Then He Happened

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I double dip a little,” I add with a smile as the pocket of my jeans burns with her next surprise. “I want to make this a combo party.”

  “Oh?” she says with that crooked smile I love so much. Fuck, I could look at it forever.

  She takes a sip of her champagne and rolls her eyes. “What else are we celebrating tonight?”

  This is it. Don’t fuck it up, Jason.

  “Why don’t you turn around and find out?” I say.

  Greta turns around just as Jack and Alex pull the chord on a banner that reads “Will you marry me?” I get down on one knee as she reads it, holding the three-carat princess cut I bought for her last month.

  Greta turns around slowly. “Uh, is this—” She gasps.

  “Babe,” I say, licking my lips. “All my life I’ve wanted someone who gets me as much as you do. And now that you’re done with school, I never want to be away from you again. So, what do you say? Would you make me the luckiest man on Earth and be my wife?”

  Her lip trembles a bit. Tears well up in her eyes as she nods enthusiastically. I must also be crying because the next thing I know, she is tackling me in a hug and everything is blurry around me.

  She said yes.

  I mean I knew she would say yes. But holy fuck this is real. I get to spend the rest of my life with the love of my life. This is the happiest fucking day of my entire life.

  Jack was wrong. He claimed we’re too young for this shit. I’m only twenty-five and settling down too soon.

  What does he know about being ready?

  The party kicks back into high gear. Family members keep stopping by to say congratulations. Greta shows off her ring whenever someone asks to see it, but that’s it. I expected her to be shoving it in everyone’s face.

  She’ll gloat about anything she can justify. This seems like a pretty easy thing to gloat about. I knew mixing parties was a terrible idea. Is that it?

  Huh, maybe she didn’t like the ring. I knew I should’ve taken my sisters with me, instead of Jack and Alex. They know more about what women like.

  “If you want to change it, we can check other jewelers,” I suggest, hugging her by the waist.

  “Are you kidding?” she asks. “It’s wonderful, just like you.”

  I look into her beautiful blue eyes, and as I’m bending over to kiss her I hear June calling my name, “Jason, where are you? It’s time to start this party!”

  My sisters start up karaoke. Of course I get swept up in that and a few impromptu covers of Springsteen and REO Speedwagon. I realize after a few turns with family members that I haven’t seen Greta in a while. I let Marek take the next one by himself.

  “Wait, where are you going?” he says, panicked.

  “Gotta find my fiancée, bro,” I inform. “Can’t do a duet of Benny and the Jets without her.”

  More people must have arrived after the proposal. It’s so fucking packed in here. I wade through this huge crowd, but still nothing.

  “Have you seen Greta?” I ask Jackson who is by the door with Vivian, his girlfriend. She looks a little annoyed as I approach them.

  “No man, maybe you went a little overboard.”

  Vivian huffs. “At least she got a three-carat ring.”

  I pat Jack on the shoulder and continue my way around. Good luck with that one, buddy.

  “Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” I murmur to myself as I head in that direction.

  She’s nowhere to be found in the hallway bathroom, but I hear something coming from my bedroom. Greta’s sitting on the floor next to the window, sobbing. I run to her side, clutching her tightly.

  “Hey,” I shush her gently. “What’s going on?”

  Greta shakes her head, burying it in my shoulder. She sobs even harder. I take a deep breath, hugging her tighter. Eventually, the sobs die out.

  “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

  “Sorry for what?”

  She pulls away, shrugging. Her eyes won’t meet mine. It’s unnerving.

  “I’m just so overcome with emotions, Jason,” she says. “I knew we were heading in this direction, but—”

  “Hey no, don’t be sorry for that.” I clear her tears with my thumb.

  Seeing her this sad is breaking me down.

  “If it’s too soon we can slow things down,” I offer. “Or just have a really long engagement.”

  She shakes her head. “No, nope, you’ve waited so long for this. I can’t stall your dreams any longer.”

  “Greta, babe, you are my dream,” I remind her. “Nothing’s going to change that, alright?”

  Greta finally looks up at me. Her eyes are still so fucking watery. I kiss the corner of her left eye.

  “Okay,” she whispers. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

  In hindsight, I don’t know who she was trying to convince—herself or me.

  23

  Jason

  Nine Years Ago

  A year into being engaged, our wedding planning is in high gear. There’s less than six months until our big day, and there’s so much that still needs to be done.

  The wedding planner keeps calling my cellphone asking for Greta. Usually, it’s while I’m at work. It keeps getting my boss aggravated but, it’s fine. I won’t be here long anyway. Once we save up enough and Greta passes the bar in New York, we’re starting a brand new life.

  My apps are selling like hot candy, and maybe I can make a living off of them.

  “Uh, why don’t you call her cellphone?” I say at least once a week.

  “She’s not picking up, again,” she normally says, but this time—

  “I don’t care anymore. You’re available, she’s not,” she comes to that conclusion and I’m fucked. “Will you just tell me if you prefer blue hydrangeas or blue roses?”

  “Uh,” I say not knowing what a fucking hydrangea is, “Hydrangeas?”

  It sounds fancier, right. Greta likes different. There’s nothing more different than a flower you can’t pronounce.

  “Perfect,” she speaks loudly, then mumbles something I can’t make out before coming back to the line. “Tell your bride if she ghosts me again, I’ll be charging extra. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal,” I say.

  “It’s Josslyn,” she corrects jokingly.

  “Can I call you Jossie?”

  “Only my friends call me that,” she announces.

  Damn, she flips back to professional in nothing flat. That’s not only the impressive thing about her business acumen.

  “Noted,” I say. “Hey if you ever want to get out of the wedding planning game—”

  “You’re not the first man to offer me a business proposition.” She stops me right in my tracks. Damn, she’s not an easy person to convince. Or maybe she’s the perfect one to have in your corner. “So, I’ll tell you what I told the others. I make six figures. Unless you’re willing to match that plus unbelievable benefits, stop while you’re ahead.”

  “Hear you loud and clear,” I respond.

  “She has you picking wedding colors?” Alex says with an amused face.

  We met at our favorite sports bar to watch the Sharks play the Canucks. So far, it’s a bust. We’re getting slammed by the Canadians. It’s only the first period and they already scored two goals.

  “Whoosh,” says Jack, pretending to handle a whip. “Aren’t we a little whipped?”

  “What do you want me to do? She went back to school,” I remind him. “Law school.”

  Alex smirks and adds. “He likes his women pretty and smart. She’s so intelligent, she’s already regretting being with this asshole.”

  “Shut up, fucker!”

  “Aw, Jase didn’t like my joke?” He takes the pitcher and heads to the bar.

  “Is everything okay?” Jack asks seriously.

  “Why are you asking?”

  “I don’t know. Greta seemed a little strange last Sunday while you guys visited our parents.” He shrugs. “
If you need to talk...”

  “Call June or Jeannette?” I ask, knowing his usual joke.

  He smirks. “You got it, man.”

  We’re fine, I repeat inside my head. It’s the pressure of school, the wedding jitters, and her fear of not getting an internship for the summer.

  Later that week, Greta comes home late with takeout. It’s the first time I see her arriving. Every day she’s been getting home around midnight or so she says. I am fast asleep on the couch when she makes her way to the bedroom.

  “You looked so tired last night, I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” she said the first night, and the second, and even earlier today while I was making the morning coffee.

  We sit quietly across from each other in the living room. Some days she’s really into using our little dining room table. “Playing adult” is what she calls it.

  Greta always says we’ll know we’re adults when we become them. I don’t know if that’s true. I’ve been on my own since I turned twenty-one. She moved in with me two years later. And I don’t fucking know what I’m doing any better than I did four years ago.

  If anything, I think I have less control of my own life, and I can’t see what my future looks like. Her absent mind makes everything more unexpected. But not in the exciting, surprisingly way. No, it leaves me feeling insecure and shaky.

  A year ago, I was walking toward something solid. Now, I’m on top of a tightrope wondering if I’ll make it across or if a tornado will push me and I’ll fall down.

  Alone.

  “The wedding planner called me again,” I say casually over sushi.

  She groans. “What does she want now?”

  “Wanted to know if we preferred hydrangeas or roses,” I inform her.

  “Roses, obviously,” Greta says, rolling her eyes.

  “Oh well.” I cut myself off.

  There’s nothing I can add here unless she wants to get pissed off at me like that time I told the wedding planner I like vanilla cake. Apparently, we only want a chocolate wedding cake with raspberry cream filling.

  My sisters, God bless their souls, offered to give me a hand with this—in exchange for compensation. I would love to take them up on it, but I know Greta would hate if she knows the twins are making any decisions in regard to her big day.

  “Your sisters hate me,” she keeps telling me every time I bring them up. “Sometimes, being around your family is a full-time job.”

  It’s a balancing act, I understand. One day, we’ll look at this period and laugh. If only we could fast forward time.

  “It’s fine,” she says tiredly. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

  We fall into silence again. Shit’s been tough for her, between law school and the wedding. We don’t have much time to talk anymore and when we do, she’s tired as fuck. It’s really been putting a strain on our relationship.

  Patience, Dad told me. Everything will work out the way it is meant to be. I can only hope he is right. That once the planning lets up a bit, she’ll relax enough to let her guard down again.

  I miss her quirky laugh. The way she used to indulge my weird love of 80s music or how she used to trust me to make everything better for her. I just want her to be happy.

  “You know,” I say hesitantly. “My schedule’s a bit more consistent than yours.”

  She glances at me, her lips pressed together. My stomach drops. This might be a terrible idea and she’s just going to dump my ass.

  But what if that’s the solution?

  “Maybe I should help out more with the wedding,” I suggest. “You know, call the shots a little more so you don’t have to.”

  Her gaze narrows and she asks, “How would you know what I want?”

  “We can make a list with the basics. I’ll go from there.”

  Greta nods as she takes a long sip of wine. “That would be fantastic. You know I can’t keep up with Jacklyn’s—”

  “Josslyn,” I correct her.

  “Whatever,” she says waving her hand. “She’s too much and she has to have a contingency for everything. Who needs that in their life?”

  Us, I think, but don’t say out loud.

  “So it’s settled,” I conclude invigorated by this new plan. “I’ll take the helm of the SS Spearman Wedding.”

  Greta reaches over the coffee table to squeeze my hand. Her mouth smiles, but it never reaches her eyes.

  That’s been happening a lot more lately.

  But any time I try to bring it up she gets more upset or pushes me away. One time I asked her if there’s more she needed from me. She left and didn’t come back for three days.

  I’ve stopped trying to ask. For now, at least.

  Once things settle down, shit will get back to normal, I try to argue to myself. We’ll get back to normal. It’s just a few more months of tight schedules and tensions. After that we can take our honeymoon, cool off.

  If she isn’t happy then, we’ll work through it. Whatever it takes to get her smiling for real again.

  “Thank you,” she says. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  I shrug, blushing slightly. “You can show me after the reception.”

  Of course, she never got the chance.

  24

  Jason

  Eight Years Ago

  Wedding planning isn’t for the faint of heart.

  Save the dates, invites, flowers, caterer, RSVPs, seating charts, and so much more. If my business doesn’t take off, I’m going to work for Josslyn. While working on this, I even created an application for wedding planners, another for brides, and even got a fun countdown for grooms.

  We are ready for the big day. At least, I think everything is ready. I have changed my vows five times. They don’t sound right. Something is missing. There’s just so much I want Greta to know.

  This day has to be perfect for her. It’s the most important day of our lives. We’re finally here.

  Are there enough words to express what she means to me?

  I just need her to feel the way she did before… I can’t remember when was the last time that she smiled without worries. Fuck, the last time she smiled period. A real smile. One that showed in her eyes, not just a movement of her lips.

  When I finish putting on my tux, I decide to write another set of vows. Sixth time is the charm, right? Once I finish them, I begin to rehearse them. I think this time I got them just right.

  “I want you to know that I didn’t think I was the kind of person who could fall in love, but now that I have you, I can’t imagine life any other way. Love isn’t about the big, swooping gestures. It’s about waking up just a little bit earlier to get coffee while we watch the news together. It’s about trading off on the chores and responsibilities we hate and rewarding each other with smiles. Love is about finding someone who wants to go on that crazy journey of life together so you can support each other every step of the way. And I’m so happy I got—”

  Jack won’t stop tapping my fucking shoulder.

  I groan. “What part of let me rehearse my vows, is so fucking unclear, dude?”

  “It’s almost time,” he says. “Josslyn came to check on you.”

  Taking a deep breath, I lift my gaze from the paper. We’ve been standing just out of view from the guests for an hour now, behind some rose hedges. The botanical gardens look beautiful today.

  Everything’s so lush and green after the first rain of spring—which was last night and not this morning, thank fuck.

  A couple hundred of our closest friends, family, and Jack’s business contacts who absolutely had to be here, are all just beyond the hedges waiting for this shindig to start.

  “She’s late,” Jack informs me. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

  The guests aren’t the only people waiting for this to start.

  “Like what?’ I crook an eyebrow. We can’t start without her. “She’s still getting ready, so what?”

  “It’s been a while, Jason,” he says.

&nbs
p; Greta’s limo was supposed to arrive two hours ago. She still isn’t here. I scrub my face. The notecards I’m holding scratch me up a little, but I’m beyond fucks to give. But what if something happened to her?

  “Where is the bridal party?”

  “They are in the bridal sweet,” Jason informs me.

  My back tenses. What if something really happened to her?

  A car accident. Maybe she went to sleep last night and never woke up. I run through all the scenarios that would keep her away from us, but everything is just stupid.

  We texted each other earlier. I look at my phone again. There they are, our last messages.

  Jason: I can’t wait to spend to spend the rest of our lives together.

  Jason: Today is the day we begin our future.

  Greta: It’s a good day to start again.

  She’s just as excited as I am. Nothing happened to her. She’s not here because… I check the time. It’s ten thirty. The ceremony doesn’t start until eleven. What if she decided to get ready at home?

  Greta does everything at her own accord.

  “Dude, just—wait like a goddamn adult,” I finally snap.

  Jack furrows his brow, then shrugs. “So, you’re not worried?”

  “Of course, I am,” I whisper. “But it’s our wedding day. She can have some time if she needs it. This is a big fucking deal.”

  I couldn’t wait for the day to call her my wife, but I would wait a million years if I could finally call her mine. Except you can’t force anyone to be yours.

  My heart lurches when it’s thirty past noon and Josslyn approaches me to say, “They have to get the place ready for the next ceremony.”

  “What if she comes?”

  She hands me an envelope, “The limo just arrived. The driver had this for you.”

  The pain lassos my chest, yanking it tighter. I’m unable to breathe. All I’ve done since the moment I met this woman is love her. What else did she need from me? Under the gazebo decorated with blue flowers, I drop to the floor defeated.