Unexpected Wedding

by Rossi, Carla

  Gia touched the handle of his chair. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes, Gia, I’ll be happy to win you that huge purple teddy bear, but I need to do some carb-loading first.”

  “OK, good. I need that. But that’s not my question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Where do you stand on the so-called politically correct terms to describe your disability? And don’t make fun of me because I asked you where you stand on something.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.” He slowed his pace and tried to speak loud enough to cover the din of the crowd. “What specific terms are you asking about?”

  “Well, when working with children we try so hard to not say anything that would hurt their self-esteem or make them feel less capable. We don’t say ‘that’s an autistic child,’ for example. We say ‘that child has autism.’ And we wouldn’t say a kid is ‘paraplegic and confined to a wheelchair,’ we would say that person ‘has paraplegia and is a wheelchair user.’”

  He came to a stop in the catfish line. The smell of bubbling oil and hushpuppies in the fryer made his stomach growl. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I don’t care. I understand you have to be careful with children, but it seems to me the only people who are concerned about what’s politically correct are people who don’t have disabilities. It may not be socially appropriate these days to say I’m wheelchair bound or confined to this chair, but I pretty much am. I wouldn’t get many places without it.”

  She shrugged and moved forward. “I get that.”

  He surrendered a bunch of tickets to the overheated, crimson-faced teenager at the door of the tent. “The only word I really hate is handicapped. It’s like a slap in the face. And challenged doesn’t make sense to me. It’s like sugar-coating handicapped. Bottom line is, it’s up to the individual and it doesn’t matter to me.”

  She handed him a plastic tray. “Thanks for telling me.”

  He handed her bundle of plastic utensils. “You’re welcome.”

  “What about—”

  “No more questions, woman. You’re wearing me out. I never talk this much. Are you always so intense?”

  “Well—”

  “Don’t answer that, but hey, would you please grab that jar of tartar sauce and find a table?”

  She slipped her paper plate full of fried food off the counter. “Anything else?”

  “Ketchup.”

  “There’s ketchup on the table.”

  “Then grab that bottle of cocktail sauce and a bunch of those salt packets.”

  She put a cup of iced tea on her tray. “And you seem like such a health-conscious guy.”

  “I am. We’ll come back for dessert.”

  He scooted to the table she claimed and unloaded his dinner.

  There was a quick fuzzy-like moment when they both bowed their heads and gave thanks, and then a corny-like chuckling moment when they both realized what they’d done. All the flirty goofiness somehow boosted his confidence.

  He leaned back a little and rested his hand on the back of her chair. “Maybe later I can get you on the Ferris wheel.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t do travelling carnival rides. It’s not safe, and I don’t need to be dangling in the air when I’m stuffed full of fried catfish and blueberry pie.”

  He moved closer, now with so much oozing charm he thought he might hurt himself if he didn’t unleash it on her. “Not even with me and a promise I won’t let you fall out?”

  She took a sip of tea and looked straight into his eyes with a chocolate-chip-colored gaze. “Not even if Channing Tatum and Ryan Gosling offered me a seat between them.”

  ****

  Gia ran her finger across the plastic nose of the plush four-inch baby yellow bear. “I think he’s cute.”

  “He’s too small. You should have let me keep trying for the giant one.”

  She pulled a fresh bottle of water out of the pouch on Rocky’s chair and sat on the brick wall that circled a massive oak in the center of the grounds. Nightfall had shaved a few degrees off the stagnant heat, and a rare breeze caught the multi-colored paper lanterns above them. They crinkled and swayed, their shadows passing through the flashing neon lights of the carnival rides and reflecting in Rocky’s big brown eyes. “First of all, I’m not going to let you spend any more money trying to win something we can buy on the way home at a gas station. Second, you had your fun showing off. I’ve got more novelty toys here than a gift shop in a truck stop. And what do I need with a gargantuan flyswatter and a fat, two-foot number two pencil?”

  “Hey, that thing really works.”

  “Do you see any two-foot composition books around here to go with it?”

  “Nope. I thought you could donate all that to the prop box at camp.”

  “I will.” She pressed her nose to the bear. “All except this little guy. I’m keeping him.”

  “I can still get the big one.”

  “You are not getting the big one.” She dug in her stash for the t-shirts he’d won earlier and tossed him one. “I think we should put these on.”

  “No.”

  “Why not? They’re hilarious.” She held up hers. “It’s a huge floppin’ catfish with enormous blueberry eyes. Where else can we see this?”

  “Thankfully nowhere.”

  “Put it on,” she urged.

  “It’s too small.”

  “No it’s not. Large is the only size they had and you are not that big. C’mon. I’m going to find that ladies room and put on mine.”

  He met her gaze and arched a brow. His lopsided grin grew into a smile. He was too cute when he was about to give in.

  “All right. I have to go wash up anyway. I’ll meet you back here in ten or fifteen. I can’t remember where I saw the accessible bathroom.”

  “Want me to go with you? I have that map here somewhere.”

  “No, but if you don’t have that t-shirt on when I get back I’m not letting you stay for the fireworks.”

  “A deal’s a deal,” she said and grabbed her plastic bag full of loot.

  The busy, stuffy bathroom reminded her of camp. People dashed in and out, slamming doors and dropping wads of paper towels on the sticky floor.

  She quickly peeled off her yellow top and slipped on the tee. It hung well past her waist, and the giant sleeves made her look like she was about to take flight. Still, it was funny.

  Something else surprised her about the look she saw in the mirror. She was grinning. Like from ear to ear. She never did that. Of course, she smiled at camp and that did make her happy, but this grin was about having a good time. And really, when was the last time she had a genuine good time with a guy?

  She splashed water on her cheeks, smoothed her wild, sweaty hair, and put on a fresh coat of lip gloss.

  Then she waited for Rocky by the wall as ten to fifteen turned into more like twenty-five to thirty.

  She texted him a question mark.

  He didn’t respond, but within seconds he rounded the corner toward the massive oak. He had a passenger.

  He came to a stop in front of her. The big purple bear sat in his lap. “Here,” he said and pushed it into her arms.

  “I thought we agreed we would stick with the baby yellow bear and that we didn’t need to waste any more money on the big purple bear.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t agree to anything. Nice shirt, by the way.”

  She’d almost forgotten about that in her efforts to prop her new friend on the wall beside her. When she took a good look at his, it surprised her. The shirt was too small for him. Muscles bulged everywhere and stretched the once happy blueberry-eyed catfish into a sad misshapen blob. She struggled to read the words.

  “All right, you win, you need to take that off. It looks like you shrunk a load of laundry.”

  “Not now. You started this.” He motioned toward his chest and flexed his biceps for show. “I’m a former college football player. I told you I
had a lot going on up here and that a large wouldn’t fit right.”

  She stood and pointed at her own new mini-dress. “Well, I apparently don’t have enough going on up here... Uh... Never mind. What am I supposed to do with this bear?”

  “We can use him as a cushion when we sit out in the field and watch the fireworks,” he said and rolled off.

  “Isn’t it too bright to see anything with all the carnival lights?”

  “They dim everything at nine-thirty.”

  “Nice. I hope my insect repellent hasn’t worn off. I don’t need to be a meal for mosquitos. I get enough of that at camp.”

  “Gotcha covered. I have some in one of these pockets.”

  “What don’t you carry around with you?”

  “Blueberry pie. Wish I had more.”

  Rocky paused at the edge of the sidewalk and let the crowd shuffle past.

  Gia shifted the bear onto her other hip. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m looking for the path of least resistance.”

  Gia stepped onto grass. “We haven’t had rain. This ground is hard as a rock. If you fall in a hole, I’ll put the bear in the chair and go on without you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She trudged forward to find a good spot. She could hear him right behind her as he worked hard and steady to keep the chair moving across the field. It had to be considerably more difficult than rolling on concrete. Yet, she felt an offer of help would bother him. Not offering to help would bother her.

  “I’ll give you an extra push if you’ll let the bear ride in your lap,” she proposed.

  “I got it,” he said. “There’s a place up ahead that doesn’t look too crowded.”

  “I see it. There’s not much light, but I’ll check for fire ant mounds.”

  “Good idea.”

  “If I’d remembered about the fireworks, I would have brought something to sit on,” she said and dropped her things.

  “Sit on my shirt,” he said and tossed it her way.

  She tossed it back. “I’m not sitting on your white shirt. I’ll be fine.”

  Gia patted the ground beside her. “Can you climb down from that thing and sit here?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  If she’d have blinked, she would have missed the transfer. One second he’d locked his brakes and the next he was beside her on the grass. In one fluid movement he’d leaned forward, stuck his arm out, planted his fist on the ground, and gracefully slipped out of the chair.

  “That was fast,” she said.

  “Years of practice.” He straightened his legs and used the bear as a pillow as he stretched out to watch the sky. “Much better. And don’t be too impressed with the dismount. Gravity helps. Getting back in is the hard part.”

  She leaned back against her share of the stuffed animal. “I was going to wait until I could hear your whole presentation to learn about your injury, but now I’m curious. What happened to you, anyway? Was it football?”

  “That would be a good, tragic tale laced with glamor and its own highlight reel, but no, it wasn’t football.”

  “Car accident?”

  He swiped a lock of dark hair away from his forehead and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Are you going to let me tell my own story?”

  “Yes, and I wish you’d get on with it before the show starts.”

  “All right. Here comes the short version.”

  “Why the short version?”

  “Because it’s your turn to talk. I don’t know anything about you.”

  Gia looked away. Where was she going to start if she ever had to truly tell him about herself? She was a terror as a child, a total mess as a teen, and a repeated failure as a college student. Some days it was hard to remember she’d really pulled herself together. She cleared her throat and turned toward him. “We’ll get to my mistake-filled existence later. Please tell me more. How’d you end up in that chair, what do you do with computers and what do you do for fun?”

  With a curious tilt of his head, he pinned her with a soft but intense gaze. She had to look away again. His heavy sigh seemed to mark his temporary retreat from his own questions.

  “I was at a party I shouldn’t have been at, and on a balcony I shouldn’t have been on because it was too crowded and collapsed. The fall broke my spine. Or should I say my spine broke my fall? I have a computer consulting business and mostly work from home. If not for viruses and lost files, I’d be out of work. I do lots of things for fun, but I really enjoy music ministry so I play the bass guitar in my church’s worship band.”

  A zillion questions crossed her mind. Rocky kept staring at her as if waiting for her to tick them off. As soon as she opened her mouth he raised his hand.

  “Don’t even think about it. I’m not telling you anything else. It’s your turn to pass on some information. What are you going to do for work when camp ends? What do you do for fun? Do you, by chance, play bass in a worship band?”

  She shifted on the ground to avoid pieces of dried grass that were poking and tickling her calves. These were not hard questions. Rocky was so easy to talk to. Why was she so reluctant?

  She smiled. “No bass guitar. I do like to sing, but it’s best if no one hears me. I would love to go to grad school full time in the fall but it doesn’t seem to be working out that way. As for fun, well...”

  A sudden, earth-shaking boom and a spray of shimmering color stopped her words. Saved by pyrotechnics.

  Rocky laced his fingers behind his head. “You’re not off the hook.”

  “Shh. Can’t talk now. Fireworks.”

  The crackling blast of accompanying music blared through the poor-quality speakers. Saved by John Philip Sousa and pulsing rock and roll from the seventies.

  They looked at each other and laughed as they tried to sing along and anticipate what great American classic would come up next. Gia relaxed in their easy companionship, but she’d probably never tell him this was the most real fun she’d had in years.

  Back on the sidewalk, as the dispersing crowd ambled past them, Gia paused to remove her sandals. “Oh man, that feels better.”

  “You OK?”

  “Yeah, fine. I get so tired of wearing those bulky cross-trainers at camp I thought I’d wear these. Big mistake. I have old blisters that have new blisters of their own.”

  “You can’t walk all the way to the car barefoot. There’s trash everywhere.”

  “I’ll risk it. I can’t put those things back on.”

  Rocky patted his lap. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”

  Gia stepped back. “Uh... No.”

  “Don’t look so disgusted. I’m not trying to be a perv or anything.”

  “Oh, please, it’s not that. It’s just... That’s your personal space. And what about the weight? We’ve got every pocket on that chair stuffed full. By the way, I’m adding my sandals. Then there’s this bear. There’s not room in that thing for all three of us.”

  And that’s the last complete thought she had before the man quite literally swept her off her feet.

  She landed in his lap with the bear on top of her.

  She screamed.

  “Don’t scream. Someone might think I’m up to something.”

  “Sorry. It was a reflex scream.”

  “Once in a while, Gia, you’re going to have to stop asking questions and listen to me. Sometimes I know what I’m doing.” He wrestled with the bear. “Scoot this way a little. You can put your arm around the back of the chair. Keep your legs over here. Almost like sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall. Or not.”

  She’d have to agree with him there. Santa never smelled good like something manly/woodsy/spicy.

  “Keep your eyes on the road,” he instructed. “I can’t see much. Let me know about any big holes and don’t let me mow someone down. Hold on to the bear.”

  She started to laugh and screamed again as they took off.

  “Don’t scream. Especially in my ear.”

 
; “Sorry.”

  Wind caressed her bare toes and caught in her hair as he peeled away from the crowd and picked up speed while coasting down a side street.

  “Slow down,” she said through more laughter. “There’s a stop sign coming.”

  “Are you implying I should stop and look both ways?”

  “No, I’m implying you should not crash us into the stop sign.”

  “Good. ‘Cause I don’t think I can stop.”

  “What?”

  “Kidding. But hold on. We’re gonna roll through that crosswalk.”

  “No! There could be a car coming.”

  “That street’s closed so all the traffic will exit down the main drag.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her question was lost in the bubble of excitement that rose in her chest and took her breath. She dropped her arm around his neck and held on tighter.

  They reached the edge of the intersection. He didn’t slow down, but hit the ramp perfectly and they rolled into the street.

  The bear bounced out.

  “Man overboard,” Gia cried.

  “Hang on,” he said and made some sort of rapid circling move which enabled her to reach out and grab it as they came around again.

  “Stop,” she said as they popped up on the other side. “I need to catch my breath.”

  “I’m doing all the work.”

  “I know, but I’m laughing too hard to breathe.”

  He came to a stop amidst the bright light of a camera flash. Funny, Gia felt as if they’d been alone.

  “How ya doin’?” a young man asked as he approached. “Can I take your picture?”

  Rocky slipped a protective arm around her waist. “I believe you just did,” he said coolly as if annoyed by the intrusion.

  “Oh no. I’ve been shooting the big exit.” He handed them a card. “I work for the festival. I’m photographing for the paper, next year’s brochure and website, you know, human interest stuff. You two look like you’re having a good time. You got the bear, the festival t-shirts. You’re exactly what I need.”