by Clara Reese
“Have a seat anywhere you’d like, sweetie,” she offers. “I’ll grab some coffee and be right over to take your order.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
I slide into a booth in the back that offers a full view of the window and the surrounding mountains outside. It really is breathtaking up here. If I wasn’t working so hard and taking care of my family, I might actually be able to appreciate it a little. But from my position, there’s never any time.
A small part of me wonders if taking Dawn up on her offer wouldn’t be the end of the world. Broadway has always been my dream. Even when I realized how futile dreaming was, there was still a part of me that always wondered...what if? Maybe, in another life, I could end up a star.
“You look like you’ve lost the very heart from your chest, and there’s no hope of ever getting it back.” The waitress smiles as she sets a steaming mug of coffee in front of me.
“Nothing as serious as that,” I say, forcing a laugh. “There’s just a lot on my plate right now.”
“How ‘bout I bring you a plate that will be a little easier to digest, then?” she asks cheerfully. “The pancakes are all fluffy goodness and the bacon is crisped up just right.”
“That sounds amazing.” I grin. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing,” she tosses out as she saunters back towards the counter.
Just then, my phone sings out a joyful melody, belying my current mood. I look down at the screen and see my mother’s face smiling up at me. My heart sinks in my chest as an icy sense of dread creeps up my spine. If I don’t answer, will the news miraculously turn good somehow?
Swiping my finger across the screen, I answer just before the call goes to voicemail. “Ma, is everything alright?”
“Oh, Gina!” Her voice is filled with panic. “I just got off the phone with the hospital. They called because they wanted to talk about the cost of Carlo’s procedure. They need to have a payment plan in place before the doctor will operate.”
“How much is it going to be?” I don’t really want to know. I can only imagine the hundreds of thousands of dollars that everything involved in a heart transplant will cost…doctor fees, the anesthesiologist, the facility, and who knows what else.
I choke on my breath as she says the number. It’s closer to the million mark than not. How can that be possible? My brain adamantly refuses to process the astronomical volume.
“We’ll be crippled with debt,” she continues. “But it can’t wait. Carlo is sicker every day. Every day his body weakens as he struggles just to stay conscious. The man who was ahead of him on the list died, which is why Carlo was moved up. I can’t risk waiting and letting my baby succumb to the same fate. I won’t do it.”
“I know, Mama. I know. We’ll make it work…somehow.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I’m terrified that I won’t be able to back them up. What if we can’t make it work? What if we do and he dies anyway? If we go through all of this and his body rejects the heart…I don’t even want to think of the effect that will have on my mother.
The waitress sets down a heaping plate of food in front of me. My stomach churns at the sight. I was starving only a few minutes ago, and now the thought of food makes me physically gag in revulsion.
I give her a weak smile as my gaze meets hers. She doesn’t try to interrupt my call, or pry into what could be wrong. She simply pats my hand warmly and offers a sad, but reassuring, smile before walking away.
Pushing the plate to the side, I rest my cheek against the cool vinyl of the tabletop. It soothes away some of the nausea, but only barely. “Everything is going to be fine,” I tell my mother. The words come out hollow and unconvincing.
“I can’t lose my baby,” my mother chokes out.
“I know, Mama. None of us are willing to lose Carlo. I’ll help as much as I can. If I have to get a second job, I’ll do it. Matteo will help. So will the other boys.”
“Matteo has his own family to take care of,” she protests.
“He does,” I agree. “But he’s still willing to help. Family takes care of family…always. Between the five of us, we can make this work.”
She’s quiet, and I can hear the sniffles as she tries to compose herself. “I have to go, Ma,” I say softly. “Try not to worry. Everything is going to be okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I throw a couple twenties on the table as I stand up. My grandmother is probably giving the good Lord a piece of her mind over my wasting so much food, but I can’t worry about that right now. Mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’ towards the waitress as I pass, she shakes her head as if it’s no big deal and people walk out on their meals every day here.
Jumping in the van, I crank the engine. It rumbles to life with a deafening roar. Gravel and dust fly up behind me as I charge from the parking lot and head back towards the chalet. There’s a plan formulating in the back of my mind, one that might just be the most beneficial to both Dawn and me.
She needs to be married so that she can fit the stipulations of the codicil. She was willing to offer backing for my Broadway dreams to come true. What if she was willing to help cover the cost of Carlo’s procedure instead?
I have no idea if she’ll agree, but I can’t just sit around and do nothing. If this is the only way to save Carlo and keep my family from drowning in debt, then I’ll do it. I have no choice.
9
Dawn
I hold my phone and scroll through the contacts, marking each name in my notebook. Some of these people I haven’t talked to in years. It feels humiliating to ring them up and ask them if they want to get married. Unfortunately, I have no other choice.
This is such a mess. After all of the work on the chalet...I can’t believe I have to do this. Who would have ever thought it would be legal to make someone get married in order to get property? I try to count my blessings. At least I don’t have to marry a man. And, if I pull this off, then I get to keep the property. It will cost me more than expected, however. I don’t want my future bride to come out of this with nothing. I’ll pay her handsomely, we’ll sign a prenup, and we’ll do just enough to get by the letter of the law. I only hope it will be enough.
I finish my list and take a look at the people. I make a ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘maybe’ list. There’s a lot on the ‘no’ list at first. I force myself to put some people in ‘yes’ and ‘maybe’. Still, it seems futile. I’m looking for someone to marry, not to hang out with. I don’t even know that I would want to go on a date with some of these people. And I don’t think I could call any of them up and explain this scheme.
I sigh and look out the window. I know the answer to this impossible riddle. The answer is Gina. It’s too bad she said “no”. She would have been perfect for this. I respect her decision though. I don’t think I would have said “yes” to this either. This is all completely ridiculous. I don’t need to drag her into my bizarre legal drama.
My thoughts are pulled away from Gina by the sound of an engine. There’s a car pulling up to the chalet. I’m confused. I’m not expecting anyone right now. I get up to take a closer look.
Just then, Gina burst through the door, making me jump. She must have practically sprinted up to the door. She looks disheveled and she’s panting. I imagine this is a result from running.
“My brother is sick,” she says breathlessly.
“Oh,” I say, unsure of how to react to this situation. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Gina.”
“His name is Carlo,” she continues. “He’s my baby brother. He has a congenital heart defect.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, repeating myself. I don’t know what she’s getting at here.
“He’s going to get a heart transplant. He’s just been moved up the list,” she tells me.
“That’s wonderful,” I say, smiling at her, though I still don’t know what the hell is going on.
“He doesn’t have a lot of time left,” she explains. “The person ahead of him on the list died. Now
he’s up higher, but that usually means he’s not doing so well either. And the treatment…it’s expensive. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.” She looks away from me.
I nod, understanding what’s going on now. “And you need the money,” I tell her.
“I’m not asking for a handout,” she says. “I’ll earn it. I’ll marry you and we can do this whole thing and you can keep your chalet.”
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll pay for the treatments.” I rip the list out of my notebook and throw it in the garbage. I have a fiancée now.
“Please, sit down,” I say to Gina. “We’ll work out the details.”
She sits down, looking relieved.
“Thank you for doing this,” she tells me. “It’s just…He’s my little brother and I love him so much.”
She starts to get teary-eyed. It hurts to see her in that much pain, even though we don’t know each other that well yet. I take her hand and squeeze it.
“Hey, don’t do that,” I tell her. “He can get his treatments. I’ll pay for it. He’ll get better. You’ll see.”
I feel bad promising this. I don’t know his condition. It sounds pretty bad though. They don’t put just anyone on the transplant list. At least if a heart becomes available, they can get it without worry. It doesn’t always feel like a blessing to have this much money. Sometimes it feels like everyone wants to use you. But it feels good to use it for this. It’s a lot more money than I expected to be putting into the chalet, but I’m getting the chalet and I’m saving a life. Not many can say that. Besides, I can afford it.
Gina nods as she listens to me. She looks so sad. I let go of her hand.
“Let me put a pot of coffee on. We’ll work out the particulars of the deal once we have some caffeine in us,” I tell her.
“Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you,” she responds, wiping at her eyes.
I get up and put on the coffee. I pour us both a cup and bring it out to her with some cream and sugar. I set hers in front of her and put the other in front of me. I grab my notebook and pen again.
“Thank you,” she says, making the coffee to her liking.
“Where should we start?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she responds. “I’ve never done this before.”
I laugh a little at that.
“I would hope not,” I say. “Or else I’d have to wonder what all you’re getting up to.”
She laughs a little at that too. It’s a pretty laugh.
“Maybe we should come up with some rules,” I say. “What is and isn’t okay.”
“Yeah. That sounds good to me.” She says.
“Okay,” I begin. I jot down notes in my notebook. “I think that, in order to sell this, we’ll need to be really couple-y in public. We’ll need to hold hands, sit with each other, laugh at each other’s jokes, make goo-goo eyes…that sort of thing.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I agree. We’ll need to sell this if we want it to work. I can do that. We’ll be affectionate when we’re around other people.”
“It’s okay if we don’t do that in private though,” I say. “In fact, I think it’s best that we don’t. We’ll be strictly professional when we’re alone. That way it doesn’t have to be uncomfortable for you. It’s more like a job. I don’t want to make you think I’m trying to buy your affection. It’s just a performance. It will be good practice for when you’re on Broadway.”
She smiles at that. “Yeah, of course. A performance.” She says. “Are you okay with kissing?”
I’m slightly taken aback by how bold she is. “Yeah. We can kiss in public. That’s okay with me.”
“I think we can flirt in public, too. Make little references and such to our sex life. But obviously we won’t really be doing anything like that,” she tells me.
“Yeah. Of course not.”
I write down more notes as we continue. We work out the particulars of what we think of when we think ‘affection’. We try to strike a balance between cute and obnoxious. We want to really sell that we’re in love, but we don’t want to give anyone a reason to look at how we interact together for too long. I keep notes on everything for reference.
“Now, the real test will be my family’s ski trip,” I say. “My family and I…well, we don’t exactly get along. They love to criticize me, so they’ll be looking really closely at us, especially if it seems like this came out of nowhere. So we’ll have to convince them that we’re in love and that it just happens to solve the problem with the chalet.”
She laughs. “Yeah. I’ll give the performance of my life. Don’t worry. I’ll block out my calendar for the next month. We’ll be seen together as often as we can.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I know you would normally be spending that time with your brother.”
“That’s okay,” she responds. “Thanks to you, I’ll have plenty more time to spend with him.”
She gives me another watery smile. And I give her one back. This does warm my heart. It makes me feel good to do right by someone, even if it is technically lying. It’s lying for a good cause.
However, that feeling quickly turns into anxiety as I think about having to sell this to my family. I really hope Gina is a good actor.
10
Gina
I can’t help but be intrigued at this whole situation.
This engagement is unorthodox, to say the least. Really, it’s absurd, and probably illegal somehow. But still, I can’t help but get some excitement from it. Why shouldn’t I get to have something go right every once in a while? I’m getting probably the most interesting acting exercise ever created and I’m going to be able to save my brother. There’s no downside.
It does help that Dawn is pretty cute as well, I have to say. She’s on the short side and she has an amazing body and this gorgeous blonde hair. She also has very warm, kind eyes. She’s really a good person. I’m honored to have her as my fake fiancée. Pretending to be in love with her will be way better than working crazy hours and trying to scramble for the cash for Carlo’s surgery. Honestly, this is a better gig than I ever expected to get.
My phone vibrates. It’s Dawn.
“Hello?” I say into the phone, wondering why she’s calling.
“Hi, Gina,” she says. “We have our first public performance coming up.”
“Huh?” I ask. “What is it?”
“Some friends of mine are putting on a charity dinner,” she says casually.
“Friends of yours..?” Uh oh. That means they’re rich. “Am I expected to be wearing something fancy? I don’t think I have anything like that to wear...”
“Oh, just any old gown will do,” she says.
“A gown? Dawn, what makes you think I have gowns just lying around?”
“Oh, that’s okay. We’ll just get you one.”
“Before tonight?” I ask. “Don’t gowns need to be fitted?”
“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. I’ll pick you up in ten.”
“Ten minutes?” I ask, overwhelmed at how fast this all happening. “Okay. Let me get ready, I guess.”
After we hang up, I rush to get ready. Just after I throw on my coat, a car pulls up. It’s a really beautiful car. I can tell it’s Dawn’s. I step outside and Dawn hops out of the driver’s seat. She rushes over and gives me a hug.
“Are you excited?” she asks.
“Oh. Maybe. Yeah...I am. Sorry.”
She laughs. “It’s alright. It will be fun, I promise.”
She leads me to the car and opens the door for me. I climb in and buckle up. She goes back over to the driver’s side and gets in. She turns on the car. She drives us to an upscale boutique. I can tell just by the storefront that I can’t afford any of this.
“Oh, Dawn…I don’t think-“
She puts up a hand, silencing me. “Don’t worry. It’s on me.”
“Okay…” I say, apprehensively.
She hops out of the car and again opens the passenger door for me. I let her do it. We can u
se this as a practice for the real deal tonight. When I get out, she hands her keys to the valet and we head inside.
The inside of the store is extremely fancy. I feel really underdressed. It’s like something out of a movie. It’s one of those places that you know must exist, but you don’t ever think you’ll get to experience it.
“Don’t look at the price tags. Just pick out something you like,” Dawn reassures.
We begin to look through the dresses in the store. They’re really nice, I have to admit. But I feel a little overwhelmed by options. I’ve never been to a charity dinner before. I don’t want to mess this up for Dawn or embarrass myself. She’ll look silly if she shows up with me and I act unrefined. She’ll have to spend our marriage defending me to her friends. That’s not fair to her, but it might give us a reason to get divorced later, I guess.
“Oh, I love this color on you.” Dawn holds up a green dress in front of me. “It brings out your eyes.”
I take the dress from her and look at it. It’s an ugly dress. Is she trying to make me look bad?
“Really?” I ask. “This one?”
“What’s that face for?” She says with a laugh. “You don’t like green?”
“I like green just fine.” I tell her. “But this dress is ugly.”
“Gina,” she says with a laugh. I guess I shouldn’t openly insult the dresses here.
“Do you really like it?” I ask, hoping the answer is ‘no’. “If you love it, I’ll wear it. You’re the one paying for it.”
“I don’t want you to spend the night hating your dress, Gina,” she tells me. “I want you to get what you want. Though, I have to admit that I do hope it’s green.”
“That’s a deal,” I say. “I’ll pick out the dress. You can pick the color.”