by Cat Lavoie
She smiles at me as if this makes all the sense in the world and I’d be a fool not to want my sister’s name disguised as my own on my wedding invitation. I can just imagine my relatives getting their invitations in the mail and scratching their heads. Which one is getting married again? Then they’d call my mom, who’d get mad at me for allowing this to happen. And then she’d ask me: who the hell is Mrs. James Rule? I’d get a speech about how she was Nora Quinn for the first twenty-four years of her life and she is not defined by her marriage to James Walford Rule and would therefore like to be addressed as Nora Quinn Rule, the PERSON not the property. I also have a feeling she would remind me of the twelve hours of painful labor she went through to bring me into this world. For some reason, it always comes up when Mom goes on a rant.
“Roxanne Isadora is not my name, Mrs. Covington,” I repeat, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead with the tips of my fingers. I’m getting a migraine.
“But Roxy is so ... so ...” Mrs. Covington begins, looking up at the ceiling, probably trying to come up with a word that is the perfect blend of disapproval and disgust.
“Mother. Please.” Ethan gets up from the couch and rushes to my side. I can’t bear to look at him. My cheeks feel as though they might catch fire at any second. “We can talk about this later. Roxanne and... I mean Roxy and I still have to discuss the details.”
“Yes, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, aren’t I? I just hope we can book the country club in time. You know that you have to book at least a year in advance?”
Ethan smiles at his mother but his tone is firm. “We can talk about it later.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Covington turns to me and smiles. “Have you thought about a dress yet, Roxy?”
I feel as though this is a test. Is it safe to tell her that I’ve been looking at dresses online? It might just make her head explode, which sounds appealing right about now. “I’ve been looking, but I’ll most likely go shopping with my sister Steffi. She thinks she knows a Vera Wang gown that would be perfect for me.” I smile as I remember how excited Steffi was when we talked about wedding dresses.
“Steffi. She’s the pregnant one, right?” Mrs. Covington’s tone is flippant and rude.
I shift in my seat. “Steffi is pregnant. Yes.”
“She and her husband must be very excited.”
Why do I feel like she’s setting me up? Let’s put all the Rule family’s dirty laundry on display. I look at Ethan but he’s fidgeting with a button on his shirt. After a few seconds—when it becomes painfully obvious that my fiancé is not going to step in—I clear my throat and try to find the best way to put it. “My sister has decided to have the baby on her own.” There.
I can see a faint smile on Mrs. Covington’s lips. “I see. I hope the father has expressed interest in being part of his child’s life.”
I stare at Ethan until he stops examining his shoes and looks up at me. I hope the expression on my face translates into exactly what I want it to mean. If you don’t do something right now, you are never touching me again.
“Mother. I think that’s enough questions for now. I’m sure Steffi would love it if you came along on the shopping expedition. You’d get to meet her and see how great she is. She’ll help pick a beautiful dress for Roxy.”
What? How did this conversation turn into an invitation for Mrs. Covington to tag along? She’s the last person I want there. She’ll probably call Peanut ‘the unborn bastard’ or something. I try to smile but my mouth refuses to move. “We’d love to have you,” I say. My stomach lets out a growl. I suspect it’s more out of disgust than hunger.
“Thank you, but I’ll let you girls go on your own. I think it might be a good idea if you lost a bit of weight before going shopping, though. I highly doubt that Vera Wang makes plus-sizes. Let me go see how dinner’s coming along.” She gives me a tight smile and leaves the room.
I don’t even want to look at Ethan because I’m afraid I might start screaming. Tears start to sting my eyes. But I’m not sad, I’m angry. My shoulders tense up when Ethan tries to put his arm around them.
“Don’t listen to Mother. This is hard for her. She doesn’t believe in divorce, let alone getting married again.”
I give in and let him wrap his arms around me. I want to tell Ethan that I’m tired of living in Evil Vic’s shadow and feeling as though I’ll never be good enough for his family. But I can’t muster the courage to say anything. When I bring Ethan’s face down to mine and kiss him, he rubs his thumb against my cheek and wipes away a wayward tear. I smile and kiss him again before he takes my hand and escorts me to the kitchen. Despite his mother and despite our disagreements, I love Ethan. And he loves me. That has to be enough, right?
Thankfully, the dinner goes by very fast. I try to keep my mouth busy with food to avoid participating in conversation. The Covingtons have a personal chef and—even though I lost my appetite during the pre-dinner conversation—I inhale every bite of the delicious menu. Cream of mushroom soup followed by a warm goat cheese salad and marinated pork tenderloin and roast potatoes with crème brûlée for dessert.
After the meal is over, I try to make small talk with Mrs. Covington over coffee, but I barely listen as she tells me about a fundraiser she attended earlier in the week. Apparently, a few celebrities turned up and she rattles off the names of people I’ve never heard of. I smile and nod and laugh when appropriate, but pretending that I don’t hate this woman’s guts makes me feel exhausted and drained and I can’t wait to go back home. So when Ethan mentions that he has to get up early in the morning, I agree with him that we should leave. I kiss my future mother-in-law so quickly that my cheek barely touches her cheek for half a second and I almost run down the hallway to the elevator.
It’s raining when Ethan and I step outside and we rush to the car. Without a word, Ethan guides us into the street and we’ve only been driving for a minute when we stop behind a long line of cars. An ambulance whizzes by us, sirens blaring.
“There must be an accident up ahead,” Ethan sighs.
I nod in agreement and start fiddling with the radio, trying to find something good to listen to. After a few boring stations and lots of static, I give up and switch it off. It’s a sad day when even the Golden Oldies station can’t ease my mind. I’d been hoping that ‘My Girl’ or some other song we love would be playing and I’d catch a glimpse of Ethan smiling from the corner of my eye and we’d start singing at the top of our lungs and completely out of tune. Instead, I sit back and watch the fat drops of rain splatter against the windshield. After a few seconds the wiper glides across and erases them and new drops come down. I try to count them but the rain starts falling harder and I can’t keep up.
I hate this silence. I hate that I want to say something, anything, but my mind is blank. I fish out some gum from my purse. Ethan looks up at me when I offer him a piece and I can see that something’s not right. The silence is going to be broken and I’m not too sure I want it to be.
“I’ve heard Oliver call you Roxanne.” He keeps his eyes on the road even though we haven’t moved an inch in the last ten minutes. “How come he can do it but my mother can’t?”
My heart sinks. I take in a deep breath and let it out. “Because Ollie does it to be funny, not because he thinks my name is too trashy for the country club.”
Ethan just nods, still looking at the road. “She’s my mother, Roxy. I’m not saying she’s right about everything, but I’m just asking you to make an effort. You’re so convinced that she hates you that you don’t even give her a chance.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So I just tell him what he wants to hear. “Fine. I’ll try harder.” The words almost get caught in my throat and I have to take deep breaths to stop myself from crying. Why does this have to be so difficult?
I know Ethan resents the fact that I don’t love his family as much as he loves mine but, to be fair, my family made him one of their own as soon as I brought him home. Dad and Ethan bond
ed over their love of hockey—even though my father almost had a heart attack when Ethan announced that he was a New York Rangers fan. This was the equivalent of telling my dad—a life-long New Jersey Devils fan—that he skinned puppies on the weekend. They argued over statistics and predictions and Dad brought out his card collection and Ethan told him how much they’d be worth on eBay. He even charmed my mom by helping to set the table and calling her Nora instead of Mrs. Rule (which I’d instructed him to do beforehand). From that day on, Ethan became the son they never had. Well, the second son. After Ollie.
But instead of being the daughter Prudence Covington never had, I feel like I’ve become the daughter she never wanted, an unplanned and undesired pregnancy.
I stare out into the dark street and my mind wanders back to the day Ethan proposed to me. He was hosting his weekly radio show called “Money Matters with Ethan Covington” and I was back home listening out of loyalty but also because Ethan sometimes quizzed me on what he’d talked about on the show and I didn’t want to mess up. At the end of his segment on retirement savings he said, “Speaking of preparing for your future, I’ve decided to prepare mine by asking a lovely lady to spend the rest of her life with me. She’s made the last four months incredibly exciting. So, here it goes. Roxy Rule, will you marry me? The phone line is open. I’m waiting for your call.”
It took me a few seconds to realize that he was talking to me but once I did, I jumped off the couch and started running around the apartment looking for my phone. I usually leave it on a small table next to the door but it wasn’t there. When the cushions started ringing, I pulled them off the couch and flung them across the room.
“Get off the phone, Mom,” I said, my heart beating so fast I could feel it in my throat. I knew Mom would be listening; she loves Ethan’s show.
“Are you going to call him?”
“I am. As soon as I get off the phone with you.”
“I just wanted to tell you that Ethan dropped by last week and asked for your father’s blessing. You know how I find these things terribly old-fashioned and patriarchal but your father was very pleased. So if this is what you want, you have both of our blessings.”
“This is what I want,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“Okay, then. Call the man.”
I hung up the phone and dialed the station’s number with trembling fingers. I had to start over three times. Ethan picked up mid-way through the first ring.
“Darling, I’m so glad you called.” There was a hint of tension in his voice and I wondered if he was worried that I wasn’t listening, or worse, that I wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted to hear.
“Am I on the air?” I whispered.
Ethan laughed. “No, you’re not... we’re on a commercial break right now. So, do you have an answer for me?”
“Can you repeat the question?”
He cleared his throat. “Roxy Rule, will you marry me?”
“Yes, I will marry you.”
After the show ended, I waited for Ethan on the front steps of my building. I flung myself into his arms and he led me up to the empty apartment where we made love until the sun started creeping through the blinds and we were both too exhausted to move.
Before the bank sent me that letter for the credit counseling class and I met Ethan, I was convinced I’d stay single and alone forever. After a series of particularly bad first dates, I’d given up on men and started considering cat adoption. Tali and Adam tried to pull me out of my funk by dragging me to clubs, but I always ended up in some dark corner sipping a drink by myself. Emma took me to one of her yoga classes but I slipped during downward facing dog and sprained my wrist. So I gave up. And even though Adam warned me that Mr. Right wouldn’t come find me in my apartment while I watched cooking shows in pajamas with a half-gallon of ice cream, it turned out he was wrong. I was saved by the bank.
I remember being totally and obnoxiously happy those first few weeks after Ethan proposed. Being in love. Being sure of everything. Being sure of me. I want to go back to those peaceful moments right before we started arguing about the wedding and money and everything else. I want to go back to the time where Ethan would send me flowers at work for no reason and the girls from the Art Department looked at me with envy in their eyes. She’s got a perfect boyfriend and she’s not even skinny.
Ethan was my dream come true. So why am I sitting in a car with him, on the verge of tears, feeling more alone than ever? Maybe Ollie was right after all. Maybe this is too soon, too fast.
I’m knocked out of my daydream as our car lurches forward and the cars in front of us start moving. Ethan looks over at me. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, feeling anything but.
Ethan makes a turn and we finally escape the slow and steady traffic. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You know, I don’t want to get married at the country club either. If I have my way, I’m going to marry you on a beach overlooking a beautiful Caribbean sunset.”
I don’t know which realization makes me angrier: the fact that he still wants to get married far from everyone we love or the blatant admission that he can’t stand up to his mother.
Before I can stop them, my eyes roll up to the ceiling and I make a face. Not the most mature reaction in the world but it’s better than saying what I really think, which involves telling him where he can stick his beautiful Caribbean sunset.
Ethan doesn’t say a word but I can almost see the steam billowing out of his ears. I want to say something but I’m afraid I’ll only make it worse.
“Okay,” he says, and before I can ask him what he means, he drives into a gas station parking lot and stops the car.
“We need gas?” I ask, hopeful.
“No. We need to talk,” he says, finally looking at me. He shakes his head and chuckles to himself. “You win. We’ll have the wedding in a church. I’ll tell my mother to forget about the country club and we’ll have the reception wherever you want.”
He smiles at me but I can’t smile back. “I don’t want to win. I want us to discuss and agree on something.”
“I’m agreeing with you that we should get married in a church with our families. Isn’t this what you want?”
“Yes, but I know it’s not what you want and you’re just agreeing with me to make me happy.”
“Darling, at the end of the day, all I want is to be married to you. I don’t really care that you’re making me do something I don’t want to do. I’ll suck it up and go through with it and you can make it up to me on our wedding night.”
He winks at me but I can’t help but roll my eyes again. “Yeah, well, excuse me if I’m not too enthusiastic at the idea of having to make something up to you on our wedding day.”
He sighs. “Roxy, I don’t know what you want me to tell you, but I need this to be over now. I can’t stand us arguing about this all the time. Are we getting married in a church or on the beach? What’s it going to be? You make the call.”
“Neither.” My heart starts beating a little faster. He’ll never agree to this but I might as well try.
Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales deeply. “What do you mean neither?”
I take a deep breath. “I’d like to get married at my parent’s house. The backyard is big enough and we could still keep it small and simple.” I look up at him and see that he’s actually thinking about it. Even though Prudence Covington would have a coronary if she knew her son was considering getting married in some backyard in New Jersey, he hasn’t dismissed the idea.
“A home wedding it is,” Ethan says after a few seconds, pulling me close and kissing me. “But you know we’re going to have to go to St. Thomas for the honeymoon because I can’t get my money back.”
“Of course.”
“How about a fall wedding?” he asks, playing with a strand of my hair.
Fall has always been my favorite season. I smile. “I think that next fall sounds perfect.”
He pulls a
way from me. I look up at him, worried. “What’s wrong?”
“I know it’s short notice, but I was hoping to do it sooner rather than later. I’m sure you and your sisters can get everything ready by the end of September or the beginning of October.”
I stare at him, hearing the words he’s saying but not understanding them. “October? Of this year?”
“Exactly.”
My brain becomes a blur of random images. Piles of wedding magazines, wedding dresses that don’t fit, florists that can’t be booked in time, bridesmaids dresses in a hideous shade of Autumn Leaf Yellow, Ollie not being able to fly over, a photographer who doesn’t show up...
“No. No. No. I can’t, we can’t... It’s too soon,” I say, shaking my head and echoing Ollie’s words even though I don’t mean them in the same way.
Ethan looks away and I know I’ve hurt him. “Whatever makes you happy, Roxy. Take all the time you need. I hear weddings in retirement homes are really fun.”
I would laugh if it wasn’t for the edge in his voice. Instead, I just sit back as Ethan starts the car and drives towards my apartment.
After a few minutes, he takes a hand off the steering wheel and squeezes my arm gently. “I’m really sorry. You’re right, there’s no need to rush into this. Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks.
I can see in his face that if we go back to his place, we won’t sleep a wink. Tali often teases me about having ‘wild banker sex’ with Ethan, but even though there’s no hanging from the chandeliers involved, it’s nice and comforting and familiar. But this evening has been such a rollercoaster ride that all I want to do is disappear under the covers and sleep.
“I think I just want to go home.”
He smiles at me and I reach out to squeeze his hand. “As soon as we’re married, my home will soon be your home. Our home.”
“I know. I’m really looking forward to it.” As hard as I try, my voice still sounds flat. I know it. I’m sure he knows it too because he untangles his hand from mine and places it back on the steering wheel.