Page 34 of Brain Damage

Clark and I are in a taxi cab headed downtown. As we navigate through the narrow streets of Chinatown at breakneck speed, Clark reaches out and takes my hand in his. He gives me a squeeze and I squeeze him back.

We skid to a stop at a red light, and I say a quiet prayer that we won’t get involved in a fatal (or even non-fatal) collision prior to reaching our destination. As the cab idles at the light, a homeless man approaches us, and without asking, starts wiping down the windshield.

“No!” the cabbie screams at the man. “No! I don’t want! Go away!”

The homeless man gives him a thumbs-up and keeps scrubbing. When the light changes back to green, the cabbie zooms off so quickly, the squeegee guy nearly falls on his ass. “Jesus,” Clark mutters under his breath.

“I know!” the cabbie says. “Can you believe these guys? No respect.” He glances back at us, taking in Clark’s dark suit and my off-white knee-length dress. “You two look all nice. You goin’ someplace special?”

“You could say that,” Clark says, winking at me.

You could definitely say that. In less than an hour, Clark and I will be married.

Married!

I can’t believe it either. Only eight months ago, it would have been unthinkable that I’d be in a cab zooming off to City Hall to my own wedding, but here we are. After Clark popped the question, there really wasn’t any point in waiting. We’re both closer to forty than we are to thirty.

Still, getting married to a guy who I’ve known less than a year doesn’t seem like a Charlotte McKenna kind of move. I’ve never been the sort of person who does things spur of the moment—if anything, I’m over-cautious. But then again, I don’t look like the Charlotte McKenna of a year ago either. I’ve definitely upped my game recently.

But I still can’t hold a candle to Clark. God, he’s gorgeous in his dark suit and tie. I thought the attraction would have faded by now, but it hasn’t. Not even a little bit. If it were appropriate, I’d jump him right here on the leather seats of this old cab that smells faintly of fast food and cigarettes.

In record time, the cabbie slows to a stop in front of the nondescript white building a stone’s throw away from the Brooklyn Bridge. When Clark asked me if I was okay with a small ceremony at City Hall, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. Unlike a lot of other women I know, I’ve never really been into weddings. Let me put it this way: I never wanted my parents to buy me the Bridal Barbie doll. I would have asked for the Doctor Barbie, but those didn’t exist when I was a kid. So I had to settle for slicing holes in my dolls’ extremities with a pair of scissors and “suturing” them up with needle and thread.

That’s not weird, right?

Anyway, I’m thrilled about the small ceremony. Today it’s going to be just Clark, me, and the judge. Well, and my mother.

Clark took care of getting the marriage license, and my mother will be our witness. I had hoped that Clark’s parents would come too, but apparently, they live in Michigan and he doesn’t get along with them. I only spoke to them on the phone once when they offered me a stiff congratulations. I couldn’t get a straight answer as to why Clark and his parents don’t get along. He’s really good at changing the subject. He might be better at it than sex.

Clark and I get out of the taxi, and I watch him smooth out his suit, and straighten out his tie. He doesn’t seem happy with the knot he’s made, so he pulls it open and redoes it. After he’s made the second knot, he frowns down at his chest.

“This doesn’t look right,” he complains.

“It looks fine,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Charlotte, can you fix it for me?”

I snort. “You think I know how to tie a tie?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You can sew up someone’s face but you can’t tie a tie?”

“They’re completely different skills.”

Clark rolls his eyes then unties his knot so he can redo it one more time. I look up the steps of the building and see my mother waiting by the entrance. She’s waving so enthusiastically, she might dislocate a shoulder. She literally could not possibly be happier that her only child is getting married.

“You okay?” I ask Clark as he continues to fiddle with his tie.

“Of course,” he mumbles.

“Are you sure?”

Clark sighs and his shoulders sag. For a second, I’m terrified he’s going to say he can’t go through with it. I mean, I would deal with it, but I can’t imagine having to break it to my mother. It could very well kill her.

“It’s just…” He shrugs a little sheepishly. “We’re getting married, you know? It’s kind of… a big deal.”

“Are you wondering if you made the right choice?” I ask.

“No,” he says, although he hesitates a beat before answering. “It’s just…”