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"I'll start the clock on this therapy session," Sammurmured.
"First off, fuck you." I pointed at Sam. "Second, Andy didn't want to go. Her mother takes holidays extremely seriously, and Andy has no patience for being observant on occasion," I said. "But we went, smiling and nodding and keeping the comments about all of that to ourselves. Then, on the first night of Hanukkah, we're enjoying brisket and latkes and the whole bit, and Andy's stepfather says he and her mother have anannouncement."
"I assume they weren't getting a puppy," Sammused.
"Not a puppy." I shook my head. "They're getting adivorce."
"Oh, shit," Mattmurmured.
"And that was a bombshell best dropped over dinner?" Sam asked. "Tiel's family is nuttier than a bag of trail mix, but that's prettybold."
"Exactly. Thank you," I replied. "As if the announcement wasn't adequate, Andy's mom goes on to take down the entire institution of marriage. It's a construct of patriarchal oppression intended to controlwomen."
"To be honest," Matt interrupted, "that was my thought process when gettingmarried."
"I had the same thought," Sam added. "Turns out it doesn't work thatway."
I spared them an irritated glare. "She said marriage is equivalent to indentured servitude. Humans aren't meant formonogamy—"
"So, we can assume she's the cheater," Samquipped.
"I don't think so, but I don't know much of anything," I replied. "I kept refilling the wine glasses and listening while she repeatedly told my fiancée that she should never get married. That it was the biggest regret of her life, and she didn't want the same fate for herdaughter."
"While the stepfather and current husband sat there?" Samasked.
"Who do you think was drinking all the wine?" Iasked.
"That's fantastic," Matt said, gesturing to the waiter for another round. "That is just fuckingfantastic."
"Pretty much." I downed my beer. "We left the next morning and talked about the North End project she's working on with Riley the entire way home. We haven't discussed anything on the topic of weddings or marriage sincethen."
"I hate to be contrary," Matt started, "but I don't think you were discussing anything on the topic of weddings or marriagebeforelast weekend. This might not be a valid datapoint."
"Yes, we were," I said, defensiveness thick in my words. "We were. We talked about it.Often."
"Yeah, I am not referring to the wedding cake versus mini pie versus doughnut argument," Matt replied. "I mean setting a date. Picking a venue. Making actualplans."
"We've done that," I said. Defensive asfuck.
"No, you haven't," Sam said, shaking hishead.
"It's great how you two think you know everything," Isaid.
"That's because we do," Sam argued. "I don't know what you think the girls talk about when they get their nails done but it's not dust ruffles and casserolerecipes."
I accepted a fresh tumbler of bourbon from the server and sank back against the booth as Isipped.
Realistically, Andy and I hadn't made many plans. At first, it didn't seem as though anything had changed. I'd asked, she'd accepted, the ring found a home on her finger. We were engaged and neither of us was in any rush to cross another threshold rightaway.
But that was more than a yearago.
We'd postponed all wedding talk until after the holidays last year, and that was fine. Closing out the year was always chaotic, and I required time to settle into the idea of being engaged toAndy.
We'd lazed in bed on New Year's Day, brainstorming dates. We'd debated seasons and argued about locations. Batted around ideas but committed to nothing. The cake-pie-doughnut controversy. Big wedding parties, tiny wedding parties. Restaurants we favored and hoped to hire forcatering.
But the problem with large families like mine was that getting everyone in the same place on the same day—without resorting to rendition—required extreme flexibility. More flexibility than I possessed. I couldn't deal with the calculus of it all. I wanted a date, a time, a place, and I was prepared to wait as long asnecessary.
Until Iwasn't.
