by Gabi Moore
I stared at her blankly.
“How do you know all that?”
She laughed and poked me in the ribs.
“Call me an expert.”
“I’ve just met someone. But it wasn’t serious. She’s getting married, actually.”
“Shit.”
“Well, yeah. So that’s that. It’s a mess.”
“Huh. And I know how much you love mess,” she laughed.
I slumped down in my seat.
“She has a kid, too. I always swore I never wanted to be a father, never wanted to take care of kids, you know? Anyway, she’s run off with this real tool, I mean, you should see this guy. And I can’t get it out of my head. Why him? What on earth could she see in him? And yet, there it is. I guess women just want assholes, right?”
“Oh please,” she said and rolled her eyes hard at me. “Don’t give yourself airs, you’re a tool as well.”
I cracked a smile.
“I’m serious. Not to be funny, but you’re getting on in years. If you don’t want to date the ‘babies’ who come around to your stall, then you’re going to have to date older women. And those women are …messy. They have kids. They need commitment.”
I sighed and rubbed my face.
“Come on already with the whole commitment spiel. Did you really just appear out of thin air to come and lecture me about relationships?”
She grinned at me.
“Actually, I’m here with someone. Don’t freak out, but we’re tying the knot early next year,” she said, and watched closely for my reaction.
“You’re shitting me.”
She burst out laughing and danced around the stall.
“No, I’m serious! He proposed last month. I can’t believe it. He’s amazing, you’d love him.”
I scoffed and looked at her sideways.
“Never took you for the marrying kind,” I said, a little surprised.
“No, you’re the one who’s not the marrying type, I’ve always believed in true love,” she said and swanned around, grinning at me like an idiot. “Anyway, seeya around, he’s probably waiting at the food court for me.” She pecked me on the forehead, gave me a little wave and then disappeared off into the crowd again.
I frowned.
When your insane ex starts making more sense than you do, it’s time to worry. I sat there for a while, mind reeling. It’s not that I had commitment problems. It’s just that I hadn’t found anything that looked worth committing to yet. That was a separate problem, wasn’t it? Goddammit it if I knew.
Kat had been on my mind every day since she walked out of my studio a few weeks ago. I had been a wreck. I had already burnt through the anger I had at that idiot Anthony and why an ass like him would get to have a woman like her. No, I was passed resenting him. Now, I had a sneakier, uglier suspicion. That maybe, he wasn’t an ass. Maybe, he actually did have something offer her along, something I was missing.
I shook my head and told myself to stop stressing about it. There was nothing I could do now. Why bother? She would marry him and that would be that. So I was a bit stupid when it came to relationships. So I didn’t exactly get emotions and all that shit. Fine. I was an artisan. I could build things, real things, with my hands, and I was independent, and I answered to nobody, and if I had to be a lone wolf till the day I died, so be it. If she wanted some white bread asshole like him, maybe she wasn’t what I thought she was anyway.
By the time I had packed up the stall for that evening and arrived home, I was in a sour mood. I slammed the car door shut and blustered inside. I took one look at the tree, picked up my phone and called Antony. I left him a terse message explaining that I wouldn’t be available to do cabinetry for him anymore, and that he needed to find a new supplier.
I pulled a beer from the fridge and slammed the door, clinking all the beers still in there, then slumped on the couch.
Fuck him.
And fuck her.
I guzzled back the drink and stared daggers at that stupid tree. It had taken me hours of work to put that thing together, and she had just left it here. What the fuck was I supposed to do with it now?
I clenched my jaw, set the beer aside and got to my feet. Without thinking about it too hard I found myself in the adjacent room, axe in hand. I went over to the tree and took one long look at it.
All the useless work I had put into each and every branch. All the carving. All the bolting and gluing and balancing. For nothing. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever made, and I had made it for her. And it was good enough to play with, sure, but not good enough to accept. I wasn’t the one with commitment problems, she fucking was.
With a strong, sinewy movement I pulled the axe off to the side and let it hover in the air for a moment before tightening my shoulders and swiping it down hard in one blow, bringing the edge of the blade crashing into the polished wood of the trunk.
The crack echoed in the studio.
I took a deep breath and opened my chest to yank the axe free and lift it up again for another blow. I struck again in the split, widening it and causing the tree to wobble on its base. I struck again. And again.
Thin, hot beads of sweat prickled my skin. Each thwack sent painful ripples all through my biceps and into my spine, but I kept on, until the trunk dislodged and came splintering down, and then I kept on still, stepping into the wreckage and hacking away further till every last polished bough was split into shreds…
Chapter 15 - Kat
“You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, you know. It’s bad luck,” I said playfully.
He only laughed.
“Sounds like stupid superstition to me. Besides, I already know what you’ll look like. You’ll look like yourself, just in a wedding dress.”
Anthony was sitting beside me on the couch and we were watching a home makeover show. In a little while, I’d offer to make him some cocoa. And tomorrow, we’d get married. It seemed surreal. But also strangely comforting.
“A superstition? I mean, why not just throw away the rest of the wedding stuff, then, you know? It’s all more or less tradition,” I joked.
He didn’t smile.
“Not really. It’s important for friends and family that we take the event seriously,” he said.
I shrugged. “Still, it’s weird to just and pick and choose traditions, don’t you think? Kind of takes the magic out of everything.”
We both stared straight ahead at the TV; Nicky was banging something on the floor in the other room and singing a song to herself.
“I’m not sure what your point is here, Kat. It really does seem to be just a meaningless tradition.”
“Ok, fine, just forget it.”
He gave me a dry look.
It seemed like most of our arguments these days centered around what was and what wasn’t meaningful. And usually the question was resolved by him: most of the world was silly, meaningless and immature. And the things he was interested in were also conveniently the few things that were legitimate. He had laughed when I told him about the buckled garter belt. He had scoffed and asked, “but why?” and I had spent the rest of the afternoon wondering the same thing.
“Let me make you some cocoa,” he said.
Our usual conflict resolution style was to make some kind of beverage for each other.
“Sure, not so much sugar this time, please.”
Some women would call this lucky, I guess. I could learn to do the same. The doorbell buzzed, and I nearly leapt out of my skin. I got up quickly to go and see whom it was.
“My dear, are you expecting anyone?” I heard him call from the kitchen. I pretended I hadn’t heard him.
I opened the door and there was nobody there. But in the darkness, on the welcome mat, was a gift. I quickly scanned around but saw nobody, then picked up the parcel and went inside again. I heard Anthony clattering away in the kitchen. I examined the parcel: lumpy, crudely wrapped, and as big as a microwave. My hands tore it open quickly, and I
took a moment to understand what it was.
It was a beautiful, handmade wooden horse on wheels. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. Rather than being painted, the different colors of the mane and the hooves and the eyes were all done in different colored woods, all polished to a high shine and worked and carved with great care. It was like something from a museum.
I tried hard to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Dear? Who was it?” he yelled form the kitchen.
“Nobody. I mean, someone left a gift.”
He came into the living room and looked down at it with a quizzical expression.
“That’s odd,” he said after a while.
“It’s a wedding gift, maybe? I guess it’s for Nicky…” He took it in his hands and turned it over in his hands, trying to look for the catch. “Weird. What’s the point?”
“What do you mean, what’s the point?”
“Well, obviously it’s too nice for a child to play with. Kind of a pointless gift, don’t you think? Strange.”
He put it down again.
“I like it,” I said quickly, and picked it up again.
Uninterested in it any further, he left the room to go and finish making the cocoa. I stared at it, long and hard. He had been thinking about me. He had been thinking about …Nicky. I tried to wipe away the tears that prickled my lower lashes. Too little, too late. Anthony was right, what was the ever-loving point? Of any of it? My head was a mess.
“Don’t worry about cocoa for me, dear” I yelled towards the kitchen. “I think I want to go and try on my wedding dress.”
“Try it on? Are you worried it doesn’t fit?”
I pretended I didn’t hear him and went to my bedroom, and closed the door behind me. With eyes bleary with tears I pulled out the giant box from the closet and lifted out the great, poufy mess that was my wedding gown. I had gone with the gathered bodice after all. And the beaded belt. And the regular frilled satin garter belt and veil that looked like curtain mesh.
I absentmindedly pulled it on, zipping myself in. I thought of his face. His gorgeous, deep eyes, and the way I felt so perfectly naked when he ran them over him. About his soft, warm voice and the way he had stood before me, nearly nude, all of his strong young body hot and hard for me. I thought of his clever, well-worn hands. I thought of his breath.
I grabbed my phone and sent him a message. The first in weeks and weeks.
Kat: Thank you for the gift
I sent it, feeling as though it simply went out into the void, another pointless gesture in my pointless life. But the void responded. Almost instantly.
Mark: Do you like it?
I stood there, crying in my stupid wedding dress. Of course I liked it. I loved it with all my heart.
Kat: It’s beautiful
I flopped down onto the bed and the voluminous skirts puffed up around me like a marshmallow.
Mark: I miss you
Kat: I’m getting married tomorrow
He didn’t reply for a good five minutes.
Mark: I miss you
It was honest, at least. I missed him too. But so what? Sometimes the right things in life are the hardest to do.
Mark: Why are you doing this? It doesn’t make any sense
Kat: Remember you said that sometimes you do things and only understand why you did them later on? Maybe it’s like that
I hit send. I didn’t believe a word of what I’d written, not really. He didn’t reply. The screen went dark and so did my heart. What did I expect, anyway?
I wiped away my tears.
All at once the bedroom door came swinging wide open and Anthony stood there, doorknob in hand, staring at me like I had I was some kind of space alien wearing lace and a tiara. I made a lame effort to cover up the dress with my hands or make a dash to hide behind the door, but he just stood and gawked at me.
“Anthony! You’re not supposed to see me!” I cried out, dismayed that he was just standing there staring dumbly at me. “Get out!” I said in shock and tried to shoo him away. An expression I didn’t recognize sparked over his face and all at once he slammed the door behind him and took a step towards me.
“Do not speak to me like that.”
His tone frightened me.
“Anthony, I already told you, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony.”
He rolled his eyes and took a deliberate, bare look at me, all the way up and all the way down again.
“Well, I’ve seen you now, so we can just drop this stupid thing already.”
“It’s not stupid,” I said and hastily started to take everything off again.
He laughed.
“Are you honestly mad? Come on, you’re being silly.”
“If you tell me I’m being silly one more time,” I said, and froze to stare at him. He lifted his eyebrows at me.
“Kat, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You’ve been acting weird all week, you haven’t been your usual self.”
“No offense, but how do you know what my usual self is?”
I had stuffed the dress back into its box and now stood before him in my underwear. It was the same blue and white set I had worn the day Mark had …well, I knew for a fact I looked good in it. I knew that many men would have crawled through mud to get a glimpse of me wearing this. Yet none of it seemed to register with him at all. He just stared at me with impatience.
“You’re tired. I’m sorry, dear, I know that these little things are important to you.”
“Anthony, we’re getting married in the morning, that’s not a ‘little thing’.”
“Sure, I know, I only mean that …well, I know that women need to have all this stuff, the dress, the wedding and all that.”
I stared at him dumbstruck. That ‘stuff’ had all been his idea.
“I guess I just don’t see the point of all that stuff, that’s all, I’m sorry for being insensitive,” he said, and extended his hand to me.
I nearly laughed out loud.
If I wasn’t doing it for him, then who was I doing it for? Why was I standing with an overpriced ugly white dress in my hands that I’d never wear again?
I stared at him sitting on the bed. I had sold my life for almost nothing, and it turned out to be even less than that. My head began to spin. A thought that I’d been trying to ignore barged its way into my head. The wedding night. Tomorrow night. I saw myself crying quietly into my pillow, wearing dry, tasteful bedclothes, him trying to tell me that he just didn’t see the point of fucking, and that we’d do it later. Maybe.
I took his outstretched hand and he pulled me down beside him on the bed. Without thinking, I leaned into him and tried to kiss him. He reacted violently; pulling away with such force I thought he’d give himself whiplash.
“Kat, what are you…?”
“Just kiss me.”
I lurched forward and planted my lips on his, but he froze, his entire body tightening in my grasp. We proceeded to bumble through a kiss so awkward it nearly hurt. Red-faced, he pulled away from me and fiercely hid his face from mine.
“I don’t get it, just kiss me…” I said. I looked down and saw both his fists balled up on his lap.
“Kat…”
“What’s wrong? For God’s sake we’re going to be husband and wife,” I cried, and reached out for him again. This time he reacted almost by instinct, his hand shooting out to deflect mine, striking me so hard I yelped and recoiled. Instantly he turned a horrified face to me.
“Kat …Kat, I’m so sorry” he whispered.
He looked mortified.
The spot on my arm was still thumping where he had swatted he off. The tears came easily now.
“Are you …are you gay or something? I don’t understand.”
His face only grey redder, contorted with some hidden shame that suddenly seemed out of his control.
“You’re afraid to do that …you’re, you have some sort of …issue?” I said blindly.
For weeks I had blithely
pretended that it wasn’t weird as hell. That it wasn’t strange at all that two engaged people had scarcely touched one another, had ‘kissed’ only a handful of times. It suddenly seemed ludicrous that I had never even seen him naked.
“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” I said. But not to him. I stood up as though sleepwalking, and made for the door.
“What do you mean? Kat, don’t go. I’m sorry.”
“I can’t do this,” I said. The words left my mouth and then the thoughts caught up with them later. “I can’t do this,” I said again, once I realized that I meant them.
“Kat, don’t go.”
I opened the door to leave.
“Kat, sex isn’t everythi--”
I turned to look at him. He suddenly seemed so small. So fragile. What if sex was everything? What if there was nothing worth pursuing in life except that beautiful moment of orgasm, of perfect ecstasy?
“I’m sorry,” I said, and slipped the engagement ring of my finger and gently placed it beside him.
“Kat …you can’t do this…”
I turned to look at him again. No matter how hard I looked I just couldn’t see it. He was a good man. A fair and kind and reasonable man. He just wasn’t Mark.
I turned to leave.
“Kat, don’t go! They won’t refund us for the venue!” he cried out after me.
I threw on a slip dress and some shoes and went to fetch Nicky. She was already playing with the wooden horse in the living room.
“Baby, do you like your new toy?” I said and went over to stroke her brow. “Why don’t we go and show it to aunt Lily and Jess?” Her face lit up and in an instant she had found her little backpack and had put her shoes on, ready to leave.
I looked up and saw him standing in the bedroom doorway, watching me forlornly.
“Don’t be here when I come back” I said quietly. Then I turned on my heel and left.
Chapter 16 - Mark