The Marriage Pact

by Dinah McLeod

  “Shan! I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

  “I never miss a wedding,” I said with a wink. It was true. In all the time I’d been gone, whenever I got a wedding invitation from one of my high school friends I made the trip back—flying when I could afford it and road tripping it when money was tight. This one made it five weddings in the last three years.

  “Just your own,” he teased and I didn’t even bother to fake a laugh. People in our town had been making runaway bride jokes at my expense for years. Nobody seemed to care that technically we’d never been engaged.

  “When are you and Marcy tying the knot?” I shot back. The look on his face told me that I’d just gained the upper hand. He wouldn’t be messing with me anymore this trip.

  “I’m still a young man, Shan. A bird’s gotta be free and so do I.”

  “She dumped you,” I deadpanned.

  “Burned!” Becky chimed in. “You got burned!”

  I gave him a faint smile, which he returned. “Things happen sometimes. People grow apart.”

  “Hey, speaking of growing apart and all, your best bud’ll be happy to see you’re back in town.”

  I arched an eyebrow. Brody was here? He didn’t do weddings. Even if I’d accepted his proposal three years ago, we would have just eloped.

  “Nice seein’ ya.”

  “Yeah, you too. Take care of yourself, Parker.”

  “Sure thing, and you know, if you get lonely while you’re here…”

  I rolled my eyes at him, but I had to laugh. “I still remember that time in sixth grade when you got a crayon stuck up your nose on a dare. Sorry, don’t think that one’s fading anytime soon.”

  He waved me away with a hand, but I could see him grinning as he ambled off. Harry Parker had always been a ladies’ man, moving from one girl to the next when it suited him. Even though I had been more than a bit lonely lately, he wasn’t one I’d want to pass time with.

  “Did you know he was going to be here?” I asked Becky as I turned around. Aunt Liz had disappeared. It was so like her to say hello with fanfare and then vanish in the next instant.

  “‘Course I knew.”

  I whirled on her, glaring daggers. “What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?” The words came out as an angry hiss, more vehement than I’d intended.

  “‘Cause you wouldn’t have come,” she answered without remorse. Becky knew she wasn’t in any danger of me staying mad for long. Next to Brody, she’d been my best friend for the four grueling years of high school and the one to comfort me in the days leading up to graduation when Brody wouldn’t even look at me. Rumors circulated fast and while I never knew exactly what people were saying about me, it was clear none of it was in my favor. None of the basketball team would talk to me and Brody wasn’t lacking for female attention.

  “Because I don’t need to be here if—”

  “Shana, you made it!” Kristina Lasky, my chem partner in eleventh grade, walked up to us wearing the poofiest white dress I’d ever seen. What’s more, it looked like the front was completely covered in white fishnet.

  “Of course I did!” I gushed, returning her hug. “What a beaut—stunning—original dress! It’s so… you, Kristina!”

  “Isn’t it though?” she asked, beaming as she twirled for us. “Getting married is such a blast! And you know the best part?”

  I shook my head and out of the corner of my eye saw Becky do the same.

  “You don’t have to try so hard!” she whispered, as though she was sharing long-hoarded secrets to matrimonial bliss. “I plan on eating at least three desserts a day on our honeymoon! After all these months of dieting and cleansing… I swear, if I never see an organic smoothie again, I’ll die a happy woman.”

  Of diabetic shock, I thought to myself.

  “Hey, have you seen Brody yet?” Her voice took on the same pitying, sympathetic tone people used when they brought him up in conversation with me. “Is it weird that we invited both of you? Just that Matt and he were such good friends. Are, I mean. They are.”

  “Is it weird?” I echoed. “No, Kristina, it’s not weird. We all grew up together, he still lives here. We’re going to run into each other sooner or later. And you know what, it’s been three years. I’m sure Brody’s moved on and so have I.” I hadn’t realized how loud I’d been speaking until I saw Becky’s mouth round into an O of surprise.

  “Well, excuse me!” she huffed. “I’ll mind my own business from now on!”

  “Kristina, wait!”

  She disappeared in a flouncing huff of tulle, swallowed by a crowd of well-wishers.

  I closed my eyes, trying to turn my ears off for just a second and pretend I wasn’t hearing the whispers of people talking about me. When I opened them, Becky was standing in front of me with a concerned expression.

  “Should we get out of here? Maybe you’re not up for this.”

  “It has been three years,” I mumbled, a poor defense if ever there was one. “Why can’t people move on?”

  “People like happy endings, that’s all.”

  “They like the drama,” I muttered. “What do they think is going to happen? We’re going to run into each other and our love, our reignited flame, is going to light the sky with fireworks?”

  “Damn, girl,” she grinned. “If being a doctor doesn’t pan out, you should try your hand at poetry.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Have you had the crab puffs yet? They’re supposed to be ‘superbly rich and decadent.’”

  “Let me guess. Aunt Liz told you that.”

  “Bingo.”

  It wasn’t that I’d been avoiding Brody; we just never happened to see each other when I came home on break. His parents had gotten divorced the year after we graduated and sometimes I wondered if he hadn’t staged the whole thing just to have an excuse to avoid me when I came home for visits. How could he know whether or not I was going to be home for Thanksgiving? I pointed a finger at my mother, who was still very close with Brody’s mom and surely told her my plans. When I’d asked her about it, she’d denied it, of course, leaving me to wonder if I was just being paranoid, or if it was possible that he really was avoiding me.

  It was time to move on. The past was the past and we’d been such good friends, once upon a time. I’d known running into him was fated to happen the minute I’d heard he was at the wedding—it just didn’t happen in the way I’d expected. I’d just finished using the facilities and was at the sink, lathering my hands when the door burst open, hinges squeaking.

  I’d turned my head to see a man stumbling into the bathroom. “Excuse me, sir? Did you know you—” When he lifted his head and I saw those familiar brown eyes, my heart stopped. It took a good minute for me to remember how to breathe, which came back only out of necessity. “Brody?”

  “Shana,” he replied with a bark of laughter I almost didn’t recognize. “Of course. Figures you’d be here. I mean, I knew you were here, but I didn’t think to find you in the men’s room. Changed a little more than we all expected?”

  I took a step back, staggering at his cavalier tone and the implication. “If you must know, this is the women’s restroom. Do you see any urinals in here?”

  He swiveled his head, barely blinking as he took it in. “Oops, so it is. Guess I better go back to school to learn me some readin’. Bet you don’t have that problem, seeing as how you’re going to Brown and all.”

  I scowled at him, not finding the situation funny in the least. “Use whatever bathroom you want, I don’t care.” I tried to brush past him, but he grabbed my arm.

  “No, I don’t guess you do care much about me at all.”

  I tried to tug my arm away, but he held on tight. “Stop it, Brody. You’re drunk.”

  “Damn straight,” he said lazily. “I get drunk at every single one of these things, want to take a stab at why?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “Because I can’t stop imagining how you would have looked in a white dress
.”

  The words hurt more than they should have. It had been three years, should he still be able to pierce my heart like this? “What I did was—”

  “Selfish,” he snapped, tightening his grip.

  “Brody, please. You’re hurting me.”

  He looked down at my arm and the look on his face made me think he’d forgotten he was holding onto me. His grip slackened and I yanked my arm away.

  I drew away from him, my eyes wary as I pressed my back against the door.

  He looked at me for a long minute, his eyes scanning up and down before he sneered. “You’re right, it was probably for the best. This way I get a chance to find someone who might actually care about me.”

  I tried to protest, but my lips wouldn’t move. Not that it seemed to matter much to Brody—he walked into one of the stalls and shut it behind him. I yanked open the door and tumbled out of it, bumping into a girl who’d been on her way in. I didn’t even bother muttering an apology as I hightailed it out of there. I kept right on walking until I reached the parking lot.

  Only when I got that far away from him did I allow myself to feel the heat radiating up and down my arm where he’d touched me. It had been three years, but he hadn’t moved on. And apparently, neither had I.

  * * *

  I didn’t see or hear a word of Brody for nearly two years after that. Despite the realization I’d had in the parking lot that night, I’d gotten right back in the car and driven to the place I was still trying to tell myself was home. I’d fallen mindlessly back into my routine. I was a creature of habit and it comforted me to go to bed at night knowing the next morning I’d wake at six, run three miles and study until it was time for class while munching on Cocoa Puffs. Classes started at nine and didn’t end until well after dark, after which I’d come home so tired that I barely had strength enough to get in the shower. Once, I’d fallen asleep with the water cascading over my body, only jolting awake when the water had turned freezing cold. After that, I’d fallen into bed, hoping sleep would come easily before I had to rinse and repeat.

  I thought of Brody constantly the first month after the wedding. My arm had never quite recovered; I felt like the DNA in his fingertips had been imprinted on my flesh, a constant reminder that I wasn’t whole without him. I tried to get him out of my head—he didn’t really deserve to be there anyway, after the way he treated me, but soon he’d infiltrated my dreams in the same way I carried him with me every waking moment.

  I had hurt so deeply after things had ended so suddenly between us. I wished he could have realized how badly my decision had torn me apart. Did he think that I hadn’t had a moment where I wished I could turn back time and give him a different answer? There had been a thousand such moments.

  Brody became so ingrained in my thoughts that I stopped sleeping. Instead, I paced my dormitory, textbook in hand as I read and reread the same sentence over and over again. This went on, night after night, until my roommate complained, after which I spent the night hours staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning, remembering all the times his lips had met mine. I didn’t know what I wanted more—to forget how the inside of his mouth tasted, or to have him in front of me, willing to let me taste it again.

  Then I started seeing him everywhere I went—his hair, but on a boy much too short. His laugh, from a man who couldn’t have looked less like him. Any which way I turned, it was just one bitter disappointment after another. Finally, worn down to my last ounce of sanity, I’d picked up the phone and dialed his house, hoping to get the answering machine so I could hear his voice. His mom hadn’t changed the tape since he’d recorded the message at eleven years old, consisting entirely of knock-knock jokes. Knock, knock, who’s there? I thought as I listened to the phone ring. It’s me, Brody… When his mother had answered the phone instead, I’d slammed the phone down, shocked by how disappointed I felt.

  I still looked back at that time, when I’d been consumed with confusion and self-doubt and found it nothing short of miraculous that I had graduated at all, much less with honors. Nothing other than sheer determination could have made it happen. That, and my economics tutor; I owed him more than a little gratitude.

  Still, I’d passed and with time and distance between us, even Brody began to fade into the background along with everything else that had to be forgotten as I started my rotation at the local hospital. The days were long and the nights longer. I stayed so busy, sometimes I didn’t remember to eat until I got home and some nights I was so tired, I didn’t even bother. Coffee became my drug of choice, which I relied on heavily to keep me awake and focused.

  I even went out for drinks with another doctor, but all he’d wanted to talk about was the difficult cases only he’d been able to solve. By case number seven, I could hardly keep my eyelids open. We never went on a second date and my dating life in the last two years was summed up neatly.

  “Your coffee, ma’am?”

  I looked up and smiled at the flight attendant. “Thanks, Debra.”

  “Your fourth cup?”

  “Fifth. It’s a long flight,” I said, smiling sheepishly. Sure enough, I had my familiar coffee buzz. These days, I didn’t leave home without it.

  Even though the incessant thoughts of my ex-boyfriend no longer plagued my mind, this close to home it was hard not to think about him. Was he still angry at me, after all this time? Would he look any different? It had been two years and he would have moved gracefully into manhood. I couldn’t imagine that the years had been anything but good to him—Brody was such an easy charmer, I was sure even Mother Nature wasn’t immune.

  When the plane landed, my parents met me at the airport with grand fanfare, as was their way. My mother couldn’t help gushing, loud enough for every passerby to hear, “She’s home! My daughter, the doctor.”

  “Stop, Mom,” I chided, feeling all of twelve years old again. That was the year I’d won the local science fair and she had bragged about it to anybody and everybody until I couldn’t walk out my door without someone congratulating me. Moms. At the time, I’d thought I would just die of mortification.

  “I’m just proud of you,” she said, patting my arm and I resigned myself to her fussing. It only came once or twice a year, anyway.

  “Where’s Jonas?” I asked, scanning the crowd for my brother, who was now a sophomore in high school. My, how time flew.

  “He’s in the car and Dad went to baggage claim to collect your luggage. Now, tell me, dear, do you need to go get fitted for a dress this afternoon?”

  “I sent my measurements in, but yes, I’ll need to try it on.”

  “Always a bridesmaid,” she said with a wistful little sigh. She didn’t have to say it out loud for me to know that she wished I’d go ahead and tie the knot so I could start working on her grandchildren. I suppose it was what every mother wanted. What I couldn’t make her understand was that I was too busy for a love life, not to mention uninterested.

  “It’s the first time I’ve been a bridesmaid,” I laughed. “Come on.”

  “You’ll look lovely,” she said, her voice over-bright, trying to hide the things she wasn’t saying.

  * * *

  Tiffany and I had been close for about a millisecond, but it was an intense one, as high school friendships tended to be. For all of seven months, we were joined at the hip and very BFF. It didn’t seem to matter that I hadn’t spoken with her since the last wedding I’d bumped into her at two years ago—she’d still called to ask me to be a bridesmaid.

  And I hadn’t hesitated. That’s what friends did for each other, right? Besides which, life had been incredibly hectic and stressful lately and I needed a break. Shrimp cocktail and free booze seemed just the way to do it, even if I had to stand in a stiff, burlap sack of a gown to get it.

  I’d missed my parents, too. It would be good to see them and spend time with someone other than my medical textbooks and sleep-deprived colleagues for a change. I didn’t let myself think about who else I might run into.
/>   “Shana! You’re home!”

  I whirled around at the sound of the squeal just before Becky launched herself at me. She wasn’t an overly touchy person, which was why hugs from her were extra special. “Hey! I was going to call you when I got back home.”

  “Jesus, what are we, Facebook friends? Call me before your plane lands, you know better! Girl, let me have a look at you.”

  “That bad?” I asked, straining to see my reflection in the store window.

  “Gorgeous,” she said, with the easy confidence of someone who loves you.

  “Are you in the wedding? Tiffany didn’t mention it.”

  “No-o.” She rolled her eyes and leaned forward conspiratorially. “She’s three months pregnant and I accidentally spilled the beans to Mommy Dearest.”

  My eyes widened and I clasped a hand over my mouth to smother the gasp. “You didn’t!”

  She grinned wickedly. “What can I say, I had one too many that night. Now, turn around.”

  I spun around obediently. “So, what are you doing here then?”

  “I was just going over to Johnson’s for a bite to eat when I saw you. I had to stop by and say hi.”

  At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled loudly. “Mmm, Johnson’s,” I sighed wistfully. Old Man Johnson had been cooking at his own restaurant for as long as anybody could remember, an old Mom and Pop joint that he’d run with his wife until she passed a few years back. At one point, it had looked like he would have to sell the place, but instead he’d converted it into a Waffle House, which didn’t require much more than a new sign and a coat of paint. Still, everyone called it Johnson’s.

  “You should come! It’ll give us some time to catch up!”

  “I wish I could, but I really need to make sure this dress doesn’t need to be altered.”

  “It looks like it just needs to be shortened an inch or so in front and pulled in at the bust.”

  I blushed as she so casually mentioned my small boobs.