The Marriage Contract (33 page)

              I laughed. I laughed so loudly, my voice broke, and out, came a toad like croak. I stared wildly at him, feeling the blood in my veins simmer to a hot boil, as I breathed evenly.

              “You and James will always be nothing but dirty, lying, cheaters.” I spoke slowly, as a small smile spread over my lips. “You know why? Because it’s in your blood.”

              My heart thundered in my chest, exploding into pieces, as I stared angrily at him, hoping to destroy him just as James had destroyed me. I was so angry that I didn’t notice the hurt in his eyes- the shade of disappointment glowering over his face, as he turned, taking slow steps towards the garage door.

              I stood, my eyes roaming the ground, suddenly confused. It was then, in the blistering haze of my fury, that I realized my mistake.

              Richard stood at the end of the garage, bending down to pull the tin door up, his hand curled over the bottom. A peak of sunshine streamed through the ground, as I ran towards him, crouching down, and placing my palm over his.

              “Wait…I’m sorry I said that,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have brought your mom into it, and she has nothing at all to do with any of this. I was just…angry. I’m sorry, Richard. I really am. I know this is sudden, but…I have a plan. I just thought of it. But I need you’re cooperation. Can you help me?”

              I sat on the ground, looking up at him, feeling both sorry, and a little afraid. My knees felt wobbly, as Richard squeezed his palm over mine, pushing the garage door down. He sat on the ground, facing me- his eyes filled with a kind of serenity.

              “I can,” he replied, inching his face towards me. “What’s the plan?”

              I sighed. “It’s too long to say now, so I’ll have to tell you tonight. But basically, to keep the long details short…be good to my family.”

              He thought about this, his eyes focused on my shoulder, before nodding.

              “I can do that,” he said. “But I have something I wanna ask you.”

              “What is it?”

              “Is everything over between you and James?”

              I hesitated, my heart beginning to ache.

“Yes.” 

**

              Richard and I sat at the center of a plum, woolen couch, staring at my grandparents, Uncle Jeffrey, and Aunt Lucy, who sat on the long couch opposite us. Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Lucy’s ten-year- old daughter, Charlene, sat Indian style on the ground, blinking her emerald eyes at us, observing us like we were the new attraction at a zoo.

              Grandfather and Grandmother Web, sat at the center of the long, pale yellow couch- their eyes staring sternly from Richard to me. Grandma Daisy, whose pearl grey hair, rested in a clip at the back of her head, frowned. Her grey cardigan, that she’d gotten last Christmas from me, rested like a blanket over her frail chest, as she crossed her short, thin legs, draped in an ankle length blue skirt.

              “We’d like an explanation,” she said. “You just went and married this man nearly a month ago, and how do we find out? Through the papers! The whole towns been talkin’ bout it—“

              “Nonsense,” said Grandpa Ron. “The town mentioned her sudden marriage once or twice or maybe a few times, but that’s it. Listen here, Dorothy. We’re all upset and deeply hurt. You know how much your grandmother and I wanted to see you go down that aisle. Why in the world did you have to elope?—“

              Aunt Lucy scoffed, throwing her golden brown locks over her shoulder.

              “That’s not the only problem,” she snapped. “Dory, you didn’t call any of us after that marriage shenanigan! Your picture was in the gossip page of a newspaper, that’s how Molly found out, and that’s also how the whole town found out! It’s like you stopped caring about us after you moved to the big city! What, are we not important enough for you to invite us to your wedding? Oh, I’m sorry. It wasn’t really a wedding was it? Honestly, I really didn’t expect this from you!—“

              “Quit nagging her, Rosy,” said Uncle Jeffrey. “The girl’s feeling guilty enough as it is. Let’s all just hear her out first.”

              All eyes were on Richard and I, who sat so close to each other, our thighs touched. Before I spoke, explaining how and why we got married, my eyes took in the living room that still looked the same as it did two years ago.

              A black leather love seat, sat near the edge of the couch I rested on, the handles covered in a quilted white blanket. My bare toed seeped into an ornate, brown carpet, as a square wooden coffee table, built by Uncle Jeffrey, sat at the center, in between both couches. The walls were splashed with lime green, as a painting of a glass vase filled with blue roses, plastered against the wall.

              Everything was as I remembered it; warm.

              “It was all very sudden,” I began. “I worked as a maid at his hotel, and we kind of happened to fall in love. Marriage…well, that wasn’t planned at all. He took me to a church one day, and asked me to marry him. I said yes. I should have informed you all, because you’re the people that matter most to me. You’ve been there for me. I made a mistake and…I’m asking for your forgiveness.”

              I spoke carefully, choosing every word as though it were the final pieces to a very important puzzle.

              Grandpa and Grandma’s eyes warmed with kindness, as they looked at each other, then at me, smiling kindly. Uncle Jeffrey gave me a thumbs up, and his wife, Aunt Lucy, pursed her lips, but nodded, nonetheless.

              Everything was going perfectly.

              That is until Richard got down on his knees, bowing his head, making everyone, including me, gasp.

              What the hell was he doing?

              As I stared at the back of Richard’s head, horrified that he was bowing in a ritual style towards my family, he made it worse, by crying.

              Oh, God.

              I tilted my head, watching as tears dripped past his cheeks, falling into the denim of his jeans, as he began to sob uncontrollably.

              “I’m…I’m so sorry!” he cried. “This is…this is all m-m-m-m-my fault! Please, please, please, please forgive me!”

              This can’t be real. What in the world was he doing?

              Uncle Jeffrey gave me a worried look, as if to say, ‘what the hell is wrong with this guy?’ I returned his look, shaking my head, and telepathically replying, ‘I’m just as lost as you are’.

              My grandparent’s exchanged a worried glance, before staring sadly at my pretend husband, who was now softly crying.

              “It’s…it’s alright,” said Grandpa awkwardly. “We all forgive you. Now just…stop that—“

              “Ron!” Grandma scolded, slapping Grandpa lightly on the shoulder. “You can’t just tell a person to stop crying when they’re sad! That’s very insensitive of you. Now, son, look at me. It’s ok.”

              Richard slowly lifted his head, staring at Grandma with watery eyes.

              “We forgive you,” she whispered. “Just promise to keep our Dory happy. That’s all we want.”

              My jaw hung over my mouth, as I continued to gape at the back of his head, not believing what he’d just done. I always knew he was a good liar, but didn’t think he was a good actor as well. If my life was a movie, he’d probably win an Oscar for that sobbing performance.

              Everyone was fooled.

**

              Richard and I were to share my bedroom for the night, as per Grandma’s orders.

              I stood awkwardly against my door, staring at Richard, who sat on the corner of my bed, looking around my small room. His bare feet pressed against the woolen pink carpet, his hands resting on either side of the bed. He stared at the frame of me and my parents at the drawer beside my blue pillow, his index grazing over the side of the frame. The walls, which had listened to my worries, and dreams, and cries, nearly all my life, were painted a faint cream. Posters of bands I’d admired hung on the walls, as a small, square vanity rested against the edge of the wall beside my closet.

              “I like it here,” he said. “You’re lucky. Not everyone lives in such luxury.”

              I frowned. “I’m sure this room is smaller than your bathroom.”

              He laughed, running a hand through his sandy brown locks.

              “True,” he said. “But size doesn’t equal luxury. Take caviar for example. It comes in ridiculously small portions, but people pay thousands just for one bite. You know why?”

              “Why?”

              There was a silence, as he looked around my room once more, his eyes taking on a faraway look. For a moment, I wondered what he was pondering about, but when his gaze locked on mine, I looked away.

              He stood, his eyes catching mine, as he took slow steps towards me. I should have moved then, but I didn’t, as my lashes lifted to meet his gaze. Richard towered over me, the ends of his mouth tilted upwards, to a light smile.

              “The rarest things in life, are defined as luxury,” he whispered, his head dipping towards me. “Your room is simple, but it’s this simplicity, that makes it rare. Your happiness is something I envy. If I could give away all my money to have the kind of family you grew up with, to live in the home you lived in, I wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Not even for a moment.”

              I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

              When we broke apart, an air of calm flew by, and unanimously, we exhaled. Richard turned, heading back to the bed. Though I was about to open the closet, finding pajamas to sleep in, I noticed something silver fall from his pocket, to the ground. He sat on the bed, oblivious to the small, heart shaped object resting over the carpet, a few feet away from him.

              While he took out his phone from his pocket, I walked towards the shiny locket, bending over to pick it up.

              Whoa.

              It was the prettiest piece of jewelry I’d ever seen. The heart shaped locket, about the size of a quarter, had a tiny heart shaped ruby at the center. When I picked it up, I gasped, watching as it popped open, worried that I had somehow damaged it.

              While I attempted to hurriedly close it, I stopped, noticing a photograph pressed within the wall of the locket. Gently, I opened it, my eyes widening at the picture of a smiling woman.

              She was lovely.

              Her sleek black curls, rested over her shoulder, as she smiled brightly, her heart shaped face, glowing. Her fair complexion, glistened, as the faint blush of her lips, matched the shade of her V-neck dress. 

              “Hey, don’t touch that!” Richard’s voice snapped through my musings, as he snatched the locket from my palms, snapping it closed, and shoving it into his pocket.

              I stood. “I’m sorry. It fell, and I was just picking it up. But…Who is she?”

              “Don’t worry about it.” There was a slight edge to his voice.

              “I’m not worrying,” I said. “I’m just curious—“

              “Don’t be! Just mind your own damned business, alright?”

              “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I’m sorry if I did something that upset you, but can you just tell me what the issue is—“

              He pushed past me, swinging the door open. Without answering, he walked out, leaving me standing there, confused.

Chapter Twenty Two

              The layers of spaghetti, dangled off the large serving spoon, its silver hue glinting off the ceiling bulb, as Aunt Lucy placed a handful on Richard’s plate. I glanced at him, noticing his eyes roam distastefully over the swirly food, before planting an artificial smile. His chocolate brown gaze met Aunt Lucy’s, giving her a pleasant grin.

              She blushed.

              “This looks delicious,” he said. “Thank you.”

              “Eat till’ your gut explodes!” said Grandpa Ron, sitting across from him. “It’s your first dinner at the Web house hold, boy. Don’t hold back. Just chug it all in—“

              “Ron, watch your language,” Grandma scolded. “Do you like spaghetti, dear? I made it myself.”

              Uncle Jeffrey, who sat at the corner of the rectangular, wooden table, shot Richard a winning grin. His red curls were clipped in the back of his head, his bright green eyes lit with mirth, as he propped both elbows on the table.

              “Now, what kind of question is that, mama?” Uncle Jeffrey teased. “Every man loves spaghetti! Isn’t that right?—“