Single Dad's Bride

by Melinda Minx

  I pause, look around the circle, and then ask, “Should I keep going?”

  “No,” Irena says. “What do we all think of this passage?”

  Jessica raises her hand. “It sounds, to me at least, that Jesus is telling us how sinful it is to give into our desires before marriage. Don’t you agree, Deacon?”

  “Uh,” I say. “It’s pretty clear, right?” I look over past Jessica, to Rita. “Though it sounds like Jesus is also saying that it’s better to rush into marriage than to let passion—sin—consume you.”

  Rita crosses her arms. “I don’t think Jesus is telling us to rush into marriage here, Deacon. That’s misinterpreting the spirit of the word. Also, there would have to be passion present in the first place to justify rushing into a marriage, wouldn’t there?”

  She’s got a sharp tongue for such a wholesome woman.

  “Oh?” I ask. “What do you think, Irena?”

  Irena blushes. “Um, I wouldn’t use the word ‘rush,’ myself, but I do think that it’s better to marry young. The passion this verse speaks of is, um, more difficult to resist when we’re young. Young people are more vulnerable to the throes of passion, which is only a sin if we let it control us. Marriage is a way to control our passions in a way that sits right with the Lord.”

  “Exactly,” I say.

  Jessica perks up, and says in a flat voice, as if she’s reciting something she memorized, “He who finds a wife finds what is good...and receives favor from the Lord.”

  She looks up at me through her lashes, smiling.

  Rita coughs. “Proverbs, but also in Proverbs, it says, ‘A wife of noble character is her husband’s crown, but a disgraceful wife is like a decay in his bones.’”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Rita?” Jessica asks, scowling.

  Everyone else seems to be looking nervously around the room.

  “Nothing,” Rita says. “I’m just saying that the Bible tells us that not all wives are good. Just like not all husbands are good.”

  It goes on like that, quite awkwardly, for a good hour. Jessica keeps laying it on me thick, and Rita looks more and more agitated as they duel each other with Bible verses. Each verse we read keeps hitting some kind of nerve, and I’m just glad that they’re fighting with Bibles rather than switchblades.

  I’m most thankful that I’m not sitting between them.

  When the Bible reading finally ends, there are donuts and coffee in the lobby. Everyone lets as loose as you can let loose wearing polos and khakis, and they chat about non-Bible stuff before leaving.

  “I changed my mind,” Rita huffs. “Jessica isn’t right. She’s not really wholesome.”

  I arch an eyebrow at her. I look over at Jessica, who is filling up a cup of coffee. “Why not? I’ve got like twenty-eight days, Rita, she’s got fucking—freaking—Bible verses memorized in her head. That’s like five times more wholesome than any woman I’ve ever met other than you.”

  “She’s full of crap,” Rita says. “She pretends to be all pious, but she’s hooked up with like every single guy in Bible study.”

  I laugh. “If these crew-cut guys cannot control their passion, then better to marry—”

  She elbows my ribs. “Shut up, Deacon. Seriously, though, how is that going to look to the judge?”

  “She’s good at playing up that she’s wholesome,” I say. “I’ll take what I can get. It’s her, or it’s one of the girls whose tits I just tattooed.”

  Jessica comes back over to where we’re standing before Rita can get another word in. “So,” she says. “This whole marriage thing…”

  “I think Deacon found another solution—”

  “No,” I say. “I really need a wife. Fast.”

  “And Deacon,” Jessica says, licking her lips. “Since I’m a Christian, you know we’d need to consummate the marriage, even though you’re saying it’s fake…”

  Rita sighs very loudly, then grinds her teeth.

  “I just have this passion burning in me,” Jessica says. “And it wouldn’t be right to act on it without—”

  “Come on, Jessica,” Rita says. “You don’t have to pretend—”

  “What are you implying?” Jessica snaps.

  “A few weeks ago,” Rita says. “With Dave.”

  Jessica rolls her eyes. “We didn’t go all the way.”

  I laugh. “Give me your number, Jessica.”

  “We could go out now…it’s still early.”

  “No can do,” I say. “I gotta get my daughter ready for bed. I’ll call you, though.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re so sure of that…” She writes her number down on a slip of paper and hands it to me.

  I give her a polite smile. The way Rita looks so jealous, I’m wondering if I’ve got her hooked on my line and all I need to do is just reel her in. Shit, maybe the best way of doing that is playing it up with Jessica now?

  “I’ll definitely call you,” I say. “I’ve got some burning passion, too, and marriage is the only way for that not to be a sin.”

  She licks her lips. “Totally.”

  Rita starts tapping her foot.

  “I’ll definitely call you, Jessica,” I say. “I need a wife, and you definitely look like a future Mrs. Shepherd to me.”

  I can nearly hear the steam blasting out of Rita’s ears. Perfect.

  “Well,” I say. “We gotta get rolling. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Don’t let that passion die out,” Jessica says, winking at me.

  “It won’t.”

  Once we’re in the parking lot, Rita says, “Really? You’re seriously going to marry her?”

  “I told you, I don’t have a choice. I can’t be picky at this point.”

  “I was thinking about it,” Rita says. “Really thinking hard. And...I can’t let Elsie risk losing her dad.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, feigning surprise.

  “I mean,” she says, “I don’t think Jessica will convince the judge, but I think I can.”

  “But you said just the other night that you can’t possibly marry me…”

  “I know,” she says. “But you kind of sprung it on me out of nowhere. I’ve had time to process it. I’ve thought about what it really means for Elsie.”

  “So it’s all just about Elsie then?” I ask, grinning smugly. “Nothing else?”

  She scoffs.

  We’re standing next to my bike now. I take my jacket off and hand it to her. “You’ll still need this.”

  She puts it on and looks up at me. “Were you bullshitting Jessica about that burning passion?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, sure. You ever felt that?”

  She bites her lip and looks away. “Deacon, I’m serious. I know you’re running out of time. And I’m seriously running out of money and I need a place to live. As much as I want to help Elsie...I need to do this. So let’s do it.”

  “It?” I ask, grinning. “Marriage, you mean?”

  “Yes,” she says. “Of course that’s what I mean. And no, we do not have to consummate it.”

  “You heard what that verse in Dude Heretomy said—”

  “Deuteronomy, idiot.”

  “Anyway,” I say. “A man’s body does not belong to him, nor does a wife’s, we will belong to each other, one flesh and one blood...I know I’m butchering the verse, but—”

  “Yes,” she says. “You are butchering it. Quit while you’re ahead.”

  “So,” I say. “When are we getting married?”

  “After I tell my parents,” she says.

  My eyes widen. “Your parents...do I have to like, ask your father’s permission or whatever?”

  “No,” she says. “They are furious with me. And I’m not exactly thrilled with them. I just need to tell them. I’m finally marrying someone who is financially stable.”

  “You going to tell them I run a tattoo shop? Aren’t they like stick-up-the-ass Christians?”

  “No,” she says. “That’s me you’re thinking of.
I didn’t get it from them. They are just...financially minded.”

  “Ah,” I say. “My parents were like that. They freaked out when I got into tattooing, but they were cool with it once the big money started rolling in.”

  Rita laughs. “Yeah, I remember Anna complaining about that.”

  “Well,” I say. “Let’s get going. I gotta get Elsie to bed. She doesn’t like sleeping without me reading her a story.”

  Rita smiles. “I’ll tell my parents tomorrow...we can set up the rest later.”

  “I’ll get you a ring before you go see them,” I say.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Financially minded, you said,” I cut in. “Of course you need a ring to put them at ease. A good one.”

  She sighs. “Just make sure it has a good return policy.”

  8

  Rita

  Deacon smiles when he opens the door and invites me in. Anna and Elsie are in the kitchen, and he invites me in. He falls down on one knee and holds up a container.

  “Rita,” he says. “Will you marry me?”

  He pops open the container, and a diamond much bigger than I expected to see assaults my eyes.

  “Geez, Deacon,” I say. “That thing is way too big.”

  “That’s what Stacy said,” he says, grinning. “The first time we slept—”

  Anna smacks him across the back, and he shuts his mouth.

  “Well?” he asks, “Will you?”

  “Say ‘I do!’” Elsie says, giggling.

  “That’s for the wedding,” Deacon says. “She’s supposed to say ‘yes!’ to this question. So, Rita, say it.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  He stands up and takes out the ring from the box. “Hold out your hand.”

  I obey, and he slides the ring onto my left ring finger. It fits snugly.

  “I helped him get the right size,” Anna says. “This is just crazy.”

  I look down at Elsie, who is clapping her hands. I whisper to Anna and Deacon, “Why is she so cool with this?”

  “Sweetie,” Deacon says, looking down at Elsie. “You remember what we said about this whole thing, right?”

  “Yes,” she says, nodding. “We’re playing house. Ms. Rita is gonna pretend to be your wife, and pretend to be sort of like my mom. Even though Aunt Anna is already sort of like my mom. So Rita will be like my second aunt.”

  “Good,” Deacon says. “And you see everyone in this room right now? Who do you see?”

  “Uh,” Elsie says. “I see you, Aunt Anna, Ms. Rita, and me…”

  “Let’s not call her Ms. Rita anymore,” Anna says. “Just call her Rita.”

  “Okay,” Elsie says, looking up nervously at me.

  “All those people you just named,” Deacon says, “those are the only people who know we are pretending. For anyone else, you need to say and act like it’s real. So at school, you should tell your friends and teachers that your dad got married.”

  “I should lie?” Elsie asks. “You told me never to lie, especially to grown-ups.”

  Deacon and Anna give each other nervous looks. I’m suddenly getting worried that this is going to be a lot more morally ambiguous than I’d expected. There’s no turning back now, though.

  “It’s just pretend,” Anna says. “There’s a difference between lying and pretending, and—”

  “This is lying,” Deacon says. “Look, Elsie, you’re getting older, and I don’t want to lie to you, too. Sometimes you have to lie, but it’s important that you always feel bad about it. I feel bad about doing this, but I have to do it, so that we can stay together.”

  “So lying is okay if you do it for good stuff?” Elsie asks.

  “Yes,” Deacon says. “But it has to be a really good reason, do you understand?”

  “I think so,” she says. “Is Rita going to be my new mom?”

  I feel my heart almost shatter in my chest. How do I even respond to that?

  “No,” Deacon says. “Remember, it’s all pretend. No one can replace your mom.”

  “I don’t really remember Mom,” Elsie says. “I wouldn’t mind having a new one.”

  Deacon sighs. “Look, Elsie, this is complicated, and I’m sorry to spring it all on you. Rita isn’t your mom, though. It’s pretend.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Can I go play with my toys now?”

  “Sure, go ahead,” Deacon says.

  I feel like I’m about to cry. “It’s so sad…”

  “Not as sad as Stacy’s parents taking her away from me,” Deacon says. “And forcing her to do those fucking children’s beauty pageants.”

  “What made you change your mind?” Anna asks me, a puzzled look on her face. “I wouldn’t have changed my mind if I was in your shoes.”

  I think of the truth. That seeing Jessica flirting up a storm with Deacon made me green with envy. Which itself is a sin. Still, thinking of Deacon “consummating” his stupid, fake marriage with Jessica drove me up the wall.

  Not that I’m going to sleep with him. He wanted a wholesome wife, and that’s what he’s getting with me.

  “I just couldn’t bear the thought of Elsie being taken away,” I say.

  It’s not a lie. Though it wasn’t the main thing that drove me to change my mind.

  “You sure I shouldn’t go with you when you tell your parents that we’re getting married?” Deacon asks.

  “I’m sure,” I say.

  “Alright,” Deacon says. “I’m going with you, then.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I gotta meet your parents, and how will it look if we get married and I haven’t even met them? Like what the hell would that be, then?”

  “Let’s see,” I say, “It would be… A fake marriage? And that’s what it is.”

  “It would look unconvincing,” Deacon says. “That’s what, and that won’t do.” He grabs hold of my hand and starts leading me to the door. “Let’s go!”

  I follow him out to the driveway and get on the bike with him again. My car is at his friend’s body shop, getting fixed for free. I cling tight to him by wrapping my arms around his waist, just like last night. I’m not as afraid anymore of the bike ride itself, but I find myself just wanting to hold tight to Deacon’s body. I can feel his hard-as-rock abs where I’m grasping his torso, and I find that pressing up against his muscular back is oddly comforting.

  We reach my parents’ place after a 20-minute drive. I had called them earlier and told them I had some news, but I had chickened out about telling them over the phone. I’ll have to spring it on them in person. Deacon being here actually helps the situation, because his presence makes it impossible for me to back out of telling them.

  My parents must have heard us pull up because they’ve come outside the two-story house before we’re even off the bike. They’re standing only a few feet away from where Deacon parked the bike, looking at us with baffled expressions on their face.

  “Rita?” my dad asks. He’s so confused, he’s tilting his head like a dog.

  “What’s this all about?” Mom asks.

  “Who’s this?” Dad asks.

  “Deacon Shepherd,” he says, reaching his right hand out to shake my dad’s, and then my mom’s, hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Deacon?” my mom asks. “Anna’s brother? Didn’t you say—?” She realizes what she was about to say, then shuts her mouth, thinking better of it.

  “Didn’t you say that Deacon’s business is doing quite well for itself?” Dad says, his eyes lighting up. I roll my eyes. Of course the first question out of his mouth would be about money.

  “It sure is,” Deacon says, giving my Dad a huge, shit-eating grin. His white teeth gleam in the late afternoon sun.

  “So, are you two...dating?” my mom asks.

  “We’re engaged,” Deacon says.

  I elbow him.

  “What?” he asks. “We came here to tell them—”

  “We’ve been dating a long time,” I say, talking ov
er Deacon. “I didn’t think you’d approve...so I didn’t tell you.”

  Dad scoffs, and Mom scowls.

  “Why would we not approve?” Dad asks. “Let me see that ring.”

  “Geez!” I shout. “Seriously? Here, look,” I say, sticking the ring up into their faces. “Want to hire a jeweler to examine it? To determine if Deacon’s income is up to your standards?”

  Deacon puts a hand on the small of my back. His grip feels protective and solid, and it helps to calm me down. A little bit at least.

  “Don’t be such a child,” my mom snaps. “I just want to see what a pretty ring it is.”

  “Right,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Let’s all calm down,” Dad says. “We can go inside for coffee and talk this over.”

  All calm down. He’s just talking to me.

  “Sounds good,” Deacon says. “I love coffee.”

  Once inside, my dad fires up his overcomplicated espresso machine. He can’t just make normal coffee like everyone else.

  “You want a regular espresso, Deacon?” my dad asks. “Or I can cap it off with some foamed milk—”

  “Regular is fine,” Deacon says.

  “Rita?” my dad asks, turning to look at me.

  “Regular,” I say, sounding bored.

  “I heard you got fired from your job,” my dad says, as he’s messing with the coffee grinder. “Good thing you won’t have to worry about that sort of thing anymore.”

  I bite my tongue and do my best not to say anything. I know that if I start arguing with him here, I’ll pass the point of no return. I’ll just get more and more annoyed, and the whole point of coming here will be pointless.

  “The wedding is next week,” Deacon says. “We’re keeping it small...only close friends and family.”

  “Why’s that?” my mom asks. “Can’t you afford a large reception?”

  “Of course,” Deacon says. “But the big giant wedding thing just isn’t my speed, or Rita’s. I just want the people Rita and I really care about there. Not a bunch of people we barely talk to or haven’t seen in five years, you know?”

  “I suppose…,” my mom says. “It’s just—”