape by inviting me out to a late lunch. I wasn’t sure how to react. “This relationship thing isn’t going to work between us no matter how m
any times you take me out to dinner.”

  “I know. Consider this a business dinner.” Considering it as a business dinner, I had little problem accepting at all, especially since my stomach had been growling for the past hour.

  The restaurant was high end. We had to be let through a velvet rope to enter, which I never would’ve been allowed past if I hadn’t been accompanied by Ashley. The music was beautiful and instrumental with sounds of pianos and harps tumbling over one another as if you could see the notes ballroom dancing. The waiters were the professional kind, not the ones you see in average chain restaurants, and they brought us wine immediately. It helped ease the headache I inevitably got every time I was in the same vicinity as Ashley. “This is nice,” I admitted after I tasted the wine. “So, what business do we have to attend to?”

  The waiter appeared again, this time placing a basket of deliciously steaming rolls on the white table cloth. Ashley ordered his food, and then, to my surprise, patiently waited as I ordered mine. With a smile that reflected the generous tip he expected, the waiter took our menus and disappeared again.

  “Business isn’t usually discussed until after dinner,” Ashley said.

  “Let’s skip the formalities.”

  “All right… things haven’t been running smoothly for us.”

  “Ya think?” Ashley paused to smile through his annoyance of my interruption.

  “Anyway, we have become feeder fish in the tank of tabloid sharks. Someone blabbed at the DML and they caught us on camera outside of the government building where the therapy sessions go on. We can’t afford much more of that kind of publicity.”

  “Agreed.” The roll I took from the bread basket scorched the tips of my fingers, but my aching stomach encouraged me to bite into it anyway. It desperately needed butter, but I was too hungry to be picky.

  Ashley continued with his business-voice on. “Here is my proposition. If we work together, we can make this less painful. We need to finish out the therapy sessions and try not to be at each other’s throats all the time.” I wanted to interrupt him again and mention that the painful part, in my opinion, was going to be the wedding, but my mouth burned from the fresh-from-the-oven roll I’d taken to large a bite of, and by the time I washed it down with wine he was speeding away with his proposition again. “Showing that we’re making an effort will give us the best chance for our appeals to be processed. If it doesn’t work then we can proceed from there, but until then we need to make nice. No more big public fights. The tabloids are brutal when it comes to that stuff. We can release a statement through Monica assuring everyone that we are working through our issues. I talked to mom, and she is willing to compromise with you on the wedding plans. Everyone is happy.”

  “And what if the appeal doesn’t go through? Getting married won’t make either of us happy.”

  “Well, that is where we need to formulate a plan because I don’t want to be in a forced marriage anymore than you do.”

  “A plan?”

  Ashley nodded with a devious smile. I was interested in what his idea of a plan was, but I was also hesitant to trust him. This seemed like a trap. I could never tell exactly what was going on behind those eyes of his, but my instincts weren’t sending up any warning signals. If he was bluffing, he was doing a damned good job. And in the end, I would have the final say because there was no way in hell I was going to marry him. This business arrangement could work to my advantage.

  “Are you interested?” he asked. I smiled at him. He truly was an excellent negotiator.

  “Tell me more about this plan and request some butter for these rolls, and we may have a deal.”

  Dinner progressed with easier conversation that before.

  “We can use all the media coverage of the wedding to our advantage when it comes to sending a big ‘fuck you’ to the government,” he began. “It’s going to be live, and it’s going to be everywhere.”

  “Okay,” I prompted. “Get to the part where we get out of the marriage?”

  “We go through with the ceremony, get all the way up to the altar, and say ‘I don’t.’”

  I slowly forked at my salad. “That’s actually… brilliant.”

  Ashley took a pleased sip of his wine. “Why, thank you, my dear.”

  “This could start something major. A nation-wide revolt!”

  He nodded. My excitement simmered.

  I sighed and added, “Man, my dad is gonna be so pissed.”

  ~*~

  Aside from constantly trying to maintain public appearance, there were perks to being a government official’s daughter. One in particular was the possibly illegal access I had to government computers. The things that could be found in those records were endless, but I was only interested in files regarding the DML. It had taken some strategic moves on my part. If you ever saw how unorganized some of the government files were then you would never again wonder how things could get as screwed up as they were. They had taken great pains to conceal a lot of the information I collected over time. Appeals had been flooding into the DML. Approximately forty-two percent of all of the matches that had been made in the past five years had been appealed. That meant that almost one-half of the country was openly dissatisfied with their happily ever after, and that seemed a bit high to be brushed off. Of the forty-two percent that had filed appeals, only four percent had been granted annulments of their matches. My chances of being granted an annulment looked incredibly slim when the numbers were staring me in the face.

  However, I continued with Plan A, playing nice with Ashley, until I knew anything for sure. For weeks I flew into New York for the therapy sessions and left the same night to avoid a stay in New York. I had only see Van a handful of times, for lunch or dinner, always out. Things had gotten complicated between us since the silverware incident. We still talked a few times a week, but it was like Van’s marriage was hanging over us. I didn’t blame him for the situation, but the shock still hadn’t worn off. It wasn’t until the fifth counseling session, falling in the middle of September, that I decided to stay for a few days. If I was going to hold up my end of the deal I had to play nice with Mrs. Schroeder and work on wedding plans.

  The certainty that I wasn’t actually going to go through with the wedding made it so much easier to plan. I sat down with Mrs. Schroeder and Monica Radella and drank coffee with them as we went over the details. I agreed to a guest list that looked more like a roster of every upper-class resident of New York and beyond. They looked suspiciously surprised, so for fun I argued with them over the chartreuse dresses. “It’s a winter wedding,” I reasoned. “Chartreuse is not a winter wedding color.”

  Monica sighed. “I suppose you have a point. What would you prefer?”

  “Royal purple.”

  “How about red?” Mrs. Schroeder suggested. “Red would look lovely.” I told her that red was too traditional, and we argued over it for a few minutes. It was fun to ruffle their feathers, to watch them try to find the polite ways to insult every idea they didn’t like. Eventually I broke down and agreed to red, and we moved on to the next topic of discussion.

  Allowing Dee to make my new wedding dress, though, was difficult to do even when I knew it wasn’t my actual wedding dress. I stood in the middle of Mrs. Schroeder’s dressing room, essentially a useless, giant room with a vanity, a walk-in closet, and mirrors staring me down from every angle. Dee and her assistant had the bare essentials of a wedding dress pinned around my body. I felt exposed.

  “I was thinking of doing a lot of beadwork to the bodice and having it fade into the skirt. A-line skirt. Do you want a train? The long ones are popular right now,” Dee said. Her words consisted of her thinking aloud. She tapped one of her perfectly manicured nails against her bottom lip as if she was thinking. She circled me for the third time. I was beginning to feel like she was a vulture and I was some sort of prey. “Or maybe it should be a slinky dress. Silk?” She made me lift my arms for a moment and before I could lower them to my sides she not
iced my tattoos, gave them a look of contempt, and continued on as if she hadn’t seen them.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “I’m fine with whatever.” I was tired of being a living mannequin.

  “You have to care, silly! This is the dress you are going to wear on the most important day of your life!” Dee said. She giggled in her annoying melodic way. “Give me an idea of your style.”

  I sighed as I tried to imagine the perfect wedding dress. “Flowy. Not flashy. Subtly pretty.”

  Dee nodded as if she were processing every word I said. “I can do that. I can. You will not be disappointed!”

  I stepped behind a folding screen and slid out of the white fabric I was wrapped in. As I redressed myself in my usual jeans, a camisole, and a fitted jacket with quarter sleeves, Dee talked to me from the other side. “You’re a very lucky girl. There are a hundred girls who would love to be in your place.”

  I rolled my eyes and used my fake voice. “I know! I’m so excited that you’re making this dress for me. And don’t worry, whatever the bill is, Ashley will pay it. I know you said you didn’t want payment, but really, I insist.” I had gotten used to spending Ashley’s money on frivolous things. It was my way of relieving any hostility I felt toward him that didn’t involve punching him in the face.

  “No, I mean about Ashley. He’s a great guy.” The sound in her voice, the sad sound that made me think of the low howl of an animal that had just lost its companion, cut my heart straight through. It became obvious that she had a thing for Ashley, and I suddenly admired her for coming over to make my dress when she harbored those feelings for him. It was like I was the other woman, and it felt horrible, especially since I didn’t want to be the other woman.