That Wedding (62 page)

And quite honestly, I'm pretty sure it's a deal breaker for the whole relationship.

But I don't say that. A few tears leak out of the corner of my eyes, but I quickly brush them away.

He gets a resigned look on his face and gets up. "Well, I disagree with you. You're right, Phillip is one of the reasons we hired you, but not the only reason."

He grabs a bunch of rolled up plans that were standing in the corner next to his credenza, takes them to his conference table, and unrolls them. "Come look at these. I've built this business from the ground floor up. It's been my dream to have a facility that's exactly how I want it."

I flip through them quickly and see that none of these plans look like Mr. Mac. I don't know if that makes sense because how could a building look like a person? But I suppose it's kinda like when you walk into someone's house, how they have it decorated, the colors that they've chosen, look like them.

Mr. Mac is sort of a style contradiction. He loves rich classic things. A bottle of good wine. A nice cigar. You could picture him sitting in an old library, surrounded by rich dark colors and lots of leather bound books. But at the same time, he's still young (I mean, for an old guy) and kinda hip. His clothes are expensive, but they always have a flair to them. He drives a luxury brand, but the model is a sleek black sports car.

I look at the drawings other people have done and can see why he hasn't built any of these buildings. They just aren't him.

"It looks like you spent a lot of money on plans. Why haven't you used any of these?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because they all suck," I say a little too bluntly.

"Exactly. That's one thing I love about you, JJ. You're just like your dad was. You always cut to the chase and tell us exactly what you're thinking. So why do you think they all suck?"

"Well, I probably shouldn't have said that. It's not really that they suck, they just, they don't look like you, like something you would like."

"And that's exactly why I haven't. I don't like any of them. It's frustrating to me because I have a vision of how I want it to be, but I can't explain it, evidently, because none of these are it."

"I can see that, like this one is way too modern for you. And this one they went the totally opposite direction and made it like too boring and stuffy."

"So can I see some of your ideas?"

I want to show him my favorite idea. The building I drew is modern, but it has architectural elements that are classic. The building that feels like my wedding dress. Timeless. I want to show him the pictures I sketched of the inside. The rich cherry wood walls that have insets of stainless steel that give it a sleek modern edge. The interior colors that are dark and rich, like a mens' club. The entry lounge with its oversized contemporary wingback chairs covered in a charcoal pinstripe velvet. The artwork that's modern with bright, rich colors. I had no idea if he would like it, but at the time, it felt right.

Just like things with Phillip used to feel right.

I can't stay here any longer. I'm going to cry. I lay my favorites on his table and run out the door. I run into our office. I need to compose myself before I go running out of the building like an idiot.

I lean my back against the closed door. When I open my eyes, I realize I'm not alone. Phillip's sitting at his desk.

"Princess, why did you quit? What's this really about? I saw our questionnaires in your bag. Is that why you're so upset?"

"You went through my bag?" That should piss me off, but I feel like I have no emotions. I feel empty because I know there's nothing else I can do.

"No, they were sitting on top, wadded up. I saw my handwriting."

I sigh, look at my adorable Phillip, and tell him the sad truth. "Phillip, we're not gonna make it. We failed couple's counseling. We handle our conflicts with sex. We don't agree on money. I'm sorry, but I totally tricked you into buying the house. I planted seeds, got Mr. Diamond to gift us the money, and I tricked you. I have a sucky past. There's baggage there that even you don't know about. I pout to get my way. I probably do have abandonment issues. And I read our questionnaires, Phillip. We don't agree on anything. And really, I probably could've gotten through that all. I could've pretended we were gonna be okay. But you didn't rescue me from the spider, I found out I was a pity hire, and we don't have a song." I take the ring off my finger and gently lay it on his desk. "I hope we can stay friends."

I run to my car, get in, and drive away.

I end up at our old elementary school. I sit in the car and stare at the swings.

I have that same sort of numb feeling I had after my parents died.

Probably because that's what just happened.

Our relationship died.

Could it be revived? Could they shock my heart? Will it ever work again? Or is it fatal, terminal?

It must have been fatal because I didn't let Phillip try to resuscitate us.

Really, I'm not even sure what all I'm thinking.

Maybe I should drive to Kansas City, talk to Lori. Have her hug me and tell me I'm going to be okay. Break out the chocolate ice cream. And wine. Large amounts of wine. Or margaritas.

Shit. Speaking of margaritas, I'm gonna have to return my shower gifts. Most of them I haven't unboxed yet, but I've already used the Margaritaville blender twice.

All of a sudden, the blender seems so important.

If I give it back, it will all be real.

I'm gonna say it now. I hate when people say this because it seems so depressing, but here it is. Fuck my life.

Maybe it was just a matter of time.

Maybe I wasn't supposed to be happy.

It's like someone's played a cruel trick on me.

Give her a taste of real happiness, let her know what it feels like, and then snatch it all away.

Or maybe I'm an idiot, and he wasn't the right guy, wasn't the one. In that case, maybe I should be grateful that this all happened now, before we were married, before we had kids.

But it doesn't feel that way.

I mean the whole wedding, the venue, the way it fell into place. I really felt like it was a good sign, that I was finally, for once in my life, choosing the right path, the right guy, my prince, my happily ever after.

But I'm thinking fairy tales are bullshit right about now. They should really make fairytales more realistic.

Here's what I'm gonna do. I'll move to California and start a new life. I'll rewrite fairytales. I'll make a fairytale reality show. A behind the castle look at Cinderella and Prince Charming's lives. I think we'd all take wicked pleasure in seeing Cinderella scream,
Asshole
, at Charming, and then in a fit of rage, chuck her glass slipper at his head. Hopefully, it was made from like bulletproof glass, so it did not shatter and rain down glass on Charming's head and like disfigure him or anything. Oh, but if it did, we could change it to a Beauty and the Beast sort of thing.

Until now, nothing like that has ever happened between me and Phillip, but I did hear recently about a couple I know *cough, Katie and Eric* that were having a bridal shower. She had cleaned her house for three days straight because she wanted everything perfect. And after totally getting all the food, decorations, and games ready, she walked in their sparkling and spotlessly clean bathroom three minutes before the guests were due to arrive to take a quick pee, only to discover her prince charming's dirty underwear lying on the floor. She may or may not have thrown those dirty underwear at his head and yelled a few obscenities. She also said that was the last straw. That he didn't respect her.

What about the dude who wrote all the fairytales? Imagine being his wife. I'd be willing to bet she chucked a frying pan or two at him when he was sitting there day after day writing about love and little pigs, but he hadn't taken the trash out when she asked for three days in a row.

Maybe fairytales don't exist.

Really, I probably couldn't write the show anyway because I wouldn't know the ending.

What would happen after she chucked the shoe at Charming?

Would he catch it, laugh at her, make her smile, then lead her into the bedroom?

Would they have hot makeup sex?

Or what would happen if her and Charming failed couple's counseling and didn't have a song? What would Charming do after she set the shoe on the desk and ran out of the castle?

What would she do next?

Would she go back and live with the wicked stepsisters, be miserable, and live with mice and cats?

Would she end up marrying the guy that had guarded their castle and always had a crush on her?

Or would she move away from Neverland, no wait, that was Peter Pan, well that's it. Maybe she could move to Neverland and make Peter grow up.

And what would Charming do?

Would he go after her?

Would he try to get her back?

Would he have the birds spell out
I Love You
in the sky?

I have no idea.

What I really wanna do is call Phillip. He's the person I always run to when I have a problem, or need support, or help.

But I can't go to him about this.

I think about calling Danny. I adore Danny, I really do, but Danny is a fixer. It's like he's in a football huddle, and he's trying to get around the defense. He'd make me tell him the problem, and then he'd figure out a way to fix it. He'd make me review the
play by play
. We'd
break it down
. We'd figure out what went wrong. He'd form a
game plan
for what to do next. He'd strategize about the best way for me to handle the problem, so that I could overcome it and achieve my goal.

If I wanted to fix it, I went to Danny.

If I wanted support, love, hugs, and feel sorry for me, I went to Phillip.

Which means, I always went to Phillip first.

It's starting to get dark. The school kids are long gone. I realize I've been sitting here for hours. I get out of my car, walk over, and sit on the swings.

I look down at the swing on my charm bracelet.

The bracelet that's the story of our lives.

The story that's over.

At the end of this story, it just says, THE END.

There is no,
And they lived happily ever after
.

The bracelet suddenly feels very heavy on my wrist. Like it's trying to strangle me.

I have to get it off.

I slide open the clasp, take it off, hook it to the swing, and then go back to my car.

I'm not sure if I knew where I was going when I left the school, but I find myself at the entrance to the cemetery.

I haven't been here since the funeral, but I know exactly where to go. The spot my parents are buried is burned forever in my mind.

I get out of the car, trudge through the snow, and stand in front of it.

I read the headstone that Phillip and I picked out, but I never came to see.

Beloved husband and father, Paul Michael Reynolds.

Beloved wife and mother, Veronica James Reynolds.

I drop down into the snow and cry. I cry all the tears I've been pushing back inside me since they died.