Pretend You’re Mine

by Black, Natasha L.

But I’d made my tremulous bed, now it was my turn to lie on it. So, when I got home, I fixed myself a nice big bag of popcorn. I plopped in front of the TV and, just as I was about to power on Netflix, I called up Xander.

  “Hey,” I said when he picked up. “I need a favor for tomorrow.”

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “There’s this bazaar my parents’ church is having at six.”

  “You want me to go to a bazaar with you,” he said, with as much skepticism I guess my random request warranted. “At your parents’ church? I thought you didn’t want anyone else knowing about us.”

  “It’s not by choice, really,” I explained. “My parents have been trying to set me up with this guy for a little while now. They invited him over for family dinner and tried to corner me into going with him. I was trying to get out of it, so I just ended up blurting out that I had a new boyfriend. I mean, you can see the parallels in our situations here yes?”

  There was a pause, in which I absentmindedly twirled my hair waiting for him to answer me. What if he had the balls to refuse?

  But then he said, “I’ve never been to a church bazaar before. Anything I should know or expect?”

  “Just don’t dress like a bum and you should be fine.”

  Xander swore under his breath. “Guess I’ll have to go shopping then.”

  A surprised bark of laughter bubbled up from my chest. Most of the assholes I’d met never seemed to have a decent sense of humor. Apparently Xander was funnier than I gave him credit for.

  “You okay with me driving?” he said.

  “Sure,” I said. It would just make explaining things to my parents easier.

  “Ok, six P.M. tomorrow it is then, my darling wife.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said. “Anyway, tomorrow I’m your girlfriend.”

  “How many different stories are we going to be telling people?”

  “We can quiz each other in the car. The truth will work mostly, except for the accidental marriage part. We can add in a good date or two.”

  “That dinner date we had wasn’t so bad.”

  “It wasn’t so good, either.”

  A pause, in which he probably wanted to argue, then he said, “Goodnight Naomi.”

  “Goodnight Xander.”

  It was only once I’d hung up an picked up the remote that I realized how hard my heart was slamming in my chest.

  6

  Xander

  As I drove us to the church, there seemed to be a conspiracy amongst the other drivers to slow us down.

  Naomi huffed anxiously in the seat beside me.

  “We’ll get there on time,” I said.

  Although I was getting less sure of it by the minute. When I’d pulled up to her tall, grey on grey building, I’d figured we had plenty of time. We’d had a whole thirty minutes to get to this church of hers that was only fifteen minutes away.

  Though since it was a bazaar and not an actual service, I wasn’t so sure why it was imperative that we be there at a specific time. I decided to ask.

  “Is there a reason we have to be there at six sharp?” I queried.

  “It only lasts until seven. So there’s no sense in showing up twenty minutes before the thing closes,” she answered.

  I should have been glad to find out that the event only lasted an hour, but I wasn’t. And I couldn’t figure out why. There was a selfish benefit for me, of course. The whole ‘I do one for you, you do one for me’ tenet was human nature.

  Which basically meant that if I did this, she was more likely to be agreeable at my upcoming family functions. Although with us being late, it looked like the only thing I was going to succeed at was pissing her off.

  “So, if my parents ask, please just say you’re agnostic,” she was saying now.

  “Sounds easy enough,” I said shortly.

  After all, it was true.

  “Is there any way…” she began to say.

  “No,” I said flatly. “I can’t go any faster. Unless you want me to crash into another car or the median and miss the bazaar entirely.”

  That got Naomi quiet, although she didn’t look happy about it.

  When we pulled up into the church parking lot, it was as hopping as Costco on a weekend. Nevertheless, I managed to snag us a spot, and we hurried on in.

  Inside, the church’s wooden hall was filled with white-clothed tables of baked goods, while its vaulted ceiling tossed about the eager sounds of people buying, paying, and chatting.

  My hand tightened on Naomi’s. Maybe it was the overpowering rush of sensation -sights, sounds, and smells- was a little overwhelming. I found that I was actually glad to be here with Naomi. She was obviously kind and thoughtful to have agreed to do this for her parents, and she smelled like lilacs and honey.

  And then there was the fact that she was beautiful. I’d known that the first second I’d seen her in the bar, of course – blonde shoulder-sweeping hair, a smile you didn’t see all that often, green inquisitive eyes.

  Whatever the reason, I was proud to be standing her beside her, even if it all was a sham.

  There was a stray strand of hair making its way around her jawline, and as I reached over to tuck it behind her ear, Naomi looked my way.

  “You ready for this?” I said.

  Nodding, her smile seemed so genuinely glad, that I found a smile lighting up my own face for a few seconds, before remembering this was all a show.

  “Let’s go then,” I said.

  Almost immediately, we were waved over to one of the tables where people were sitting. Around it was the well-coiffed blonde man I recognized as Naomi’s brother from the night I’d met her, as well as an older woman and man who had her eyes and nose, respectively.

  The man stood up and stuck out his hand. “You must be Naomi’s new boyfriend.”

  “Xander,” I said.

  As we shook hands, I wondered if it was his almost military bearing that had me on edge. Or maybe it was the cloying Christmas hymns echoing through the hall, courtesy of a pudgy suspender-wearing man clanging on a piano in the corner. Though maybe it was my conscience reminding me that we were lying to these nice people that pricked the hairs on the back of my neck. I tried to remind myself that this part of it was Naomi’s idea.

  “Lovely to meet you,” Naomi’s mom said. “After…”

  A deathly look from Naomi shut her mom up. I made a mental note to ask about that later. Just because we were faking this relationship for practicality’s sake didn’t mean that getting to know each other would hurt.

  “How did you two meet, anyway?” her Dad asked as we sat down.

  “At a bar,” I said, not even glancing Naomi’s way. We’d coached each other on this on the car ride here.

  “We’ve just gone on a few dates,” Naomi cut in. “It’s still in the very early stages.”

  As in, met-her-this-week-but-got-married-a-few-days-ago early stages, I thought ruefully to myself.

  But her parents didn’t look entirely convinced. Naomi’s mom put a little pickle-filled sandwich she’d looked to be about to eat down, so she could wave a dismissive hand at us.

  “Don’t downplay it for our sakes.” She winked at me. “I saw the way he was looking at you when you two came in here.”

  Naomi’s sidelong glance at me wasn’t faked, although my casual wink back was. “Got me.”

  Her mom smiled placidly, finally taking a polite bite of that sandwich. “I know a man that’s smitten when I see one.”

  For some reason, that was Naomi’s cue to get to her feet. “We’re going to check out the tables before they start shutting down.”

  “Want to snag those last-minute deals,” I added, even though I had no intention of actually buying anything.

  As her family beamed up at us, I was suddenly grateful for Naomi’s determined tug to lead me away.

  Suddenly, her brother was sidling up to us. “Convincing, you two,” he said with a small smug smile.

  With a quick look around,
Naomi hissed and glared, “Teren!”

  “Sorry.” Now his smile was good-humored. “Couldn’t resist.”

  “What do you want?” Naomi said.

  Teren pouted. “You really don’t believe I just want to meet the new beau in your life?” Leaning in, he said, “Good on you for coming.”

  I decided that I liked this Teren. Although Naomi still bore an annoyed expression. “Teren.”

  “Ok, just” – he let out a melodramatic sigh – “You know how Mabel despises me. Well she won’t sell me any of her last chocolate-covered pretzels, claims she’s saving them for someone else. Mom and Dad think I’m being dramatic and won’t go over there for me.”

  “Ok, I’ll try,” Naomi said. “But no promises.”

  “You actually get her to part with them, I’ll pay you back, and you can have some.”

  “These must be some epic chocolate-covered pretzels,” I commented. Peering at nearby tables didn’t locate the desserts in question, but Naomi was already turning away.

  “You have no idea,” Teren said with a parting wave, already heading back to their table.

  “Oh yeah, one more thing,” he called after us. “You two are an adorable couple!”

  Naomi smiled grimly, while I chuckled, even though he’d clearly done it to get a rise out of her. Naomi and I may had been many things – complicated, bound together for convenience, in over our heads – but we were not adorable.

  As we strolled around checking out the tables, the goods themselves were better than I had expected. Probably because my expectations – having never been to a church bazaar before – had been fairly stereotypical; cookies in the shape of crosses and bedazzled Bibles. But the only indication that this was a church bazaar –other than the fact that it took place in a church– were the Christmas hymns. On sale was your regular delicious Christmas fare; red and green Rice Krispies treats, candy canes of every stripe and size galore, and enough hand-knitted mittens to cloth the occupants of this church ten times over.

  “My family has never done these sorts of things together,” I said.

  Naomi looked at me for a moment as if trying to determine whether I was insulting her family traditions or not.

  “This is nice. Seeing everyone together at the holidays like this is nice,” I said quickly, feeling the need to put her at ease.

  She nodded and offered a small smile. “Yes, we’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember. It’s not a bad tradition I guess.”

  I thought back to my own family and our traditions. We were European and not particularly religious. Though we had our gatherings, there didn’t seem to be the same level of warmth as I witnessed between the people that surrounded me. In fact, after the previous Christmas, I wasn’t feeling particularly warm and fuzzy about any of my family members. “Are you close with your family?” Naomi was asking, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I shrugged. “We used to be,” I said, unsure why I shared that and didn’t just give a perfunctory “yes”.

  Naomi’s gaze rested on me for several beats longer, before she let the subject die. Good. Just because we were getting to know each other didn’t mean that we had to tell each other our life stories in all their gory unsavory detail.

  Although I had to admit, the heat of Naomi’s hand in mine was reassuring and I felt myself being pulled into her more and more the more time I spent with her.

  As we strolled on, a voice hailed us. “Naomi!”

  Naomi stiffened as it came again, “Naomi!”

  We turned to see a stooping man in a plaid shirt who looked somewhat like Walter White from Breaking Bad.

  “You almost missed my table.” His long fingers swept down the length of the fanny packs he had on display. There were a damn lot of them. Christmas red and green fanny packs, sparkly blue fanny packs, yellow elephant-covered fanny packs. There was even a fanny pack ‘fanny pack’ embroidered across the front as if one might have trouble figuring out what it was.

  “Oops,” Naomi said, and I almost laughed out loud.

  Her gaze sought out an escape in vain as the man started saying, “So which one would you like? Told you, I can get you guys a deal. And did you try Mrs. Schaefer’s tapioca pudding?”

  I followed her gaze to the far end of the church, where a man was playing the piano and some kids and their mom were starting to dance to the music.

  “Oh, this is my favorite song!” she exclaimed.

  Although I doubted that, I allowed her to pull me along as she said, “Come on!”

  The snowman-sweatered kids were stomping away in their oversized boots, while their leg-warmer-arrayed mom kept them in tow by holding their hands. No sooner were we within ten feet of them, Naomi started dancing. She was purposely getting so into it that it took her a few seconds to realize that I wasn’t doing the same.

  Naomi gave my arm an insistent tug. “Come on!”

  “I don’t dance,” I said.

  I certainly didn’t dance to Christmas music.

  Naomi let it go for the rest of the song, Jingle Bell Rock apparently having lifted her spirits enough for her to not care that I wasn’t dancing. The song ended, and another began; a slow crooned version of “I’ll be Home for Christmas.”

  Naomi looked over to see Captain Fanny Pack staring at us and her eyes turned pleadingly to me. I sighed inwardly and reached out to take her hand. I reminded myself that we were supposed to be a convincing couple, not only to my family, but to hers as well.

  I twirled her in a circle and pulled her in close to me. My other arm when around her waist and I held her to me, feeling her breath against my neck. I tipped my head down to look at her and realized just how close she was. Close enough to kiss.

  Our eyes met just as the song stopped. The applause from the other couples around us broke us from our reverie.

  I cleared my throat, stepping away. “I think we proved our point,” I said.

  Naomi was already pulling me over to another table of variously metallic-wrapped chocolates. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

  There wasn’t much time left in the bazaar in any case. We had just enough time to grab some caramel popcorn samples, for Naomi to buy some peanut butter brittle, and wave goodbye to her family who looked to be embroiled in a discussion with an elderly couple (Teren clearly having snuck out beforehand since he was nowhere in sight), before people started taking down their tables and we headed out.

  We got back in my car and I prepared to take her home, but for some reason I couldn’t start the engine. I didn’t want the night to end just yet. Having Naomi in my arms just a few moments earlier had rattled me in a way I wasn’t expecting. Sure, we’d had drunken sex on our wedding night, but that dance had felt intimate.

  I turned my head to look at her and found her eyes were already on me.

  “Want to go out for dinner? I know a place,” I said.

  She quirked her head at me, as if daring me to voice the impression nibbling on the edges of my consciousness.

  But then she said, “Sure”, and I was glad, because I wasn’t sure I wanted the warmth in my chest to land. Not yet.

  7

  Naomi

  It’s not real, I reminded myself as Xander expertly wove us through traffic toward whatever restaurant we were going to. Part of me wanted to ask, to know what to expect. But another part of me just wanted to give myself time to think, to mull over everything that had happened.

  Aimlessly as my mind turned everything over a hundred times, my hands sifted through my purse, seeking out the Revlon clear lip gloss I was sure I’d packed. But was there really anything to think about? This was pure pretend, and Xander had pretended beautifully. Even with that parting wave and my parents’ happy glances our way, I’d seen in their eyes how genuinely happy they’d been for me.

  They’d bought it. Everyone had. Even I almost had, when he’d spun me tight up against his chest with his face all but saying let me kiss you. Part of me felt really guilty about deceiving ever
yone.

  I pulled down the car mirror and reapplied the gloss I’d finally found. That didn’t matter either – it’s not real.

  The impromptu dinner invite could be explained away with practicalities also; something to tell his family, an opportunity to get to know each other so we could be more believable the next time. The next time we lied to everyone who loved us. Ugh.

  Soon enough, we were pulling up to Sterling. While its outside was nothing to write home about, the inside was pure fantasy fiction land. Everything, and I mean every wall, table, chair and cup, was made of sterling silver.

  “First time I came here I was already drunk,” Xander recalled with a one-side smile, as our maître d’ wove us through the scattered tables to whatever one was ours. “Thought I was losing my mind. Turns out this place is just avant-garde as shit.”

  “I’m interested to see what the food is like,” I said.

  A glance at the tables we passed found dishes of what looked to be salmon, steak, other meats, and some salads that looked lush and fresh Everything was set on, of course, stainless steel plates. Our seating and ordering were fairly quick and efficient and left us no time to chat. It was only once the waitress delivered the wine Xander had requested that talk began to flow more easily.

  Sipping his wine, Xander’s gaze found its way to a far-off window and stayed there. “Ever wish you could disappear? Run away for a few months, a year. Somehow, let your family know you were okay, of course, but just put a pause on everything? Give yourself time to think, to really enjoy things.”

  I was surprised at the questions. He seemed so settled, so confident, so put-together that I never would have imagined that he felt some of the very same things I did. “Every other day,” I admitted. I took another sip of wine, draining the last of it, although I wasn’t sure that was a great idea. “The past few years, after a total shitshow of a breakup, it started to feel like I was trapped doing the same old things with the same old people. I was so head-down in the day to day of it all that I couldn’t see the opportunities all around me.” I shook my head, setting the glass down with a clink. “But that was before. Now I have Eighteen at least; what I always dreamed of.”