Mia Like Crazy (14 page)

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 nothing 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 how 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…

A cloud descended over him again. He removed his hand and stood up. “There’s a lot to be sorry about
.
” He picked up our plates, disappeared into the kitchen, and, soon afterward retreated upstairs. I was left wondering if he’d been referring to our day together or his turbulent past, or something else entirely.

~

It was still pitch black outside when I was awakened by sounds from the room next door. Drew’s voice…upset? Angry? Was someone in the room with him? As I lay there listening, the talking was soon replaced by pacing. I got out of bed and tiptoed to his room. I was afraid to knock, thinking he might send me away before I even got a look at him.