Mia Like Crazy

by Cordoba, Nina

  He moved back. “I’m beat. I’m gonna have to turn in.” He stepped quickly off the balcony and through the “office.”

  As it sunk in that I’d been ditched by my husband on my wedding night, the rejection and disappointment fell over me like a cold, wet blanket. I didn’t think I’d ever looked better in my life. Although I’d practically thrown myself at him, he hadn’t shown any interest at all.

  After retreating to my room, I took down my hair and was going to take off my wedding dress, but soon realized the tiny covered buttons down the back would make that impossible. I needed the help of the only other person in the apartment.

  Putting aside the humiliation of a few minutes before, I walked down the hall to Drew’s room. I was surprised to see the door wasn’t completely closed, since it normally stayed closed all the time. I nudged it with my fingertips and it moved noiselessly until I could see through a one-inch crack.

  The difference between this room and the rest of the house was startling. There were none of Meridith’s warm colors or cozy fabrics, only black and white. It was perfect, in a way, orderly, symmetrical, and extremely clean, but I was sure most hospital rooms would be more inviting. In fact, it crossed my mind that if a decorator was given the assignment to design a room which would evoke no emotion whatsoever, this would be the result.

  When I saw him, I noted he was still dressed as he had been all day, except his bowtie was now undone and hanging loose around his neck. Matching perfectly with the rest of the room, he was lying on the black comforter with his hands clasped behind his head in a position that, for other people, would be relaxing. Yet, somehow, he didn’t seem relaxed. My eyes traveled down his body and I discovered he hadn’t even removed his shoes. Then it dawned on me that I’d been sleeping in this apartment for nearly a week, and had never seen Drew out of his suit.

  I couldn’t resist the temptation to try to startle him. I pushed the door open and said, “Don’t you own a pair of pajamas?”

  “Yeah, there are some in the top drawer. Why? Do you want to borrow them?” He didn’t seem ruffled in the least by my surprise entrance. He hadn’t moved a muscle when I pushed the door open and when he answered me, it was as if we were already in the middle of a conversation.

  “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, but it’s not why I came. I’m trapped.”

  “Gee, and we just got married a few hours ago,” he said dryly.

  “I mean, in this dress. I have buttons running all the way down my back.” He didn’t move, so I tried again. “It’s too tight to spend the night in. Could you help me out?”

  He sat up on the bed as I walked toward him, feeling insulted, since he didn’t look too pleased about the task I was giving him. I sat down and turned my back to him. Nothing happened for several seconds. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his touch. Finally, I felt him sweep my hair gently off my back and onto my shoulder. My breath caught as his fingers brushed the hairs at the nape of my neck.

  One by one, the buttons were released. He worked slowly and meticulously, first at my neck, then, my upper back. I was glad Meridith had insisted I buy some “absolutely exquisite” lingerie to wear under my dress, not that it was likely to impress Drew.

  He was only a man, though. He wasn’t made of stone. I decided to see if I could get any reaction at all out of him.

  “This could take a while,” I said. “Mind if I lie down while you finish?”

  I didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, I stretched myself out on my stomach and wrapped my arms around his pillow, turning my face so I was looking back at him over my shoulder.

  His expression revealed nothing. Silently, he returned to his task. He got more excited over cooking than he did over a woman getting naked on his bed. I wondered if he would prefer me on the kitchen counter.

  “Okay, you’re out of bondage,” he said without a hint of humor in his voice. “I’ll get you those pajamas.”

  “Great.”

  I’d used the long wait to formulate a plan. While his back was turned, I stood up and wiggled out of the dress, so I was clad only in my lacy bra and panties. But Drew conducted his maneuver with equal skill. Before I knew it, he straightened, turned only slightly in my direction and tossed the pajamas to me like I was a teammate in a locker room. They hit me squarely in the face and, when they fell away, he was gone.

  I couldn’t believe what had happened. Never in my life had I gone to such lengths to get a man’s attention. Come to think of it, I’d never had to go to any lengths at all. Men were always interested. Typically, the question had been whether I was interested in them.

  What a lesson in humility. I slipped into the pajama top he had hurled at me and nearly ran back to my own room. I closed and locked my door, as if it would block out the hurt and embarrassment.

  As I lay in bed, I replayed the last week in my mind. Had I imagined Drew’s interest in me? Had he been pretending in order to get me to agree to marry him? If he had been faking it, why would he stop now when he still needed me for six more months? Even assuming he didn’t have any real feelings for me, what man would ignore a woman practically naked in his room?

  Throughout the night, I felt alternately angry, frustrated, and lonely. At midnight, I got up and unlocked my door, in case he had second thoughts. I climbed back in bed and thought about how ridiculous I was acting over this man. Why him? Why now?

  I finally dozed off around three, dreaming of a handsome man in a tuxedo kissing me on the balcony.

  Chapter Nine

  I awoke at 8:00 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep, even though I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I got into the shower out of habit, but when I was drying my hair, the thought hit me that, for the first time since I could remember, I had nothing to get ready for. I had no job or classes to attend, the wedding was over, and my new husband had no interest in me. What was I going to do with myself?

  After donning a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, I wandered downstairs. Drew stuck his head out of the kitchen door. “Oh, good, you’re up. Breakfast is almost ready,” he said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t completely rejected me the night before.

  “Great,” I replied unenthusiastically.

  I didn’t bother to go in and try to help this time. I plopped down in one of the dining chairs, placed my elbows on the table and covered my face with my hands. Wondering if I would feel any less dejected this morning if I’d gotten more sleep, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and opened them again. For some unknown reason, I repeated the movement several more times. I didn’t ever remember going through this ritual before, and wondered if it was something people started doing when they were losing their minds.

  I’ll have to ask Drew. He should know.

  Glancing over at his usual place at the table, I noticed the newspaper, opened to the society section. There was a lovely couple on the front page. The headline read “Drew Larson weds Mia Medina at Vaughn Estate.” The article was like any other society page report, with no mention of Drew’s past, other than to refer to him as an “heir to the Vaughn fortune.” Meridith was obviously a miracle worker.

  It was the kind of thing I had always wished for, yet it was a hollow victory without a real husband and a real wedding night. Drew came in, apparently in good spirits. “Don’t we make a good couple?” he asked as he placed two platefuls of food on the table. “Meri really pulled it all off. I wonder what kind of favor she had to call in to get that article written.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “The part about us, or the part about Meridith?”

  “Both,” I answered honestly.

  “See what you think of these,” he said as he slid a stack of pancakes onto my plate. “Meridith gave me the recipe. She thought you’d like them.” He was so eager to cook for me. Was all this food expected to take the place of physical intimacy in our relationship? If it was, I’d be growing very fat and very lonely for the next six months.

  But I was hungry and had noth
ing else to do, other than be his captive taste-testing guinea pig, so I picked up my fork and dug in.

  They were the best pancakes I’d ever tasted in my life. “What did you put in these?” I asked after the first swallow.

  “If I tell you, then you have to make them next time.”

  “Oh, well, never mind then.” I loaded up another forkful.

  “So you like them?”

  I took another bite. “Better than sex,” I said with some sarcasm.

  “Really?” He seemed genuinely complimented.

  I decided I must be cohabitating with an alien, because surely Satan would know better than that.

  ~

  Boredom was a worrisome thing for me so I was relieved when Drew suggested a shopping trip after breakfast. Although I wasn’t an avid pleasure shopper—the old Mia rarely had time for such frivolous pursuits—I did enjoy having nice things. The main reason for my excitement, though, was that I’d been concerned his aversion to people would keep us stuck in the apartment seven days a week. The thought of going out anywhere sounded good to me.

  As we left in Drew’s little black sports car, he was commenting on how often it had been in the repair shop lately, even though he didn’t drive that much.

  “Why don’t you get a new car?” I asked. “Do you have some kind of sentimental attachment to this one?”

  “I guess you could say that,” he answered seriously. “This is a Corvette Stingray. My dad got it when I was fifteen, and I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.” His voice grew quiet. “He loved this car. He didn’t even drive it every day, but he took women out in it on weekends—the kind of women who would go out with a man just because he drove a car like this. Anyway, when I was a teenager, he wouldn’t let me drive it, sit in it, or touch it. He told me not to even look at it. Since he died, it’s all I drive.”

  “Sentimentality with a twist.”

  “You mean twist-ed.”

  I chuckled. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  He stopped the car in front of an expensive-looking boutique with the kind of beautiful, colorful clothing in the window that whetted my appetite for attire. “Meridith said you’d like this place.” Drew pulled his wallet from the inside of his suit jacket and handed me a credit card.

  “You’re not coming in?” I asked.

  “No. I’ll wait out here.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a headache, or something.”

  “What does that mean—a headache or something?” He was pulling some kind of shopping bait-and-switch scam on me. “Drew, this was your idea.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t feel like going in now.”

  I was confused and annoyed. “I don’t feel right making decisions about purchases on your credit card.”

  He appeared to have withdrawn from the conversation. He was staring at something out the driver’s side window. “Are you planning to be here when I get back?”

  He turned and looked at me as if I’d asked the most ridiculous question, ever. “Why would I not be here?”

  Glad to have his attention again, I answered, “I thought maybe you were getting tired of me hanging around your apartment, and this was your way of remedying the situation."

  “Like an unwanted puppy?” he asked incredulously.

  I shrugged as if it was as good a metaphor as any.

  “Look, Mia, you didn’t bring a lot of clothes with you, so you need to go get some. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “We can come back later,” I tried again.

  He took in a deep breath and expelled it. I wasn’t sure if it signaled his annoyance with me, or if he was preparing himself for what he was about to say. He seemed to be forcing his eyes to make contact with mine. “I can’t. I thought I could…but I can’t.” His head fell back on the headrest. He closed his eyes. When they opened, he was looking out his window again, but the expression on his face told the story.

  Had he imagined taking me out and buying me nice things—maybe as a show of affection? But now that we were there, he couldn’t face the sales clerks, customers and whatever other warm bodies he might encounter inside. He looked miserable.

  Desperate to find a way to relieve his suffering, I said, “Come to think of it, men tend to be more hindrance than help in these situations, anyway. I’ll make you a deal. If I can have a goodbye kiss to convince me you’re not abandoning me for good, I’ll go in by myself.”

  He turned and looked at me with intense gratitude. He was probably expecting some logical argument about how silly he was acting. I was glad I hadn’t gone that route. He put his hand on my back and gave me a quick, but affectionate kiss on the lips, like I’d seen married couples do so many times before.

  “Get whatever you want,” he instructed as I climbed out of the car. “I haven’t had anything to spend my money on for the past year, so don’t worry about what it costs. If they won’t let you sign, come and get me.”

  For several minutes after I stepped into the boutique, I couldn’t focus on the beautiful clothes all around me. Needing some time to myself, I found the femininely decorated bathroom at the back of the store. As I dabbed at my eyes with the tissues, which were provided atop a lovely antique nightstand, I mentally recapped what had happened. Drew had wanted to please me badly enough to convince himself he could take me around town on a shopping trip. It was obvious he was disappointed in himself when he couldn’t make it happen. He gave me a kiss, which had felt so right, along with his credit card, and told me to get anything I wanted.

  I wasn’t sure why I was so prone to crying, lately. Happy and sad, heartsick and hopeful were all mixed together in the same tears. It concerned me how badly I wanted this marriage to be real.

  ~

  Although the shop was fun, buying was harder than I had thought it would be. I felt strange, using money I hadn’t earned myself. As long as I could remember, there were two options, money I’d made through my own determined efforts, or no money at all. However, since it was true I didn’t have much in the way of casual clothing at his apartment, I managed, with the help of an enthusiastic sales clerk, to pick out two pairs of pants, tops to match, and—my favorite—a plush lavender jogging suit.

  When Drew saw me coming from the store, he hopped out of the car, took the plastic covered clothing from my hands, and slid it behind his seat. “Is this it?” he asked when we were back in the car. “I thought you’d buy more.” He pulled away from the curb.

  “Well, I’ve never tried to spend someone else’s money before,” I explained. “It’s harder than it sounds.”

  “It’s your money too, now. We’re married.”

  I was touched, but couldn’t keep the circumstances of our marriage from my thoughts. “For the next six months.” I’d meant it as a sort of question for him, although it came out sounding more like a statement.

  He appeared to be distracted by oncoming traffic, then, he jumped back to the previous subject. “Meri should go with you next time. She knows how to spend money. Oh, this morning, I ordered you a card with your name on it, so you won’t have any problem signing.”

  I was floored by his casual statement. I wondered how many real husbands remembered to order their wives their own credit cards immediately after the wedding. Maybe I was misunderstanding him. “You ordered me a credit card?” I clarified.

  “Yeah. It’s on that same account. I think we should put you on the checking account, too.”

  I was nearly speechless, but not quite. “Why would you put me on your checking account?”

  “What if I walked outside tomorrow and got run over or something? It could be hard for you to get cash right away if you’re not on the account.”

  How could a conversation be so normal and so bizarre at the same time? Although the people I grew up around had never spoken of such things, I was sure responsible married couples probably had talks like this all the time, but this was supposed to be a very temporary business arrangement. I didn’t know h
ow to respond appropriately under the circumstances, so now I was the one pretending to be distracted by something outside my window.

  After a few minutes, Drew asked, “Have you really never spent anyone else’s money before?”

  “No. Why does that surprise you?”

  “I thought guys must have…” He didn’t finish his thought, but I knew what he was getting at.

  “They bought me dinner, and I got a few gifts. Come to think of it, I guess there were a couple who tried to do more, but independence is a hard habit to break. Besides, I didn’t want to feel like I owed them anything, and I never wanted to feel like a pros—” I had been thinking of a woman in my old neighborhood, but in the middle of the last word, it hit me that I had married him for three million dollars and I was essentially a kept woman, even if I did have a marriage certificate and no sex to show for it.

  For once, he caught on to my train of thought without me spelling it out to him. “Mia, you know I don’t—you know I could never think of you that way.”

  “Yeah, I know.” And strangely, I did know.

  ~

  Drew appeared fine the rest of the day, and I thought I’d managed to rescue him from any self-recrimination over the episode at the dress shop. However, that night, at dinner, he was especially quiet. My attempts to draw him into our favorite pastime—trading sarcastic comments with each other—failed completely. I gave up and ate in silence.

  Finally, when we’d finished, and I made a move to leave the table, he spoke. “Mia, today, I wanted to…” His voice trailed off as his eyes left mine to look out at the dark sky through the window next to us. “I wish I could have—”

  “Drew,” I placed my hand on his, drawing his gaze back to me. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.” He stared into my eyes intently. It was strange how I always found myself holding my breath when he did that. I was surprised when the hand I was touching turned palm up and his warm fingers caressed my wrist. I swallowed hard as I imagined them sliding up my arm and touching my…