“That was thoughtful of you, Barry.” She was building up her courage to tell him that she’d figured out another way to stay in the country that didn’t involve him having to marry her, when he said something that gave her pause.
“I really miss you, Genevieve. I wish you were here with me.”
Her body grew tense, and suddenly she didn’t have the heart to tell him about her plans to marry another man, not after what he’d just said and the longing with which he’d said it. It would probably be better to wait until he came back to New York after Labor Day and tell him in person. She swallowed hard before saying weakly, “Well, we’ve been all through that.”
“It’s just so beautiful up here. The sun’s just starting to set. Damn Candy for being so greedy,” he suddenly spat out. Then she heard his sigh over the wire. “It’s all right. We’ll get it wrapped up by Thanksgiving. I know you’re nervous about being caught, but you’ve got to hang on until then. It’ll be here before you know it. And next summer we’ll be here together.”
Genevieve couldn’t bear to hear him entertain thoughts of the two of them being married. Telling him they’d never get married wouldn’t work; she’d already told him that and he refused to accept it. She had to get through to him some other way. “Barry, I’m going out of town this weekend,” she said abruptly.
For a moment nothing but silence lay between them. “You are?” he asked, his tone an interesting mix of surprise and concern “The INS people haven’t caught up with you, have they?”
“No. It’s purely for fun. It...came up at the last minute. You see, I ran into an old friend of mine downtown, and she had plans to drive down to the Maryland shore, and she invited me to tag along.” She tried not to cringe at the lie. The only true part was that she had run into Cesca downtown. While buying wedding rings for her marriage to Dexter.
She hated all these lies and deceit, but this simply wasn’t the right time to tell Barry the truth.
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Wow, that really was a last-minute decision.” He paused. “So, do I get to meet your friend when I return?”
At that moment he sounded like a concerned father, wanting to know who she was running around with, rather than a prospective husband. Genevieve found his possessiveness disconcerting, but she brushed it away with all her other distress. “Eventually, of course.”
“What’s her name?”
She rolled her eyes. Barry’s questions were becoming annoying. What was he going to do, run a background check? “Francesca Perry. Her family lived a few blocks away from my father and me. We went to the same high school.”
“Does she know about your situation?”
“No. The fewer people who know about that, the better. I’m not about to go around advertising.”
“Wise decision. Be sure to bring your phone with you so I can call you, and for heaven’s sake, drive carefully. You don’t want any run-ins with the police.”
“Yes, I know.” Barry didn’t know the half of it. Cesca had a terrible experience with the police during her college years. She’d been driving home from Howard University for a weekend visit when the highway patrol pulled her over on Interstate Ninety-Five for allegedly speeding. They forced her to stand outside during a downpour while they did a thorough search of her expensive vehicle, a gift from her parents, obviously believing she’d paid for it with illegally earned funds. The experience had left her embittered of both police and traveling on that particular interstate.
“And be sure to call me when you get in,” he concluded.
She smiled, realizing he only wanted to make sure she was safe. “Yes, I’ll do that.” Barry was sweet to care about what happened to her. She couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel more for him than mere gratitude. She only knew that he deserved a wife who did feel more.
Genevieve spent the rest of the evening packing. Her plan was to return to her condo Sunday, after she and Dexter returned from their ‘honeymoon.’
She’d sort of miss sharing the floor with him. She still saw little of him—he’d told her his intent to give a full two weeks’ notice to the hospital and was still working both jobs—but since their lunch Saturday she’d cooked dinner every night and left him Post-It notes on the refrigerator door, telling him to try her new recipe or that she’d made way too much for just herself to consume. She also slipped a note under his door—where Brenda wouldn’t see it— letting him know what time to be ready Thursday morning.
Even without Dexter’s physical presence, there were signs of him everywhere, like crumpled paper towels in the bathroom wastebasket with bits of black curly hair on them, or his tube of toothpaste that laid on his assigned shelf on the narrow metal étagère, perennially uncapped, or evidence of his attempts to clean up. He didn’t do too badly in terms of straightening up, although he tended to use too much liquid. When he finished, everything glistened from excess water. More than once she’d jumped up in panic after sitting on a wet toilet seat and would have to use tissue to rub it dry.
She admired his dedication to responsibility, whether it be cleaning the bathroom or putting in a full two weeks’ notice at a job he no longer needed. With that type of work ethic, he’d be sure to succeed. If he became a famous malpractice attorney who regularly won millions for his clients, she’d be able to say one day that she was his first wife.
The thought unsettled her. She hadn’t set out to become anyone’s first wife...but that was the hand she’d been dealt. She had no recourse but to play along.
As Genevieve turned to retrieve a dress from the closet, she caught sight of a small white envelope on the floor near the door to her room. She picked it up. On the outside was a note from Dexter.
Her breath caught in her throat. Was he backing out?
She rapidly read the neat print on the outside of the envelope:
Jenny, I had one of the techs process this for me. Thought you might be interested. D.
Curious, she tore open the envelope. It appeared to be some type of medical record. The last date, Monday, was highlighted in yellow. Frown lines formed on her forehead. Why would he...
And then she saw that one word, circled in red pen, and everything suddenly made sense.
Negative.
He’d given her the results of a full STD screening.
When Dexter knocked on her bedroom door at nine the next morning, Genevieve resolved to say nothing about the lab testing he’d undergone. She’d told him they wouldn’t be sleeping together. Did he think he was actually going to get her to change her mind?
There wasn’t that much charm in the world to get her to complicate their relationship with sex. She was determined to ‘K.I.S.S.,’ as the Americans said: ‘Keep it simple, stupid.’
They left the brownstone in a cab at nine-fifteen. Stan and Brenda had both gone to work, and their children, enjoying the last of their summer breaks, tended to sleep in, so no one was around to see them leaving together. Their plan incorporated Dexter renting the car under his name and license, and she would pay for it with her corporate credit card. They’d be on the road by nine-forty-five, after the morning rush hour had passed.
When the man at the rental counter went over the types of vehicles they had in their fleet, Dexter impulsively suggested they rent a convertible. With an uncharacteristic rashness, Genevieve decided to go for it.
She put on her sunglasses and visor and settled in the passenger seat. As they drove across the George Washington Bridge, Genevieve learned that she liked feeling the breeze across her face, neck, and shoulders as they rode. Dexter also wore sunglasses, and the wind blew wide grooves in his hair, which she knew was quite soft from that one blissful time she felt it. He kept the windows in the upright position, which provided a shield against what could otherwise become an overpowering wind.
The warm August air made Genevieve forget her troubles and fears, reminding her in a soothing way that soon she would be free to move a
bout like any U.S. citizen, and not have to look over her shoulder.
“Any pre-wedding jitters?” he asked amiably.
“Not really.” She just felt relief that her long nightmare was about to end. There was plenty of time to regret what she had to do later.
Dexter spoke with his eyes fastened on the road in front of him. “I’m curious about something, Jenny. Don’t you trust Cesca?”
“Of course I do. We were best friends at one time. There aren’t a lot of black students at that Upper East Side private school. It was only natural for the few of us there to gravitate toward each other.”
“Then why have you avoided her all this time?”
“I wasn’t avoiding her,” she said, a tad defensively. “First of all, I thought she was in Atlanta. Second of all, there wouldn’t have been anything she could have done to help me. It’s just not a good idea to share your secrets with too many people, especially if they can get into trouble by merely knowing about it.”
“I can’t argue with that,” he said. “But didn’t you feel...well, a little lonely?”
“Yes,” she replied softly. “But there was nothing I could do about it, was there?”
“I’m sorry you had such a hard time, Jenny. But just remember that now...you’ve got a friend.” He sang the last four words to the tune of the James Taylor classic. His eyes left the road for a second to smile at her. She couldn’t see his eyes because of the dark lenses of his sunglasses, but she knew he was sincere. Just as she cared about him getting enough to eat, he cared about her being alone. It gave her a wonderful warm and tingly feeling.
“Dexter, I worked out a little game for us to play during the ride,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“It’s sort of an alphabet game. We’ll go from A to Z, and each of us has to name something we love and something we hate that starts with that letter. I figure it’ll be a fun way to learn about each other for the when the INS comes calling.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go first. ‘A’ is for apple crisp. Not apple pie, but apple crisp.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s apples baked with a crust, but not neatly arranged as in a pie. My grandmother makes a really good one. As for something I don’t like, that would be asparagus.”
“I love asparagus.”
“That’s fine. Just don’t put any of those nasty stalks on my plate if you ever cook me dinner.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said with a smile.
They went through the alphabet, and it didn’t surprise Genevieve that most of Dexter’s answers were related to food—he listed baklava, cherry cobbler, and Krispy Kreme doughnuts among his favorites. They both included things like TV, movie, and song titles, plus names of actors and actresses, in their likes and dislikes. They had a lot of fun as they learned about each other. It felt good to laugh like she hadn’t a care in the world as the wind swept by over her head.
He’ll make you laugh often.
Genevieve blinked. Her mother’s words just popped into her head with no warning. She decided it was because she and Dexter were, in essence, on their way to get married. She was getting confused by it all. Dexter might be the man she was marrying, but not the man she loved.
She stole a glimpse at his handsome profile, and the thought occurred to her that while she and Dexter were first and foremost friends, the lack of excitement she had in her relationship with Barry was hardly a problem when it came to Dexter.
They made just one stop along the way, at a gas station along the turnpike to put the convertible top back up. The early morning breeze had given way to an oppressive heat that made the wind uncomfortable. They arrived at Baltimore’s Inner Harbor a little past one. The harbor waters glistened like jewels in the sunlight, the sailboats bobbing atop it making for a postcard-perfect scene.
“Hey, nice digs,” Dexter said cheerfully after inspecting the two-room suite on the first floor of the five-story hotel, on the opposite wing from the banquet rooms. The bedroom portion, with its king bed and full bath, was separated by double doors from the rest of the suite, a kitchen, living room and another full bath. “How much did it cost?”
She told him. “Dexter, you asked me the same thing when we stopped to get gas. Why are you so curious?”
“I’ve got an inquiring mind.”
She didn’t understand his interest in the cost of their outing, but there wasn’t time to discuss it any further. “We need to find the license bureau.”
“It’ll probably be in the courthouse. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
She sighed. “No, but better a courthouse in Baltimore than a courthouse in New York.”
“Good girl,” he said.
“Let’s go get directions.”
“Did you plan on having the ceremony this afternoon as well?”
“Oh, I guess that can wait until tomorrow.” She glanced at the black nylon garment bag he’d laid across the bed, which she presumed held a suit. It made her glad to see he’d thought to pack something appropriate for a marriage ceremony, even a civil one, although she would have thought he’d cut off all that excess hair in favor of something more conservative. Both of them had worn shorts and t-shirts for the drive. “We really aren’t dressed properly,” she said. “Why don’t we just get the license squared away, and then we’ll go someplace nice for lunch. Someplace with an excellent assortment of desserts,” she added with a grin. Her smile faded when he didn’t return it. “Dexter? Is something wrong?” Fear gripped her heart for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Please, don’t let him back out now.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away. Then he focused on her, removed his right hand and gestured with his index finger. “C’mere.”
She slowly closed the distance between them, her panic escalating with every step. “I know something’s wrong. Tell me, Dexter.”
He reached for her hand and held it in both of his. She blinked rapidly, holding back tears. They’d driven all the way down here, and now that it was time to go take out a marriage license, he decided he couldn’t go through with it.
She knew it wouldn’t be fair to blame him. He had his future to think about. It had been foolish of her in the first place to even ask a law student to break the law.
Genevieve suddenly became aware of Dexter gently massaging her hand. He had large hands and long, tapered fingers, with spotlessly clean close-clipped fingernails. She swallowed hard, the tingling sensation making it impossible to think that his next words could mean it was all over for her.
Finally Dexter spoke. “I don’t have a dime, Jenny. I’ve exhausted my student loans, and my grandparents even mortgaged their house for me. All I have is a career that can’t begin until after I complete this last semester, and I was beginning to think that it might not ever happen. You don’t know how it feels to come so far and have that last little part be just out of your reach.
“I know I’ve done a lot of joking, but I want you to know that I’m just as grateful to you for doing what you’re doing as you are to me. And I also want you to know that I’m no gigolo. I’m not a kept man.”
She looked up at him with widened eyes. This didn’t sound like he was about to back out....
He increased the pressure slightly as he caressed her hand. “I make a promise to you, Jenny. One day I’m going to pay you back. And not just for my tuition.” He removed one hand from hers and made a sweeping gesture. “I mean everything. The car rental, the gas, the hotel room, hell, even the cost of the license and ceremony.” He gave her a shy smile. “I just want you to know that. It might take me a while, but it’s a promise, and I’m going to keep it.”
She shook her head. “Is that why you want to know how much everything costs?”
He pulled a small hardbound book, black with red corners, out of his pocket. “Here’s the log. I’m writing everything down and keeping a tally.”
She looked at the figures
in the book and then up at him. “Dexter...I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I was the one with something to say.” He grinned, looking like the Dexter she knew. Then he released her hand, giving her an oddly disconnected feeling, like her hand had been orphaned. “Now, let’s get this show on the road.”
Genevieve stared at the court clerk in dismay. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the man said politely. “There’s a waiting period of forty-eight hours from the time you get your license until you can be married. That would be Monday.”
“But we have to be back in New York by Monday morning. Isn’t there any way we can come back tomorrow for our ceremony?”
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. You wouldn’t want your marriage to be declared illegal, would you?”
She looked at him so stricken that he visibly twitched, obviously taken aback.
Dexter spoke up. “We understand. And thank you for your help.” He took her elbow. “C’mon, Jenny.”
She tried one more time. “It’s just that I’d heard that there’s no waiting period in Maryland. I guess I should have confirmed it.” She turned to Dexter. “I’m sorry. I guess I really messed up all our plans.”
“You do have an out,” the clerk said. “Virginia has no waiting period.”
She froze. “They don’t?”
“No blood tests, either. You can get your license and have your ceremony the same day. And you can be there in less than an hour.” The clerk smiled at them. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
They stepped aside to allow the next couple in line to speak with the clerk. “That might work, huh?” she said, a hopeful tinge in her voice.
“Sure it will. We can go down tomorrow morning, get the license, have the ceremony, and be back in Baltimore in time for lunch.”
Save the Best for Last Page 11