by Hazel Parker
“And even if so, your life shouldn’t be spent trying to please the two of us. We’re old farts who have one foot out the door.”
“Grandma!”
She laughed. Oh, she laughed so freely, I didn’t think I’d ever seen her laugh like that. It was almost like she was laughing so freely precisely because Grandpa wasn’t near her.
“How do you feel about Chelsea? And tell me the truth.”
I swallowed.
“I like her a lot,” I said. “I really enjoy her company. She’s fun, she’s sweet, she’s beautiful. She and I have a chemistry that is playful, fun, and easy. I…”
Say it. No secrets with you and grandma.
“I think I love her.”
A brief silence came on the other end of the line.
“Do you really love this girl?” she said.
It was not an interrogative question. It was a gentle one.
“I think so.”
“Really think on it, Brett,” she said. “I know that Alf and I have put a heavy weight on you grandkids with the stipulations of our will. I know that it can sometimes force you into decisions you may regret later. So really, think about it. Do you love her? Just take a few moments to think about it.”
So, I did.
I thought about how I had laid eyes on her the first night, not knowing that she would someday not only become my wife, but now the mother of my child. I thought about how, even then, she had a certain aura and presence about her that made it impossible to do anything but pay attention to her. I thought about how no other woman had captured me quite like she had.
I thought about how, even on that second “date,” I was still enamored with her and how disappointed I was when she ran off. Sure, some of it, at the time, was a fear that I would never have a “one-night stand” again for the foreseeable future, but if I were honest, it was as much the person I would have had that stand with as it was the thrill.
I thought about how I had felt a giddiness and excitement when she’d walked into the office that first day, even if her reaction had been the exact opposite.
I thought about how I felt when she lay in my arms after the first time we’d had sex.
“I do,” I said. “I really do love her.”
“Then let me make a suggestion, Brett,” Grandma said. “You have nothing to wait for. Unfortunately, your grandfather’s silly rules have something to do with this. But if you love her. If you want to be a father with her. If you want to start a family with her. If you are sure about this. Or, heck, even if you are not but you are confident about it. What do you have to wait for?”
For what?
But I could only play dumb with myself for a moment. She was suggesting I not wait to get married.
“I guess...to make sure that it’s the right choice,” I said.
“You’re never going to know for sure if it’s the right choice, sweetie,” she said. “Even your grandfather and I have had moments where we fight so badly, I wondered if it was the right choice. Of course, I have never regretted marrying him and I will never regret it for as long as I may live, but this decision is one that should be taken while you can. If you love this woman as you say you do, and you are going to be a father with her, then you have nothing to worry about and nothing left to wait for.”
I worried that this was grandma speaking as if the olden days would somehow apply to the modern era. People just didn’t get married after knowing each other for a month, and when they did, they were usually the subject of ridicule, and with good reason. And that was ignoring the fact that Grandma, who I had never considered the paradigm of liberal thought, had suddenly become so open-minded as to suggest I marry her now.
But she sounded completely of rational mind as she spoke. There was no moment where it sounded like she didn’t know what she was speaking about. If there was a moment when a lack of cognitive awareness would somehow spring up, it hadn’t happened yet.
“OK,” I said. “I guess I’ll do it.”
That was a white lie; I was only going to do it because the contract dictated it. I wasn’t going to do it now out of love. It was just speeding the process up.
But when I said it, it just felt strangely right. Like, yes, this was the woman I was supposed to marry.
“Drop by the house really quick,” she said. “There’s something I need to give you. I promise I’ll be awake when you come. Just knock so you don’t wake Alf up.”
Seriously, what the hell is going on? This is nothing like Grandma. It actually started to worry me, that maybe something had happened at the house, and that I needed to head over there to help her.
“OK, sounds good,” I said.
I hung up shortly after, in a sort of mental confusion as I drove to my grandparents’ house. Not a damn bit of this made sense. Either I had dramatically misunderstood my grandmother, or I was just an ignorant idiot. Maybe both.
When I pulled up to her driveway, the only car there was hers. I still felt a tinge of fear that someone had broken in and was holding her hostage, but there was no sign of disturbance. I walked up to the front door, and just as I prepared to knock, Grandma answered.
“Come on in,” she said. “I have something for the two of you.”
She looked just fine. It seemed that not only was she of sound mind, she was of certain mind.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up at six a.m. I normally never woke up this early on a Saturday morning, but it went without saying that circumstances meant it was anything but a normal Saturday. Grandma had set me up for the day, and now it was time to make do.
I got ready to see Chelsea. I showered thoroughly, brushed my teeth for twice as long as normal, and put on my nicest button-down shirt and some well-fitting jeans. I threw on my most stylish shoes. I ate a quick breakfast. And then I hit the road.
Surprisingly, perhaps because of the advice my grandmother had given me, I drove over with a relatively clear mind. I didn’t race through everything as I had the night before, and though I felt some nerves, I felt pretty confident about what I was doing. I wasn’t exactly “sure” that this would work, but grandma had done wonders for making me feel like what I was doing was the right choice.
I got to her apartment, made sure I had everything in my pocket, and knocked on the door. Chelsea answered a few seconds later, looking like she had just woken up.
“Brett?” she said, also sounding like she had just woken up. “What’s going on?”
“I came over to talk.”
A scowl came on her face. Not the greatest reaction.
“You couldn’t have even called or texted to let me know you were on your way?” she said. “Not interested right now.”
“Chelsea, please,” I said. “I just need to say something.”
Chelsea pursed her lips, opened the door, and let me step in. I did so, remained where I was, and let her shut the door.
“One thing I realized last night, Chelsea, was that while there’s been all sorts of confusion, weirdness, and, well, just uncertainty about everything, the one thing I did realize was that my affection and love for you is genuine and real.”
I gulped. Shit, I was really going to do this.
“There’s nothing that needs to be in a legal document or a handshake agreement for me to know how I feel about you. We both know where this is headed eventually. So, with the advice of some wiser people, I decided there was no need to wait.”
Do it.
I fell to one knee.
“Chelsea Polozzi, will you marry me?”
Chapter 22: Chelsea
“Is this a joke?”
I never imagined that the day that I got proposed to, that would be my immediate response. But really, how could I have imagined anything that had happened up to this point? How could I have anticipated literally anything from the day my father called me into his office to discuss this deal to now?
“No, Chelsea, it’s not a joke,” Brett said, still on one knee, his voice certain
. “I know it may seem that way. I know things may seem way too fast. But I know how I feel. I know that I’m serious. I know that—”
“Just...stand up and let’s talk, can we?” I said, feeling so out of whack. “I just woke up ten minutes ago. I haven’t even eaten breakfast. Let me eat and explain yourself?”
Brett looked disappointed, maybe understandably so, but that was only understandable in the context of something that made absolutely no sense. The only thing that made sense here was...umm, nothing?
Brett eventually stood up, putting the ring back in his pocket, and sat at the kitchen table while I cracked two eggs into a pan.
“So how did you come to this conclusion?” I said. “And why now?”
Brett gulped, strummed his fingers on the table, and nodded like an athlete pumping himself up for a big game.
“After I dropped you off, I spoke with my grandmother.”
Oh, Lord. She’d been nice, but really? Did she need to know about everything?
“She knows you’re pregnant, Chelsea.”
“Seriously?” I said, nearly dropping my third egg on the ground. “Did you tell her that?”
“She figured it out on her own. She knew you were nice and wouldn’t have refused wine without a very good reason. And she guessed it correctly.”
I supposed that was fair. Still...how soon would that whole family know? How quickly would judgment come down on me? How awkward was it going to be at the office when Alf Ferrari was giving me the condescending stare?
“I thought she was going to be mad, but to my complete shock, she warned me that some would judge, but she said not to worry. She also, Chelsea, she also said that if I’m going to do something, there was no need to wait.”
“So she knows about our little deal,” I said, jumping straight to the point.
“No, no, no.”
I believed him. Not that it was easy to come to that conclusion.
“I swear to you that that was one thing that Grandma didn’t figure out. But she asked me how I felt about you. I said...I said that I loved you. And, you know what, I never did say it to you directly. So let me say it to you here now, Chelsea. I love you.”
I appreciated the sentiment, but I wasn’t willing to say that so quickly. Plus, it was still too damn early and I still had not had my breakfast yet. I would have thought that in our month of spending the night together, Brett would have picked that up.
That’s just morning grumpiness. Be nice.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile.
I refrained from saying anything more. I needed to hear Brett speak more before I committed to any one direction. I had enough to overwhelm me this morning as it was.
“Naturally, like you, Grandma pressed me on it. She wanted to make sure that I wasn’t bullshitting. I don’t think she knows about our deal, but I think she knows how much pressure I’m under with the will and such. So you know what she told me? She said that if I really did love you, if I really did think that we were going to be together forever, why wait?”
It was her idea…
“I’m with you, Chelsea, in some ways. This is so crazy and so fast. But I think my grandma has a point. Even this ring that I have...it was her mother’s. It’s basically a Ferrari heirloom. It’s not just something I hurriedly picked up at the store on the way over here.”
“I can tell, it’s beautiful,” I said.
It was. It wasn’t as shiny or as glittery as something one might find at a mall store, but it had character to it; it had an edge that suggested it had been worn for generations. It was the kind of thing that wasn’t beautiful in the “glitzy” sense, but beautiful in the “value” sense.
“Well...I just...this is all so fucking weird, Brett,” I said. “If any of my friends came to me and said the guy they were dating for a month proposed to them, not only would I say why the fuck would you say yes, I’d say get the fuck away from them. But, on the other hand, it seems like we’re doing everything in reverse. We agreed to be together ‘forever’ without seeing each other. We had it set up for when we’d be married and engaged and even when we’d go on our first date. And now…”
“Now, we’re coming closer to each other.”
I cleaned the pan of all the eggs and bacon, slid it onto my plate, and took a seat next to Brett. I looked right in his eyes as the aroma of the food also awakened the rest of my senses. He was serious.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m a little scared about everything, Brett, if I’m being honest. I’m scared what your family will think. I’m scared of if we’re right for each other. I’m not scared you’d hurt me or do anything to me, but let’s be honest, we haven’t had a major fight yet. I’m scared…”
Tell him. He’ll figure it out sooner or later.
“You know my mother died several years ago, right?”
“I did, you told me that before.”
Oh. He’s got better memory than I do, apparently.
“Well, what I didn’t tell you was I was convinced she was murdered because of something my father did. I don’t know what he did, but I know he operates in a shady, strange world that he refuses to let me into. And I know that you’re in that world too, even if you try not to be. So I’m scared that one of us or our child…”
“You’re scared that we’d bring the mafia or mobster life into our home, and that one of us would suffer for the sins of the other.”
Bingo.
“Well...yeah. It’s a risk. It’s absolutely a risk. But I have no interest in dragging you into that life, Chelsea. Not a bit. I’m interested in caring for you, loving you, and, yes, making sure that I can be the best dad possible.”
“Not one that’s going to randomly disappear for weekends on end and not give any explanation?”
I expected Brett to laugh. I expected Brett to make a joke about how he would never be like his uncles or my father. I expected something that would make me think Brett didn’t understand the magnitude of what I was asking.
But nothing of that sort came. Instead, he gently placed his hand on mine, squeezed it, and smiled.
“I am going to be the best father I can, and that means I’m going to be as present as can be, as supportive as can be, and as honest as can be,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything that would endanger your or our child’s life. I’m a sommelier, not a mobster. And if somehow, our life got dragged into that, I would do everything that I could to get out of that.”
Of all the things that Brett had said this morning, that was by far the most important. It was the first time that I really felt like maybe marrying Brett wasn’t the worst idea; it would still be rushed, and it would still raise questions, but it wouldn’t be the worst.
“If you knew how much of a difference my father being around and my mother still being here would make…”
I didn’t finish. Brett squeezed my hand. I took a deep breath, trying not to cry. I didn’t want to cry right now, not when we were having a discussion over whether to say yes to an engagement.
“My biggest fear is that I’m going to have a family, and you’re going to repeat the cycle,” I said. “My dad and I are close, but not in the way I want us to be. There’s a part of his life that’s closed off to me. And obviously, I’ll never get my mother back. So I have to know that if I say yes, your life and my life will be one and the same. We’ll have no walls between us, no barriers. No secrets. No skeletons in the closet. Everything will be out in the open.”
“Everything,” Brett swore.
Well...if it was going to happen...and if making sure I had a ring on my finger before this baby came out helped matters...if Brett promised to keep no secrets from me, even if we would inevitably have fights and concerns along the way…
Why not?
“Truth be told, after I went to bed last night, I started to think that maybe you weren’t this bad guy I made you out to be,” I said. “That I’d treated you poorly on the drive home. Jumping from that to marriage is a leap wider than the Gran
d Canyon, but since when has anything about us been normal? Since when has anything we’ve done been done at a normal pace?”
“Never?”
“Pretty much,” I said, laughing for the first time since Brett arrived. “So you know what? I don’t want to say something as flippant as ‘fuck it’ to a marriage proposal. But I can’t really pretend that this is anything normal, and to act like it is somehow seems silly. So…”
“Tell you what,” Brett said. “Let’s try this again.”
He got out of his seat, dropped again to one knee, and again pulled out the ring.
“Chelsea Polozzi,” he said. “Absolutely nothing we do is normal. We do everything backward, we do everything faster than normal, and any sane person who looks at us would think we’re crazy. But out of this craziness, out of this insanity has come something wonderful—love. Maybe it will take us time for us to realize what true love is, maybe we will get into more fights along the way, but I know that for how you and I are, we will find that love. We will find that love through each other and, yes, through our child. So, Chelsea, I will ask you again—will you marry me now?”
Damnit. It was perfectly imperfect. It was...so us.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, Brett, yes, I will marry you.”
Brett smiled, lifted me out of my chair, and kissed me passionately. I had to ask him to put me down so I could finish my breakfast, but the passion and excitement were real. He hadn’t argued his way or debated his way into getting me to say yes; he had shown me that it was something I wanted. I had just been afraid to accept.
“Oh, this is great,” he said. “You and I...we’re going to be doing this for a while, I think.”
“And you’ll get your fifteen million.”
“Huh?”
He got it right after, but it was honestly so beautiful that he was focused on us instead of the money at first that I almost started to cry. He wasn’t celebrating because he was going to be richer in a few years’ time; he was celebrating because of us. What had started as purely a financial ploy had somehow turned into a real love story.
“By the way,” he said with a smirk. “There’s one thing I have been thinking about. What did I ask you?”