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There I was, making it real when it really wasn’t.
Staying together was contingent on our feelings at the end of the month.
That thought was always in the back of my head. This might all just be for nothing in the end.
“Not to change the subject,” Gloria said, “but we’re limited on venues. Given it is December, availability is terrible and we’re on a tight time frame. We can either move the party to the spring or settle for something less than ideal. I can’t even get my event planner. She’s totally booked out until February.”
“Well,” I said, because I didn’t doubt she was right but I didn’t like either option. I didn’t want to commit to one over the other, so I drew the word out to buy some time. The wise thing to do would be to just proceed with a simple party, maybe even at Michael’s flat, or Gloria and Bud’s. Because the point really wasn’t the party, it was what it represented—legitimacy for our engagement. It demonstrated our marriage displayed premeditation as opposed to an impulse for a visa.
Sort of like murder. Did it show intent or impulse?
Not that I was going to describe my engagement in murder terms. At least not to anyone but Michael. He might be amused by my thought process. Or not.
“Should we just have it at the flat?” I asked. It was a fake engagement party. I didn’t need to book out The Plaza. “I’d rather not wait.”
Gloria seemed as thrilled about the idea as I felt. “It is Michael’s second marriage.”
Now, hang on. I didn’t think that was fair. Just because he’d been married before didn’t mean I should get stiffed on quality.
Then I remembered it was fake anyway.
“We can just put the emphasis on catering,” I said. “Everyone cares more about the food and the booze than the venue, right?”
“I wouldn’t say that’s entirely accurate but at least with it being the holidays we can go all out with the décor. Do you have a tree? I know Michael never has one and you just moved in.”
“I have a tree. I fully decorated the flat. It was my first chance to go all out in years. My place was really small, so I went crazy at Michael’s.” Not to pat myself on the back or anything. “But we could use some rental tables and chairs or everyone will be standing the entire time.” I pulled out my phone to make notes. “We should get the invites out tomorrow or the day after.”
“I want paper. You can send electronic ‘save the date ones’ if you’d like, but thrown together or not, I want this to be a real engagement party,” Gloria said.
Funny enough, so did I.
* * *
When I got home I pulled dried sage out of my purse. I’d popped into a crystals and herb shop around the corner and gotten a bunch. I wasn’t sure I believed in ghosts, but Becca felt ominous suddenly after my chat with Gloria. I didn’t want to walk into the closet and find my entire wardrobe slashed in tatters.
I flicked on a lighter and ran it under the sage brush. It caught fire so I blew it out and let the smoke rise. I waved it around pretty frantically for maximum effect.
Okay, so maybe I did believe in ghosts. Or at the very least crazy wives hidden away that were supposed to be dead, like in the novel Jane Eyre. Oh my God, what if Becca wasn’t dead?
“You’re secretly a goth, aren’t you?” Michael asked. “That’s what you needed to reveal to me.”
I jumped. “How do you do that? I never hear you come home! I could be burglarized before I even knew what hit me.”
“How could you be robbed in our own apartment with a doorman and a key code entry?”
“I don’t know. But criminals always find a way.” I tried to nonchalantly put my hand on my hip as if the sage were an accessory. Only it was still burning, so a waft of smoke plumed up from my side. It rose into my nose and I resisted the urge to cough. I failed, but I kept my mouth clamped shut, so my cheeks ballooned out like a chipmunk. Finally, I gave in and burst out with a smoky cough.
Michael entered the closet and gave me a kiss. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “What the fuck are you doing?” in a very calm voice.
I turned to the left and breathed in some fresh air. “Saging the closet. It gets rid of old energy.”
His eyebrows went up. “Jesus, we really need to move, don’t we?”
“Sage is cheaper than moving.”
“What brought this on?”
“Lunch with your mother.”
