Marriage Matters (2 page)

Clearly surprised to see anyone in her trailer, this bride jumped and then her face crumpled. “No, he didn’t get cold feet. I . . . I think I did.”

June was surprised. It seemed that, for a young lady who had invested so much time and energy into her look, she had failed to give much thought to what it meant to say forever. Without mincing words, June told her just that.

Kristine stepped forward, her freckled face flushed crimson. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “My mother is suffering from heatstroke but don’t worry, we’re leaving. Right now.”

Kristine gave her dress another firm yank. June gripped the plastic counter to hold her footing. “Stop,” June said as Kristine somehow managed to slide her back a full two feet. “I am simply—”

“She’s right,” the bride said. After touching a bouquet of pink roses on the counter, the girl sank down onto a white wicker stool. “She’s absolutely right.”

Slowly, Kristine released her grip. “She is?”

June sniffed, straightening her shoulders. Of course she was right. Whether her daughter wanted to give her credit or not, June often knew what was good for everyone else before they knew it themselves.

“I’ve dreamed about my wedding day ever since I was a little girl,” the bride sniffled. “Now that it’s here, it’s just . . . not what I thought it would be.”

“Weddings
have
gotten a little outrageous . . .” Chloe started to say.

Kristine silenced her with a look.

The bride gave a wistful smile. “I just always thought I was going to marry . . .” She hesitated. “Well . . .”

“A prince,” June suggested. “A movie star. Barack Obama.”

“A firefighter.” The bride’s eyes were pained. “I grew up next to a fire station and every night I’d hear the fire trucks head off to rescue someone. I thought I’d marry someone like that. Someone who . . .” Another tear trickled down her cheek. “Someone who could rescue me.” Off June’s silence, the bride shook her head. “It doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does,” June said. “You want to feel safe.” Back when Eugene was alive, June had always felt safe. The hardest part about losing him was the knowledge that the one person who could protect her was gone.

The bride shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

The fans of the air-conditioning whirred in the silence. In the mirror, June saw that Chloe was chewing on her lip, as though considering the girl’s words, and Kristine was staring down at her wedding ring.

“Every bride goes through this,” June said. “Whether it happens six months before the wedding, two days before or even on the day of, there will be tears, regrets and what-ifs. Trust me, I know. I almost backed out of my wedding.”

“You did?” Kristine asked.

June smiled. “I asked my mother to send me to a nunnery. But . . . She tapped me on the cheek and said, ‘That’s a terrible idea. You’ll just get kicked out.’”

Chloe laughed. “She was right about that.”

“
So, I got married instead.” June indicated her family. “And it was the best decision I ever made.”

The bride studied her engagement ring again. Just beyond the door, the muffled voices of the bridal party talked and giggled. The faint strains of a harp began to play.

“If you’re really going to call off this wedding”—June did her best to keep her voice gentle—“you won’t want to do it alone. We need to go find your best friend.”

Chloe nodded, moving toward the door. “Is it your maid of honor? I’ll go get her.”

“No.” The bride shrugged. “That’s the worst part.”

June felt a flicker of hope. “Why?”

“Because Robbie’s my best friend. I can talk to him about anything, he always makes me laugh and he knows just what to say when I’m feeling . . .” The girl’s voice trailed off. “Oh.” The sound was barely a whisper.

“You love him, don’t you?” June asked.

The bride’s eyes widened. “I do.” Jumping to her feet, she stared at June as though she were a magician. “I do!”

“Well, save those I dos for the altar,” June laughed. “Because there’s a wedding out there waiting for you.”

“And it’s beautiful,” Kristine said.

“You should marry him.” Chloe nodded. “I mean, if he really is your best friend.”

June grabbed another tissue from the counter. Quickly, she dabbed at a tiny smear of mascara just below the girl’s eyes then gave her a little push. “Go.”

The bride rushed toward the door, her white dress swaying behind her. Suddenly, she stopped and grabbed her throwing bouquet out of the vase by the mirror. “I was going to do this at the reception, but . . .” Raising it up, the bride gave June a mischievous smile. “Catch.”

Before June could even register what was happening, the bouquet was flying through the air toward her face. June put up her hands, more as an instinctive block than anything. A hard stem hit her palm and she felt her fingers wrap around it. Kristine’s and Chloe’s hands folded over the top of hers. Stunned, June looked down at a bouquet of pink and white roses, surrounded by a cheerful spray of baby’s breath.

The bride squealed. “You’re next! All
three
of you.”

Chloe gave a nervous giggle. “Um, do I have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

Kristine shook her head. “I’m . . . I’m married.”

June raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise?”

“Thank you.” The bride clasped her hands, her eyes bright. “This was . . .” She bowed her head, as though realizing the enormity of what she’d almost done. Looking up, she smiled at June. “Thank you.”

The young girl opened the door. Sunshine spilled into the room and Lake Michigan shimmered in the background. The bridesmaids saw her and waved, chattering in excitement.

June extended her arms like an usher. Her daughter and granddaughter grabbed hold, the bouquet in the center. “Come on,” June said. “Let’s go see what this marriage thing is all about.”

Two

C
hloe eased her eyes open and yawned. They were on the way back home from the wedding, the cab zipping along the Kennedy Expressway. June was fast asleep against Chloe’s arm, snoring softly, while Kristine sat by the window on the opposite side of her, reading.

Lowering the cab window, Chloe let the warm breeze whip through her hair as she squinted up at the skyline of Chicago. Sun glinted off the skyscrapers in reflections of blue and gold. She was happy to be back home.

Chloe loved Chicago. The bustle of the River Walk in the summer, the “we’ll survive this arctic freeze” camaraderie of the winter and the fact that she could hear live music, find an art fair or even seek out an academic lecture, all on a whim. It was good she’d fallen in love with the city, because June and Kristine would lie down in front of the U-Haul if she ever tried to leave.

At the thought, Chloe glanced at her mother. She was flipping through a travel guide, still trying to learn random facts about Michigan. As she turned a page, her wedding ring flashed in the sunlight.

“Mom,”
Chloe whispered in an effort to not wake up June. “Hey! Happy anniversary.”

Kristine placed a finger in the book to hold her spot. “Twenty-five years. Can you believe it?”

“Of course I believe it.” Chloe’s parents were opposites, but something about them had always worked. “Is Dad taking you out tonight?”

Kristine smoothed down her white polo shirt. It still appeared crisp and fresh, even after the indignity of air travel. “He flew out today. It would be too hard, getting up at four tomorrow to catch a flight.”

Chloe’s father started working as a regional manager for a solar plant company after the company he’d been with forever laid him off. Chloe thought traveling four days a week would be brutal. Her father just joked it was a great opportunity to eat fried onion rings and drink beer at the airport without a lecture from Kristine.

“Any big plans for you tonight?” her mother asked.

Chloe laughed. “Yes. Working.”

“Working” was an understatement. She’d probably be up all night, finishing the two papers due first thing in the morning. With a full course load, internship hours and a part-time job at a kid’s gym, pulling all-nighters had become as normal as brushing her teeth. A small sacrifice, considering Chloe was so close to finishing up her art therapy degree. Once she’d accomplished that, her real life could begin.

As the cab screamed to a stop at a traffic light, June stirred. “Ugh,” she groaned.

Chloe laughed, patting her knee. “You gonna make it?”

June sat up straight and looked around. She beckoned at a man standing at the side of the road, selling bottles of water. Fumbling in her purse, she gave him a twenty.

“Three waters.” Her voice was scratchy. “The rest is for you.”

The man’s face lit up and he passed three icy bottles of water into the cab. “Ah,” June said, taking a grateful sip. “I was wilting.”

“That’s what you get for being a party animal,” Chloe said.

After the wedding, the guests migrated to a bar in downtown Traverse City. Chloe had a vague recollection of June standing on a table, waving that bouquet like a magic wand and screaming, “Who wants to marry my granddaughter?”

The text alert chimed on Chloe’s phone. “Ooh, is it a boy?” June peered over her shoulder.

“No, it’s not a boy,” Chloe said, checking the message. “It’s Ben.” Turning her phone toward her grandmother, she watched June’s lips move as she read:
When are you home? I need you.
Those same lips pursed.

“I
need
you.” June tsked, turning the phone to Kristine. “Can you believe this?”

“Does it . . . mean anything?” Kristine’s voice was annoyingly hopeful.

Kristine was always acting like Chloe should fall in love with her best friend from elementary school, but seriously. It was never going to happen. With the exception of a drunken feel-up after their first beer, she and Ben had never crossed that line. Their physical contact was limited to arm punches, high fives and the occasional friendship hug and they were both perfectly happy to keep it that way.

“I don’t understand.” Kristine pulled a bag of peanuts out of her purse and slit them open. “Why don’t you like him?”

June gave a little sniff. “He draws pictures for a living. What type of man does that?”

“He’s a graphic artist, Grandma. Those pictures are actually designs.”

“And good ones,” Kristine said, nodding. “Ben made the sign for the store. And it’s beautiful.”

When Chloe went to college, Kristine surprised everyone by buying a travel bookstore. She wanted to do something with her time, since Chloe was gone and June had a life of her own. Chloe was proud of her mother, as what had started as a whim had become a passion.

“The sign
is
beautiful,” Chloe said, texting him back. “But Grandma’s just determined to hate him.”

“That’s not true.” June shook her head. “I simply said I question a man who draws pictures for a living. That’s not the type of man you want to marry.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t want to marry Ben. In fact, I don’t have time to date until I’m your age, which is pretty ancient, so I think we can all just relax until then.”

“Rubbish.” June took another swig of water. “Love is going to find you sooner than you think, Chloe. Some lucky man is going to woo you, whether you like it or not.”

“Woo-ooo?” Chloe drew out the word with as much disdain as possible. “I don’t even know what that is, but I can guarantee you I don’t have time for it.”

As though to prove it, Chloe yanked her drugstore-bought planner out of her bag. It was as dog-eared as a textbook. Every moment of her life was booked solid.

Kristine shook her head, eyeing the crazy schedule. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Caffeine.” Chloe dropped the calendar back into her bag. “Lots and lots of caffeine.”

“That’s not good for you,” Kristine recited as though compelled to mother. Instructions to take vitamins, eat vegetables and say no to drugs seemed to show up at the most random times.

“Mom, caffeine’s not going to kill me.” And according to WebMD, the slight eye twitch Chloe had developed would go away when and if she backed off the diet soda.

“Well, solitude might kill you,” June said. “A girl your age should be out there dating. It’s a fact of life. One of these days you’ll find somebody.”

Kristine laughed. “And June will be right there to tell him he’s not good enough for you.”

Chloe stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. When the cab finally screamed to a halt in front of her apartment, she pasted on a big smile. “It was fun,” she said brightly. “I’ll see you soon.”

After repeated hugs, kisses and promises to call the next day, Chloe stepped out of the cab and stared up at her apartment building. “Thank goodness,” she sighed. Even though she loved hanging out with her family, the way they thought they knew everything about everything got pretty annoying.

Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, Chloe took the steps two at a time. She owed this particular apartment to Ben, as he’d called her the second his neighbor decided to move. Sure, the lobby smelled like onions and the “working elevator” had been on vacation since she’d moved in, but one of the apartment’s many bonuses was the fact that she got to live next door to her best friend.

Chloe’s keys had barely made a jingle in the lock when his door flew open.

Ben was dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a ratty blue T-shirt. “Hey, neighbor.” He had a panicked look on his face. Freshly tanned from the weekend, he’d gotten a little too much sun on his nose. “I’ve been texting you. Happy birthday!” Desperately, he waved a bottle of champagne and two glasses at her.

“Uh . . .”
Birthday?
It was not her birthday and hadn’t been for at least three months.

A skinny arm snaked around Ben from behind, followed by the wispy body of a girl. She was wearing one of his button-up shirts and had a tumbleweed of blonde hair. Gauging by her carefully placed ringlet curls, the girl had an unnatural obsession with Taylor Swift.

“Hello,” the girl said, her voice icy.

Ben’s eyes widened. “Chloe, this is Sher . . . Shannon. She’s being super cool about the fact that I promised to celebrate your birthday with you. Right now.” The girl pinched Ben. “Unless . . .” His bright blue eyes looked tortured. “You want to reschedule? I’d really like to spend some more time with her.”

As a reward, the girl gripped Ben by the back of the head and pulled him in for a kiss. Ben’s hands flailed and the whole production reminded Chloe of a show she’d seen on the Discovery Channel,
about the mating habits of the praying mantis. Chloe hoped Ben would make it out alive. He opened one eye and gave Chloe a desperate look.

Alright, alright. She’d help him. Just like always.

Dropping her bag with a dramatic thud, Chloe said, “You can’t reschedule a birthday. As a . . .” She racked her brain, trying to think of the appropriate astrological sign. “. . .
Leo
, my lion-like personality is not responding well to that.”

The girl ended the kiss and glared at Chloe. “I thought that when you get old, you’re
supposed
to ignore your birthday.”

Old? Who was
old?

“How old do you think I am?” Chloe demanded.

“I don’t know.” The girl gave her a disdainful once-over. “Forty?”

Ben burst out laughing but tried to cover it with a hearty cough. “Birthday celebration coming up. Give me one minute.”

“It was so nice to meet you,” Chloe told the girl. “I’m sure I’ll see you a lot.” Leaning forward, she whispered, “Ben’s shy, so if he doesn’t call you, be sure to call him. Until he picks up.”

Giving him a triumphant smile, Chloe swept into her apartment. The door clicked shut behind her.

“Forty,” she said out loud. “Holy crap.” She was only twenty-five! Digging into her purse, she yanked out her mirror. Upon inspection, she saw a tiny line between her eyebrows and, okay, maybe she could afford to wear a little makeup or something, but come on. She certainly didn’t look
forty
.

A white streak of fur flew across the room, accompanied by the tiny jingle of a bell. Whiskers, her cat, pressed up against her legs, rubbing that fluffy fur against her like a warm blanket. Scooping her up, Chloe stared absently out the living room window.

The view of the rusty train tracks of the El was so incredibly bad that Chloe had framed it like a painting with dramatic white curtains. They added some romance to the distressed, country-white bookshelves packed with art books, magazines and plants Most Likely Not to Die If Not Watered. In the center of the room sat a turquoise couch and a coffee table that had seen its fair share of paint jobs.

“I might look forty,” Chloe told Whiskers, “but at least I’ve got a cool place to live.”

The door banged as Ben raced into her apartment. He slammed it shut, bolting it behind him. For good measure, he pulled the chain lock, too. “She’s gone.” He slid down to the floor. “Thank God she’s gone.” Dramatically, he buried his face in his hands.

“She’ll be back,” Chloe promised. “I told her to call until you pick up.”

“That’s a whole new level of cruel.” Ben’s eyes widened. “I’m going to have to change my number.” Hopping to his feet, he loped across the room and scooped Whiskers out of Chloe’s arms, dropping his face in her white fur. “Hey, Whisk. It’s good to see you alive. Somewhat shocking, considering I forgot to feed you.”

By the time Chloe moved to slug him, Ben was already in position to block. His long face was scrunched up in a grin. It seemed that, no matter what the situation, Ben was always smiling. Of course, if Chloe got laid as much as he did, she might smile that much, too.

“What did I miss?” She grabbed a Diet Dr Pepper from the fridge. The silver tab on the top wouldn’t budge. Ben took the can and popped it open. After taking a hearty sip, he handed it over.

“Not much,” he mused. “I hung out with Sally and that whole crew. They miss you terribly and are threatening to file a missing persons report.”

Chloe felt a stab of guilt. Sally was her best friend from undergrad. They hadn’t seen each other in ages. “I’ll call her.”

Whiskers scampered over to the treats cupboard and started to meow. Ben opened the cupboard and fed her a handful of bacon bits. “How was the wedding?” He sniffed the can of cat treats. Giving her a skeptical look, he said, “Do you really think these taste like bacon?”

“No.” Chloe sucked soda from the lip of the can. “And please don’t eat one just to see.” Ben set the container back in the cupboard. “The wedding was fine. Your typical waste of time.”

“A waste of time?” Ben feigned shock. “You mean, you didn’t do the Macarena? Make out with the bartender? Line up for the bouquet toss?”

“Actually . . .” Chloe hummed “Here Comes the Bride”
and dug into her overnight bag. After some grunts and groans, she found the rose and ribbon she’d swiped from the wedding bouquet and held it up. “Ta-dum!”

Ben raised his eyebrow. “You stole a boutonniere?”

“I caught the bouquet! Well, my mom, June and I did. June kept most of it, of course, but I managed to snag a flower.”

“Awesome.” Ben studied the rose for a moment, then grabbed that silver clip magnet from the fridge. He tied the white ribbon around the stem and, using the clip, hung it upside down to dry. “There.” He leaned against the counter. “It might stay in one piece until your post-apocalyptic wedding.”

“Thanks.” Ben was always creating art in places Chloe never would have even thought to look. “Hey, do you think . . .” She hesitated, taking another sip of soda. “Do you think I really look forty?”

Ben grinned. “No way. We’re the same age.”

Chloe and Ben had been friends since the first grade, after she stood up for him on the playground. The school bully cornered Ben against the back fence. Lifting his fist, Gerry Sutherland proclaimed Ben a toad-face and a dead man. Ben just removed his glasses and closed his eyes. Unable to witness such an incredible injustice—attacking a boy who wouldn’t fight back!—Chloe swooped in and whacked her backpack against Gerry’s head.