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Chapter1
Hazel
Ialways envisioned my wedding day… differently.
Granted, I was fairly certain I would nevergetmarried. So right away, things were not going according to plan. But if I did, I would do it right. Not because I was a particularly traditional person, but because I wanted to experience every special moment.
I imagined laughter and happy tears and an overabundance of hugs from friends. I did not imagine crippling nausea. However, that may have had more to do with my inflamed gallbladder than my impending nuptials.
Regardless, this wasnotthe happiest or most romantic day of my life.
The strangest? Absolutely.
The most confusing? Without a doubt.
I would deny it with my last breath, but deep down, I wanted a wedding. More so than the ceremony, I wanted the dress and the flowers and cake. And the party. I did enjoy a good party.
Growing up the way I had, poor and with a mother who drifted in and out of my life, meant there hadn’t been many parties. No birthdays, no family dinners, no celebrations. Not of my own, at least.
Though I’d told myself I didn’t need it, and I was doing just fine without it, that desire remained. The longing to have a special moment that was just for me and my groom. The first dance, cutting the cake, a dress fitting with my best friend where we laughed and cried and drank champagne.
I secretly wanted it all.
But instead, I got a municipal building in Bangor, Maine, on a chilly Tuesday morning.
I got stained drop-ceiling tiles and industrial carpet instead of votive candles and chandeliers.
As I stood in the reception area, waiting for them to call our names, my stomach churned.
Relationships had never been on my to-do list. And I was a hell of a list maker. But I had learned early on that men were nothing but trouble. So I’d had fun. I dated. I slept around a bit in my early twenties. And I was content with that.
My mom was a young college student when she discovered she was pregnant. She dropped out of school, and in no time at all, she had two kids under two and was stuck in a trailer park in Northern Maine while my dad disappeared on benders for weeks at a time.
When I was really little, before she started using, she would tuck me in at night and make me promise to go to college and get a good education and a good job. She made me promise that I wouldn’t give up my dreams for anyone.
And every night, I would look into my mom’s haunting gray eyes and swear it.
Though none of that meant I was a nun.
Dates weren’t hard to come by in the city. Especially in academia. In data science, the men outnumbered the women five to one.
I dated casually, had flings now and again, and some one-night stands. I liked sex, and I was pretty comfortable with my body. But I always used protection and never let feelings get involved.
Because I had come too far to get derailed now. That doctorate was so close.
To most, it was nothing more than a couple of letters added to the end of my name and a piece of paper. But to me, it meant everything. That diploma would signify that I’d done the most I could for my career.
And in seeking that degree, I had learned valuable skills.
I wasn’t a waste.
I wouldn’t have to rely on welfare like my mom.
I wouldn’t have to accept charity ever again.
Those letters meant I had taken our shitty family history and turned it around.
I needed it. And I wouldn’t let anything stand in my way.
