Unholy Matrimony

by Brenda Barrett

  Her father had come outside to see what all the excitement was about and had looked at Phoebe and shook his head. “You know, Phoebe,” his big brown eyes were sad, “your grandmother and namesake, God rest her soul, was a hardworking woman who bought the farm we now have with her own money. If her life hadn’t been cut short, who knows what else she would’ve done under her own steam—you can do the same. I have told you, time and time again, that your mother is a bitter busybody who is chronically unhappy and living in the past. Don’t let her make you into a gold-digger.”

  Phoebe had listened to him, stone-faced. He ended his lecture when Nishta came to stand in the doorway—they were now bickering in the house. Only her mother's loud screeches could be heard and Phoebe walked even further down the walkway, trying to drown her out.

  She looked at the car again; it even had the plastic on the seats—it was brand new. In all her fantasizing about owning a car, she had forgotten that she couldn't drive.

  A movement on the wall beside hers had her looking up swiftly. Charles was sitting on his wall out at his gate in a sleeveless shirt and a torn up jeans—he looked so handsome and fresh in the morning air. Phoebe, who was otherwise impervious to good-looking poor men, found her heart melting a little when she saw him. Being attracted to Charles was coming at a very inopportune moment.

  “Nice ride,” Charles said, looking over at the car.

  “I...er...got it as a gift.”

  “Seems like the party paid off for you,” Charles said casually.

  Phoebe hugged herself. “I have no time to explain this.”

  “I know the basics,” Charles said cynically. “You are pretty; he is rich; you are looking for rich; he is looking for pretty.”

  Phoebe looked at the car keys again and turned it over in her hand. “Stop sounding so jealous. I barely know you.”

  Charles shrugged. “You barely know him too, and he's giving you a car.”

  “How do you even know who he is?” Phoebe asked hotly.

  “Pinky told me,” Charles said. “You went to lunch with him yesterday and then hung out with me in the evening.”

  “It's not like that,” Phoebe said defensively. “We go to the same church.”

  “And yet you had to crash his party,” Charles scoffed.

  “I didn't even know that it was his party...I don't have to justify myself to you.” Phoebe stormed up the driveway.

  “I can teach you how to drive.” Charles called out to her before she reached her veranda.

  Phoebe spun around. “How did you know that I...never mind, do you have a license?”

  Charles nodded.

  “Will this evening at four-thirty be all right?” Phoebe asked him, huffing.

  Charles nodded again. “I'll be here.”

  Phoebe waved him off and went inside the house. Her parents had stopped bickering. Her father was lying in the settee looking unusually pensive and her mother was smiling and humming. They were both acting strange.

  Phoebe left the house half an hour earlier than usual. Her world was turning upside down and she wasn't sure she liked it.

  *****

  At four-thirty every evening, for six weeks, she got driving lessons from Charles. Coincidentally, Ezekiel had to suddenly leave the country to divest his vineyard in Australia. He had gotten a serious offer for it and his presence was needed to negotiate the deal.

  He called Phoebe every night, though and they'd chat for long periods. Initially Phoebe had felt awkward with Ezekiel and then she found that they had a lot in common. They both liked the same books and movies and even the same flavor ice cream.

  He was well spoken, mature, and knowledgeable about so many things. It was a running joke between them that Phoebe would often have to go researching for the meaning of a term, in her battered encyclopedia, to find out what he meant, or he'd casually talk about a place and she had to go search her atlas to find out where on the globe it was. She had her encyclopedia and atlas beside her bed for easy access these days.

  It seemed as if he had seen everything, been everywhere, and in general had tasted all aspects of life. Phoebe wished she could have the privilege of doing some of those things as well. He waxed lyrical about his Arab heritage and yet he made his home base, Jamaica.

  Phoebe realized that she was getting to like Ezekiel because of the time they spent together on the phone. It was the opposite with Charles. Charles was playful and took life easy. For him, if something were going to happen it would happen anyway, so why stress over it. He laughed a lot and loved music. He had started leaving CD's in her car stereo. Sometimes he would play a song for her and hum along. For Charles everything was music, and fun, and joy, and lightness.

  She looked forward to her driving lessons and her phone calls, but she found herself wishing that the two men could be a composite, and then she would have her perfect man.

  *****

  Erica had come back from her honeymoon and had belatedly called Phoebe the day before to invite her to dinner.

  “My first dinner party as Mrs. Wright. You are welcome to bring a guest. I heard that you are spending lots of time down at Great Pond church with a nice guy.”

  Phoebe had wanted to explain that Charles was not her guy but she couldn't deny that she had been spending all of her weekends at his church and at their random performance gigs all over town.

  “Want to go to a dinner party with me?” Phoebe asked Charles when she got into the car later that evening. She could drive properly now and was getting to be a pro at parallel parking; she really did not need him to teach her anything else.

  Charles grinned. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “Don't bother,” Phoebe said huffily.

  “You know, you need to work on your temper,” Charles said conversationally.

  “You are exasperating,” Phoebe rejoined swiftly.

  “You are beautiful,” Charles said, grinning.

  “Exasperating is not a compliment.”

  “I figured,” Charles said crestfallen. “When is the dinner party?”

  “Tomorrow, at five. I made an appointment for my driving test next week Thursday. Do I have to study that little road code booklet thingy that they gave me?”

  “Yup,” Charles said, “it should be a breeze for you to pass. You are bright—and if Howie can pass, I am sure you can too.”

  “Who is Howie, again?” Phoebe asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “The one you call Sleazy. He is the one that is always staring at your breasts.” Charles grinned as he drove the car slowly along the coastline highway toward Comma Point where they usually stopped to watch the sunset. The road was not usually very busy in the late afternoon, so Phoebe had found the place to be a great location to take her lessons.

  Charles stopped at their regular place and looked over at her. She had her hair pulled back in of those no-fuss ponytails she combed her hair in when she was going out with him—even without a lick of makeup she was gorgeous.

  He wondered if she realized just how obsessed with her he had become. She treated him like a casual friend and he treated her the same, but only because he knew that Phoebe would drop him like a hot potato if he showed any untoward interest.

  He felt like his time in Phoebe's life was temporary. She was like a beautiful butterfly you couldn't trap in a bottle without air and expect it to survive. He figured that was the way Phoebe felt about her life at Flatbush Scheme…as if she didn’t have air.

  He wondered about her and Ezekiel Hoppings. Charles knew he wasn't around, but wondered if he and Phoebe spoke regularly.

  He found himself wondering a lot about Phoebe and about what made her tick. His friends thought he was in over his head with her. His sister thought he was crazy to be teaching her to drive a car that was bought for her by another man, but he reasoned that he had to help her learn to drive. That he had enjoyed himself teaching her, he couldn't deny.

  “Stop staring at me,” Phoebe said, elbowing him in the side.
r />   “Just thinking,” Charles said, staring ahead. “Want to hear some music?”

  Phoebe nodded, and he pushed the CD in the player and deliberately played Dennis Brown's version of the song, ‘Any Day Now.’

  “The lyrics are so sad,” Phoebe said, looking at him.

  Charles shrugged. “I feel like that about you: any day now, you'll be gone.”

  “That's not fair,” Phoebe protested. “We are just friends and we live beside each other. With my luck, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

  Charles turned in his seat and watched her pink lips as she spoke. He moved closer to her; they were almost nose tip to nose tip. Phoebe inhaled noisily.

  “Don't,” she protested weakly.

  “Why not?” Charles asked, “because I am poor?”

  Phoebe closed her eyes and he touched his lips to hers.

  The first contact was like electricity running between them. He kissed her deeply, her lips tasted like peppermint and chocolate. Phoebe clutched his shirtfront while the kiss deepened; his lips were soft and where their lips connected her nerve endings started jumping.

  The kiss was neither demanding nor gentle.

  It was perfect.

  Her first real kiss.

  They pulled away in mutual agreement and stared ahead. Phoebe felt muddled and mixed up inside, like she had gone too close to fire and was singed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erica's dinner party coincided with a wet afternoon and when Phoebe got into the car with Charles she was feeling as gloomy as the evening. Last night when she had gotten home she had spoken to Ezekiel, as usual, but her mind had been on the kiss.

  “What's wrong?” Ezekiel had asked, a note of awareness in his voice indicated that he knew she wasn’t totally into the conversation with him.

  “Nothing,” Phoebe had responded, still thinking about that kiss with Charles.

  Ezekiel had spoken to her some more but she didn't hear much of what he said. He hung up the phone after a few minutes, sounding pensive. It was the shortest time they had ever spoken over the phone since he went to Australia. Phoebe felt a pang when she glanced at the time, but she couldn't stop herself from touching her lips and staring up into her stained ceiling; reliving the experience.

  She felt torn, and after seeing Charles today she felt even more torn. Why did she even invite him to Erica's? Was she going nuts?

  Charles was poor, and she was now closer to her goal of marrying rich. Ezekiel had declared his intention to woo her. Men didn't just up and buy cars for anybody; neither did they spend hours on the phone with a woman just so they could get to know her. She realized that Ezekiel was serious and yet here she was, dithering about a guy who lived beside her in Flatbush Scheme.

  She wasn't acting like herself. The temptation to give back the car to Ezekiel and to live a simple life with Charles was actually in her thoughts last night.

  Charles greeted her in his effusive manner when he got into the car and Phoebe looked at him with a small smile on her face. Charles was effortlessly handsome; he had on a green t-shirt with the name of his band scrawled across the front and well-fitting blue jeans.

  “I hope I'm not under-dressed?” He gave her long orange dress a once over. “You look gorgeous. If you had on a pair of green eyes you'd look just like a curly-haired Aishwarya Rai.”

  “Thanks,” Phoebe murmured. “My mother always says that. About the kiss...”

  Charles held up his hand. “No post mortem over the kiss. I know you are about to give me a speech and I don't think I want to hear it.”

  Phoebe smiled. “Okay then.”

  When they arrived at Erica's, Phoebe was still struggling in her mind about the kiss, about Ezekiel and about her shifting views.

  Erica and Caleb were staying at Kelly's place until their house in the hills was refurbished. It was the first time Phoebe was actually going inside and she found it spacious and elegant.

  The kitchen was obviously the hub of the house; half of it was in glass, giving the inside an outdoorsy feel. You didn't have to crane your neck to see the sea in the distance while sitting at the breakfast nook; Phoebe liked that feature very much. Caleb was at the stove, stir-frying something.

  “It smells lovely in here.” Phoebe grinned at Caleb while she and Charles sat at the nook, watching.

  Erica was flitting around the kitchen, looking for some special glasses. They chitchatted about the places they had been to in Paris and the things they had seen on their honeymoon.

  As soon as it was politely possible, Phoebe dragged Erica from the kitchen, leaving Charles with Caleb who had started talking about sports. They stood in what looked like the living room; it had hardwood floors and a dome-shaped ceiling.

  “What's wrong?” Erica asked her, concerned.

  “I am in trouble.” Phoebe looked at Erica, panicked.

  Erica sat in an armchair with her feet hanging over the side and raised her eyebrow. "I thought you were saving your virginity for the highest bidder.”

  “You guys got married just eight weeks ago and already you are raising your eyebrows like Caleb?” Phoebe asked, exasperated.

  Erica giggled. “I didn't even realize I was doing it. What's wrong, Pheebs? You look positively shaken. Are you really in ‘pregnant trouble’?”

  “No,” Phoebe said, fanning her off. “It's worse than that. I like Charles,” Phoebe whispered fiercely. “I really, really like him—like flowers and lollipops and rainbows in the sky kind of like.”

  “Aww,” Erica grinned, “what a relief to hear that you are not preggo and that you like a guy. Is the air fresher, the grass greener? Do flowers sing when you walk by?”

  “I knew you wouldn't take this seriously,” Phoebe said fiercely. “Don't you see that Charles is all bad for me? For one, he is poor; he works as an entertainment coordinator at a hotel. Two, he has no ambition. Last week he told me that he is content to be an entertainment coordinator as long as the hotel wants him to be. Three, he thinks Scrabble is a game involving eggs. Four, his one great goal for the foreseeable future is to buy a bigger bike next year.”

  “But he has a car, a nice one too,” Erica said. “Isn't that one of your criteria for choosing a man? And he's also handsome; don't forget that.”

  Phoebe groaned and sunk down in a chair across from Erica. “I got the car as a present from Ezekiel Hoppings. Problem is, Ezekiel likes me, like really likes me, and I talk to him every night on the phone.”

  Erica gasped. “Wowser! How did you get yourself so busy? I was only absent for two months; enjoying my fabulous honeymoon.” She grinned wickedly. “Caleb can do things with his tongue a sanctified ear should not hear! When we got home from the wedding we almost did it on the steps outside.”

  “Enough already,” Phoebe grimaced, “don't say a word more, and stop licking your lips like that.”

  Erica laughed out loud. “Okay, okay, tell me what's been going on with you and your men, from the beginning, and hurry. Caleb is just putting some finishing touches on the meal.”

  Phoebe spoke as fast as she could. Erica listened attentively and then tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I think this is your test. This is the moment in your life when you have to let go of your prejudices about looks and poverty and everything else you have stored up in that busy mind of yours. I personally think you should give back the car and let down Ezekiel gently and then see where it goes with Charles. But then again, I realize that you are the one who has to make the decision.”

  Phoebe stood. “But Erica, this is it. This is my opportunity to release myself from poverty and to be truly happy.”

  Erica dragged herself out of the sofa as well and put her hand on Phoebe's shoulder. “You need to stop seeking happiness for itself and seek God. He’s the only source of true happiness. I can assure you that riches will not make you happy. You are still young and you have some horrible views on life, men, and money. I have no idea where those views came from, but from personal experience, I can tell
you that money can't buy you happiness. It can buy you loads of stuff but it can't fill that unhappiness hole.”

  Phoebe thought about what Erica said and grumbled, “It's easy for you to be spouting these little gems at me, but you never grew up like I did, did you? You have never lived in Flatbush Scheme, or worked at a job for peanuts. Erica, I have no trust fund or doting Daddy with supermarkets all over the North Coast.”

  Erica squeezed her hand. “I have faith that you will come to your senses about this whole happiness and riches thing when you sit down and really think about it. Anyway, let's go join the fellas and see if they missed us.”

  When they returned to the kitchen Caleb and Charles were having a lively discussion about football and hadn’t missed them one bit.

  All throughout dinner, Phoebe looked at Charles as he interacted with Erica and Caleb. He was funny and relaxed and she could see why he was such a natural at his job, but was he the right person for her? She squelched her sigh while staring at the food in her plate.

  *****

  Phoebe spent the following week reading her driver's test booklet and trying to memorize the signs and signals. Charles would give her a quiz when he got home from work and would laugh at her if she didn’t get the basics right.

  She had not heard from Ezekiel since the evening she kissed Charles. It was as if he had sensed that her distraction was because of another man.

  She missed his calls though; she missed his dry sense of humor and his recounting of some of his adventures in diverse parts of the world that he usually painted vividly for her.

  She couldn’t explain the conflict that was going on in her mind and she valiantly tried to ignore her burgeoning attraction to Charles and the war tugging at her mind about Ezekiel.

  She did her driver's test on Thursday and passed it. Charles took her to Vanley's Veggie Pub to celebrate. It was a grass shack by the beach that served vegetable juice in shot glasses and big tumblers of weirdly named vegetable concoctions.