Ugly Girl Ties the Knot

by Alice Wasser

  I left work early and got home just after five. The lights were on in the apartment, but I couldn’t find Sam anywhere. I finally got into the bedroom and I realized he was asleep in bed. Despite having stopped taking his baclofen for muscle spasms, Sam still takes mid-day naps.

  I crawled into bed next to him. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. I ran my hand along the stubble on his cheek and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when he saw me. “Hi, Millie,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed me.

  I swallowed. “So… how…?”

  “All healed,” he said.

  Thank God! I was so happy, I almost burst into tears. I can’t believe I had done anything to jeopardize this relationship. I’m so lucky Sam never found out. I am never going to speak to Jake ever again. I am going to be the best fiancée any man has ever had. And then I’m going to be the best wife ever. I’ll even go through with the gigantic wedding he wants. I just want to make Sam happy. Whatever it takes, that’s what I want to do.

  “You have this look on your face,” Sam murmured. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m just happy,” I replied.

  He smiled and pulled me into his arms and I lay next to him in bed. I love him so much. This was the most perfect moment of my entire life.

  God, I hope Sam doesn’t find out that Jake and I kissed.

  June 5:

  I stopped my birth control pills a month ago and now my period is late.

  I am so incredibly excited about this. I know it’s only been a month without the pills, but I’ve heard that the first month after stopping them is the most fertile month. I could be pregnant!

  I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much. In actuality, it’s pretty unlikely. My period is probably just off because of I just stopped the pills.

  Sam doesn’t ejaculate during sex. What that means is that my getting pregnant will undoubtedly involve lots of doctors’ appointments, artificial insemination, and probably dozens of heartbreaking negative pregnancy tests before we finally hit the jackpot. But there’s no rule saying that we can’t get pregnant on the first try. It’s possible. I mean, we’re having sex, so there’s always potential for exchange of fluid.

  Plus I think the two of us are due a little bit of good luck.

  I keep thinking of cuddling a newborn baby, getting to breastfeed him and change little teeny clothing. And I know Sam would be a totally amazing dad. He loves kids and I know he’s really excited about having kids soon. It would definitely make the wedding more annoying if I’m pregnant, but I don’t think he’d mind.

  I don’t want to tell him I might be pregnant, because I know it will get his hopes way up and I don’t want to let him down. But if I don’t get my period tomorrow, I’m going to buy a pregnancy test.

  June 6:

  For a woman age 30 to 34, the likelihood of infertility is 8%.

  On a related note, I got my period this morning.

  I knew it was unlikely that I was pregnant, but I still can’t help but feel disappointed. When you’re a woman, you always get the sense that the second you stop using birth control, you’ll get pregnant by simply looking at a guy the wrong way. But obviously not. Also, I worry because my mother took three years to get pregnant with me and she was really young then. And she was married to a guy who was normal.

  (Well, mostly normal.)

  Anyway, I spent most of the day today worrying. What if Sam and I can’t conceive? What if I’m infertile? What if I never get to have a baby?

  All right, I know I’m being irrational. I’m sure Sam and I will end up having a baby one way or another eventually. I just need to be patient.

  June 8:

  When I got home from work today, Sam was already home. I was shocked. I’ve beaten him home almost every day this month, sometimes by an hour or more. I saw him sitting in his wheelchair in front of the dining room table, just staring at the wall, and for a second, I was sure he’d been fired. I mean, with the economy the way it is, that seemed like a possibility. He looked really upset.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him, sitting down next to him at the table.

  That’s when I noticed that my iPhone was on the table next to him. I had left it home today, accidentally on purpose. Accidentally because I really feel naked when I’m not carrying around my cell phone these days. Most times, if I realize I forgot it at home, I’ll turn around and get it.

  But the truth is, after that little incident in Jake’s office, he has continued to text and email me. I’ve mostly ignored him, but I didn’t want to be rude, considering he is sort of my superior. I also can’t block him because we actually are working on a project together, but I couldn’t deal with the incessant texting anymore. I needed a break from it.

  But I was almost certain that I left the phone plugged into the wall charger, not on the table.

  Sam looked at me. I was surprised to see his eyes were rimmed with red behind his glasses. “Are you cheating on me with Jake Winston?” he asked.

  I stared at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest. “What?”

  “Is there something going on between you and Jake?” he said.

  “Why are you asking me that?” I was stalling, trying to figure out how much he knew. I felt like I was going to be sick.

  He scooped up my iPhone and handed it to me. “Because you have about five million fucking text messages from him.”

  I felt a twinge of resentment in my chest. “You were looking at my phone? You were spying on me?”

  Sam blinked a few times in surprise. “No, you know I wouldn’t… I mean, I just got home early and was sitting here doing some work on the computer, and every two minutes your phone kept buzzing with text messages. So I thought maybe you were looking for it or something, so I picked it up and…” He took a shaky breath. “Believe me, I didn’t expect to see that.”

  My mouth felt dry. “Sam…”

  “So I called Cheryl,” he continued. Of course, he was great friends with Jake’s secretary. He got along with secretaries the same way he got on with waitresses. “And she told me that you had… been in his office a lot…”

  I didn’t know what to say. I kept looking down at my phone. Why hadn’t I deleted all those text messages?

  (The answer is because I don’t know how to delete text messages. The iPhone isn’t as self-explanatory as it seems.)

  “You’re not denying it,” he noted.

  I could have denied everything, obviously. He might have believed me, although I’m an awful liar. I don’t think I’ve ever successfully lied to Sam.

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” He looked so hurt and devastated, I thought I was going to cry.

  “It’s not true,” I said weakly. It wasn’t, really. I mean, Jake and I had one kiss. It wasn’t a big deal at all. That wasn’t cheating. And whatever it was is over now.

  Sam scooped the iPhone off my lap. He used the knuckle of his little finger to scroll for a minute, then read off the screen, “‘I can’t stop thinking about the other day. You know you’re driving me crazy.’”

  Wow, that sounded really bad. Thanks, Jake.

  Sam raised his eyebrows at me. “Should I go on?”

  Okay, now he was being a jerk. “What—did you read all of them?”

  “Don’t act like I did something wrong,” he shot back. “You fucking cheated on me!”

  I’d never seen him so angry at me. There was no point in denying it now. He believed it was true and I wasn’t going to convince him otherwise. I could see it in his eyes.

  “Did you sleep with him?” he asked.

  “No!” I cried. “Nothing like that. I mean, he kissed me. That’s all. Nothing else happened.”

  “So you just sucked each other’s faces a little,” he said, his voice sarcastic. “That’s all. No big deal.”

  “It wasn’t like that at all,” I insisted. “He kissed me and I just pushed him away. I told him I wasn’t interested. And I’m not.”

  “Uh huh,” Sam said,
his eyes narrowed. “Did you push him away the same way you did at the office party, when you were slow dancing with him, then left the party with him and didn’t come home for two hours? Was it just like that?”

  I sucked in a breath. That Cheryl really has a big mouth.

  “What were you doing out with Jake for two hours, huh?” he demanded to know.

  “Just… talking. That’s all.” I added, “I swear, Sam.”

  Sam stared at me. “You know what? I think every word coming out of your mouth is total bullshit.”

  “Sam...”

  “It all makes sense now,” he mused. “Why you never wanted to set a date for the wedding. You don’t want to marry me. You don’t even want to be with me.”

  “That’s not true at all!” I cried, my eyes filling with tears. “I do want to marry you. More than anything.”

  “Are you sure?” Sam retorted. “Or maybe you’d like a real man…” He looked pointedly at my iPhone. “One who can open your fucking Snapple bottle for you.”

  Oh God. I really wish I had deleted those messages.

  He shook his head. “It’s not like I wouldn’t expect this coming from Jake,” he muttered. “He’s a piece of shit. But I never would’ve expected this from you. I trusted you.”

  We stared at each other for a good minute. Sam didn’t look any less furious. He’d never looked at me this way before. He’s looked at me with love, lust, and even hurt, but never anger. Not this kind of anger, anyway. I wondered if I had done irreparable damage. I know Sam holds a grudge and I was scared he might never forgive me for this.

  “I’m going out,” he finally said.

  “Where are you going?” I asked in a small voice.

  “I don’t know,” he said flatly.

  He pushed away from the table, grabbed his car keys, and left the apartment without saying another word to me. When he was gone, I started sobbing. I was scared that he hated me now, but I was also scared he was going to do something awful and dangerous because he was so upset. What if he got in a car accident? Or what if he hooked up with some waitress?

  After a while, I wasn’t even sure why I was crying anymore. But I think it’s safe to say the engagement is over.

  June 9:

  Sam got home very late last night. Around three in the morning. I knew he’d be home eventually, because he needs too much special equipment to crash at a friend’s house or a motel. He wouldn’t even be able to use the shower. If he didn’t come home, I’d know something was really seriously wrong.

  I wasn’t asleep when he got back. That would’ve been impossible. I’d been lying awake in bed since about midnight, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Even though I knew it was unlikely, I was hoping maybe he thought it through and decided he’d overreacted. Maybe when he got home, he’d crawl into bed with me and cuddle me like he always did.

  He came into our bedroom smelling of cigarettes and alcohol. I guessed he’d been at a bar. I wondered if he went alone or if his brother or a friend had been with him. I wondered if he’d flirted with the waitresses. I wondered if he’d hooked up.

  He looked exhausted. His brown hair was mussed and his shirt was wrinkled. Despite everything, he looked incredibly sexy. I wanted him. But I could tell that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  “Are you coming to bed?” I asked hopefully.

  “What do you care?” he retorted. His voice was slightly slurred.

  My stomach sank. “Did you drive home drunk?”

  Accusing him of driving drunk was probably not a good thing to do right now. Sam glared at me. “Fuck you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I kept quiet.

  “I’m going to sleep on the couch,” he said finally.

  I couldn’t let him do that. He has a special pressure relief mattress to keep him from getting a bed sore in a place where he can’t feel as he sleeps. I couldn’t let him sleep on the couch and possibly get another sore because of me.

  “No, I’ll sleep on the couch,” I volunteered. I saw him hesitating, not sure if he should accept my peace offering, so I said, “It’s your bed.”

  He looked at me for a second, then nodded. He didn’t thank me as I crawled out of bed and grabbed our spare blanket from the linen closet.

  I didn’t sleep any better after that. I lay awake for most of the night, drifting off only briefly in short increments. I woke up this morning when I heard Sam in the shower. Usually he showers at night, but I guess he figured he needed it this morning.

  I got up and sat outside the bedroom, so I’d be there when Sam came out. He was mostly dressed, but he looked pretty bad. He was pale and had circles under his bloodshot eyes. I wasn’t sure if his eyes were bloodshot because he was tired or because he’d been crying. Maybe a little of both. He didn’t say anything when he saw me.

  “Sam,” I whispered.

  He looked away from me. “I have to go to work.”

  “Could we talk about this, please?”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Sam,” I pleaded with him. “Look, I’m sorry…”

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “Sorry for what, Millie? I thought you didn’t do anything. Right?”

  I felt so frustrated, I almost wanted to punch the wall. “You’re being an asshole.”

  He glared at me. “Well, I feel like I have a fucking chainsaw in my head and I’m not really in the mood for hearing your bullshit excuses right now.”

  Sam did look like he was massively hungover. I took a deep breath. “What can I do, Sam?”

  “You can get out,” he said. Maybe it was my imagination, but it sounded like his voice broke on the words. “Like you said, this is my place. I think you should stay somewhere else.”

  “I can go to Donna’s for a few days,” I offered. I wanted to be agreeable, even though the idea of leaving here made me miserable. “Then we can talk, okay?

  “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. Which I guess was better than him telling me to fuck myself again.

  So that’s how I ended up here at Donna’s house tonight. I told her what happened and she was horrified. She said to me, “Millie, what were you thinking?”

  (Like this was all a really well thought out plan. First, cheat on wonderful fiancé; then get kicked out of our apartment so I could sleep in my best friend’s fetus’s room. Yes, it’s all going exactly to plan.)

  There’s no worse punishment for my moment of weakness than having to sleep in Donna’s baby-to-be’s room. They put a sleeping bag on the floor for me and I’m surrounded by pink (she’s having a girl) and the smell of baby powder. It’s so depressing, I want to shoot myself in the head. I keep thinking about how only a few days ago, I suspected I might be pregnant myself.

  If only I were. Sam would never do this to me if I were pregnant with his baby.

  Donna told me not to worry, that he’d forgive me. But honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never seen him so hurt and upset. As I lay in the dark, looking at the big white crib with pink trimming, I felt an intense sadness come over me and I started to cry.

  I picked up my phone in the dark and called him on speed dial. The phone rang and I decided I was going to tell him straight out how much I loved him and wanted to be with him and I just made a terrible mistake. Unfortunately, either he was asleep or not answering, because his cell went to voicemail. I heard the sound of his cute voice in the message and almost started crying all over again.

  So here I am, writing this in the dark. Hoping that Sam will someday forgive me.

  June 10:

  I’ve tried to call Sam a few times but he never picks up.

  I know if I called the Computer Helpdesk, I might get through to him, but that seems like a bit of a ploy. Maybe he just needs some space to forget what happened. That’s what I’m hoping anyway. I sent him a text this morning: “Can I come by tonight to pick up some clothes?”

  His reply: “What time?
”

  I wondered if he was asking me that because he wanted to be there or because he wanted to avoid me. I was contemplating this when the phone at my desk rang. I hate the way my phone sounds. It has a shrill ring that always makes me jump like a foot out of my seat.

  “Matilda Glockenfeld’s desk,” I said.

  “Matilda? It’s Jake.”

  I gripped the receiver. “Jake…”

  “I heard you and Sam broke up,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said. How did he know that? The only person I told was Donna.

  “I ran into Sam in the elevator,” Jake explained. “He said a few not-so-nice things to me.”

  That sounded like good news. If Sam cared enough to blow up at Jake, he must still like me. “What did he say?”

  “The usual,” Jake replied, which made me wonder how many girlfriends he’d stolen. “Called me an asshole, threw in a few four-letter words.” He laughed in a way that made my skin crawl.

  “He was pretty upset,” I said.

  “I’d imagine,” Jake said. “So that means you’re available, right? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

  Believe it or not, for a split second, I considered saying yes. Not that I wanted to start something up with Jake, but I felt so awful right now and I knew an evening of Jake fawning over me would perk me up just a little bit. It would take my mind off the fact that my fiancé hated me right now.

  But I knew if I went out on a real date with Jake, there would be no going back. Sam would never forgive me. And Sam was the one that I loved.

  I was about to tell him no when Jake said he had a call on another line and he’d call me back. I hung up the phone and looked up to see Sam’s blue eyes staring at me from the open wall of my cubicle. I felt my breath catch in my throat. After not seeing him for a day, it was like I almost forgot how cute he looked. It was all I could do to keep from jumping him.