He sets the open ring box down beside me on the comforter, like maybe looking at the dazzling specimen will convince me.
A sick feeling of relief seeps into my sore muscles.Here’s something I can do to fix Mom’s situation.
It could be my last chance to help her move on. And when will I have an opening this clear again?
Mark Winterson’s still down on one knee, his absurdly handsome face turned toward me.
“And I’ve learned, in life—” He reaches for my hand and rubs a thumb along my palm. “You shouldn’t hesitate, once you’re sure.”
What does marriage even mean, with divorce rates as high as they are? I can go through with it and then immediately work on getting out of it.
You liked him well enough for a while, right? You can fold yourself up into this shape for a bit longer? Grit down, persevere, almost there, almost there—
My heart beats faster, and my head aches. I close my eyes and see Greg hiding under my desk, beside me on the swings, hugging me in my kitchen. I promised him: Just one more weekend. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I’m saying goodbye to him, if I do this. He’ll never forgive me.
But can I stand always wondering if this one decision is the reason Mom gets stuck at work forever? Can I live with myself if I knew I had the chance and didn’t take it?
“Ruby,” Mark Winterson says, squeezing my hand. “Are you all right?”
“Yes! Yes, my answer is yes,” I blurt in a fevered rush.
Mark Winterson grins, relieved, and throws his arms around me, hugging me tight, kissing me. He slides the ring onto my finger, and I feel nauseous.
“Fantastic,” he says, standing and brushing his hands together like he’s dusting them off.A job well done.“I have to take care of one more work thing. Our appointment at the chapel is at two-thirty. You should eat something.” He nods toward the room service cart, a silver domed lid sitting on a tray.
“And I got you a dress.” He retrieves that mysterious second garment bag and holds it up. “There’s a veil in here. And…”
He opens the closet and takes out a bouquet densely packed with pink and yellow blooms, and sets it down at the foot of the bed.
Wow, he really had this all planned. It’s kind of scary.
“Get dressed and wait for me on the casino floor downstairs? You can meditate at the slot machines,” he says with a crooked smile, taking out his wallet and handing me a few hundred-dollar bills like it’s nothing. “I’ll come get you.”
Chapter
51
After Mark Winterson leaves, I cry in the bathroom for a while. My head is so foggy and it hurts to think. I keep trying to examine the problem from all angles, but once I’ve turned it all the way over, I forget what was on the other side. I can’t hold the whole thing in my mind at once—Greg, the union, Mom’s ghost, GERBO, this giant ring on my finger.
Just do this one thing. It’s not that bad. Just grit through it, hold on, almost there, almost there!
Finally I get myself together and retrieve the dress. It’s stunning—gauzy and transparent across the shoulders, opaque from the bodice down, flowing elegant and satiny to the floor. And, of course, there’s a low-cut back.
He must be a back man,I think to myself as I turn around in front of the mirror.
The whole time I’m doing my makeup and hair, I can’t stop thinking about Greg—laughing next to me on the couch, holding me while I cried on the stoop, staring at me under the broken light in the copy room.
I want to message him—I want to call and hear his voice—but what could I possibly say that won’t make him hate me now?
I sweep my hair into a tight bun, shellac the whole thing with hairspray, and insert the comb of the veil into its base, flipping it back so it floats behind my head.
Mark Winterson even brought heels for me to wear with this.He really had it all planned out.But no one will see my feet anyway—and after last night, all my muscles are sore, from my brain down to my toes, so I slip on the sneakers I brought with me instead.
I take a photo of the ring on my finger for Mom, and a mirror selfie of myself in the dress, clutching the bouquet. My throat is tight as I tap out the message:
ruby.ocampo:
