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I told my mom about the proposal and I thought she was crying on the other end of the line.
“Mom, you know this was just for the money, right? And that you hate weddings and all that go with them?” My parents were deeply in love, but didn’t show it the way a lot of people did. I’d grown up used to it, but had learned that other people’s parents didn’t have pretend fights just for fun and then burst out laughing when neither of them could keep a straight face.
“I know,” she said, and I heard a sound like she was blowing her nose. “I’m just so happy for both of you. I know it’s not real, but you’re my girls and you’re taking care of each other. What more could a mother ask for?”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, but now I was getting emotional.
“You’re going to send us pictures, right?” she said.
“I don’t know. If someone takes some. This whole thing is turning into a big production. I hope it doesn’t get out of hand. I just want to get it done. Did you talk to the financial guy?” My mom had offered to make the first contact with the financial planner who was in charge of paying out the account. I wondered how many other clients he had with stipulations like mine.
“Yeah, he was out, but I left a message with his assistant. I’ll deal with it for you. That’s my job.” I was relieved, because all that money stuff made me so anxious that my brain literally shut down and I couldn’t think when people started talking about things like annuities and IRAs.
“Thank you so much. That’s a lot.”
“I know. Being an adult is hard sometimes, isn’t it?” Now I felt like I was going to cry for a different reason.
“And sometimes you still need your mom,” I said, choking up a little.
“Oh, baby. You need to come and see us some more. Get on a bus, we’ll pick you up at the station.” I hadn’t been back to see them in a while, and I definitely had guilt about it.
“I’ll bring Cara after we get married. We can have a fake reception at the house.” My mom made a little sound of glee.
“I’m so glad you said that. I was dying to ask if we could do something. We could do it in the barn and set up tables and have a cake and –”
“Whoa, Mom.” I had to cut her off. “We’re not going to need a cake and all that. This is a fake wedding, right? Fake.” I was probably going to get tired of telling my parents this wasn’t real.
“Oh, I know. But I still think we should have cake. Every special occasion deserves cake.” She knew how to make me cave.
“I know you’re right. Okay, there can be cake.”
“And maybe some pretty lights and decorations?” This was going to be a disaster.
“You’re pushing it, Mom. Let me talk to Cara and see what she wants to do. She might not want to do anything but having lasagna with the family.” My parents always made lasagna on Friday nights and Cara had spent more of those nights with my family than her own. She could actually make my mother’s recipe better than I could. I had never been much of a cook, but she had a gift for it.
“Fine, fine. Talk to your fiancée.” I could tell she was smiling.
Technically, Cara was my fiancée, so I wasn’t going to argue with her. I also kind of liked hearing Cara referred to as my fiancée. No idea why. It just sounded good.
“I will,” I said and then she put me on with Dad, who wanted to build us both bookshelves until I told him that we weren’t living together, and neither of our apartments was big enough for bookshelves. He was grumpy about that and downgraded his ideas to making us book ends.
At last I got off the phone with him and called Cara.
“My dad wants to make us bookshelves and my mom wants to throw us a reception, how are you?” I said in a rush.
“Um, not great. My landlord says that his son is coming back to live with him and he wants my apartment for his son to live in, so he’s giving me some time to find a new place, but not much.”
“Wait, what? He’s kicking you out?” She made a sound that was almost a sob.
“I’m on a month-to-month lease. So he can.” Wow. That was shitty.
