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Heather burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t even buy a car for someone I do love,” she said, throwing her head back in laughter. “I mean, come on, Beth! You’re being silly!”
But I couldn’t shake the idea that Michael didn’t really love me. As time went on, I tried to ignore those feelings. He was good to me – whenever I needed something, he took care of it immediately and never asked me to pay him back. In fact, the few times I tried, he refused to accept the money. He said it was his priority to treat me right. I wished I could have told him that all the money in the world didn’t matter…I just wanted him to pick me up in his arms and give me a big kiss and tell me that I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
That wouldn’t happen, though. Michael was too pragmatic. And until we’d gotten together, I’d thought of myself as the same way.
Now it was hard to believe that I was shopping for our honeymoon. I looked at lingerie with Heather for another twenty minutes, finally picking a plain cotton chemise that was sheer at the front. I thought it was sexy, in kind of a classic way, even if Heather called it boring. At least it’s comfortable, I thought. And I won’t feel like a circus performer wearing it.
Heather sighed. “You done shopping?”
I nodded.
“But that’s the only thing you got,” she said, pointing down at the white bag. I cringed. It was labeled ‘Bride’ in fancy, flowing font. I’d asked for the regular bag, but the sales associate had scowled at me and I’d decided that I was too tired to try fighting this obviously useless battle.
“I didn’t want anything else,” I said flatly.
Heather sighed, blowing her bangs sky-high into the air. “You want frozen yogurt?”
I nodded happily. “Always,” I said. “I’m starving.”
“You’re going to need to stop eating everything in sight if you want to fit into your gown,” Heather said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t even gotten it in yet,” I said. “I think they could probably let out the seams.”
“Oh my god, you’re getting married like, so soon,” Heather said. “Don’t you care? Aren’t you excited?”
I shrugged. “I think I just have cold feet,” I said softly. “It all seems like it’s happening in a dream, or like someone else is in control of my body and I’m just going through the motions.”
Heather squealed in excitement. “Just wait,” she said, bubbly and happy. “You’re going to be one of the hottest socialites in New York!”
“As if,” I said. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be doing anything like that.”
“But you have to,” Heather protested. “Who’s going to go with Michael to charity dinners? Things like that? How are you going to stay inside when you’re expected everywhere?”
I sighed. “I’ll just hire a proxy,” I said. “I don’t really know what else to do.”
Heather narrowed her eyes. “You’re the strangest bride I ever saw,” she said thoughtfully. “You sure you want this?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really have a choice,” I said. “Do I?”
Heather wrinkled her nose. “The wedding is two months away,” she said slowly. “So no, not really.”
I gave her a dark look. “That’s exactly what I thought.”
Chapter Three
Beth
When I left the mall, my belly was full of frozen yogurt and my head was full of doubts. I’d thrown the bag containing the fateful lingerie into the backseat, like it was a piece of trash, but even that didn’t help me feel better. I had no idea what I was going to do – wasn’t it normal to feel like this?
Suddenly, I wished I had a mother I could call and ask for advice. My mom had died when I was a little kid. She’d gotten pneumonia and had an allergic reaction to the medication. It had been horrible and unexpected. My dad had mourned her for years, but I was never allowed to talk about her. Looking back, I knew that couldn’t have been healthy. But what was I supposed to do? Walk up to my dad and tell him that I needed help?
I talked to my
mom in my head all the time, even though I wasn’t sure she was listening. When I’d been younger, I’d been a big believer in God and the afterlife. But now I wasn’t so sure. Sometimes, life just seemed so unfair, like some kind of horrible punishment meant only to affect those who deserved it the least. My dad had been a perfect example of someone who suffered without ever deserving it – he’d been a selfless, kind man. When he’d remarried, eight years after my mother passed, his wife had cheated on him with someone younger and tried to divorce him and rob him blind not a year after the wedding. Dad had won the court case, but his lawyer had taken his retirement savings. Now, at fifty-two, he worked long weeks in the hopes of making enough money to retire by seventy-five.
It broke my heart. And it also made me feel like I couldn’t talk to Dad about anything – I had the feeling that because he worked so hard, all of the problems I had by comparison weren’t really anything to sneeze at. I felt like if I called him and said, Daddy, I’m really struggling, he probably wouldn’t even know what to say. Dad and I were kind of close, especially for an adult woman and her father, but we’d never been comfortable talking about intimacy of relationships. He approved of Michael, of course, because Michael was rich and never mistreated me.
So I had no idea how to begin talking about my relationship. Daddy would probably just tell me to button up and deal with it – he’d tell some anecdote about not being sure about my mother before their wedding, probably, but knowing that everything would be okay in the end. Dad was a big saying of things like that – he wasn’t very confrontational, and he liked to avoid as many problems as possible.
