Married to the Manny

by Daisy May

  “She does.”

  They were the last words I heard before I fell into a fitful sleep.

  *

  “Hey, kiddo,” I said when I picked Kerry up from school the next day.

  She got in the car without looking at me. After buckling her seatbelt and placing her backpack on her lap, she clenched her little hands into fists.

  “How was your day?” I tried.

  Still no response.

  I turned out of the parking lot, waving at the crossing guard. “Are you giving me the silent treatment?”

  “I don’t talk to liars,” Kerry finally spat.

  “Hey!” I brought the car over to the side of the road, pulling up the parking brake so I could turn to her. “You know your dad and I only lied so I could stay here with the two of you. He explained that, didn’t he?”

  Crossing her arms in front of her, she studiously avoided my eyes.

  “We did this for you. That doesn’t make it right, but that’s why we did it.”

  “So it’s okay to lie?”

  “Only sometimes… very occasionally… if the lie isn’t going to hurt anybody, and if it’s really necessary…” I wished Cole was here to give her this talk. I was sure he’d do better at it than I was currently doing.

  “Fine,” Kerry said.

  “And we love each other very much. We loved each other right from the start, but we both thought the other one didn’t. We were just being silly. Silly billies.”

  Kerry didn’t laugh.

  “So it doesn’t matter if we started off lying. Everything is true now. So everything is fine.”

  Letting out a loud exhale, Kerry turned to face me for the first time. I perked up, excited that I was getting through to her.

  Except all she said was, “Can we go home yet?”

  I sighed and pulled back onto the road. Maybe Cole could have another talk with her at some point, because I wasn’t sure what to do anymore. The kid was hurt, and apparently she could hold a grudge.

  When we got home, Kerry made a beeline for her room without even taking off her shoes.

  “Wait!” I said. “Shoes, first of all, and then come to the kitchen. I want to talk to you a little more.”

  Her face pinched up, her movements as slow as possible, she obeyed.

  “I’m not going to dwell on this,” I said when she met me at the kitchen table. “I just want to make sure of something. You’re not going to tell any of your friends about how my marriage to your daddy started, right?”

  “No.”

  “Not Francesca, not anybody?”

  “That’s what I said,” she snapped.

  “All right.” I’d never seen her like this before, and God, it was tearing me apart. “You won’t tell your mom? Or anybody else you know?”

  “No.”

  “And if the immigration office wants to talk to you, what are you going to say to them?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, then looked at the floor. “That you and Daddy are in love.”

  “Perfect.” I rubbed the back of my hand across my forehead, which had somehow gotten sweaty. I still wished Kerry would forgive us, but now I felt more confident we’d get there eventually. A weight had come off my chest. “Go play for now. I’ll help you with your homework later.”

  “Okay, Gordon.”

  Not Gordy, I noticed. But we’d get back to that. One step at a time.

  Twenty—Cole

  There was something about Gordon in a suit. He looked good in anything he wore—there was no type of clothing that wouldn’t flatter the incredible body he had. But the suit he had on, the same one he’d worn to our wedding, draped perfectly over the solid muscle of his ass.

  Then he turned to face me, and I burst into laughter. “God, you look ten times younger when you’re clean-shaven.”

  His emerald eyes flashed, and he shoved me lightly in the chest. “You’re saying I look two point seven years old?”

  I backed against the bedroom door. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Two point seven,” he hissed.

  I put both arms around him, squeezing that butt as hard as I could. “Come here, you sexy toddler.” I nipped his bare cheek. “Give me a smile, already. I’m trying to lighten the mood.”

  “That’s not even possible. We’re going to be at that interview in less than an hour.”

  “And then it’ll be over forever and you’ll be one step closer to your green card,” I said. “So stop sulking and give me a kiss.”

  He gave me a reluctant peck. “We don’t know if we’ll pass.”

  “How could we not? We’re a couple… we’re in love…” I jiggled his ass. “We love every single part of each other.”

  “Yeah, but we didn’t start off that way and you know it.” He stepped away, out of reach of my groping hands. “Let me worry now. I’ll be in a good mood once we have something to celebrate.”

  “I’m just glad it’s not going to be weighing on us anymore.”

  “Except I could get deported!”

  I swallowed. He was right. As adorable as he looked without any facial hair, and as sexy as he was in that suit, I had to be serious for now. This wasn’t over yet.

  “Is there anything else we need to practice?” I asked. “You want to go through the first date part again?”

  We’d been going over potential interview questions over and over, making sure we had our story straight. At first it kept leading to laughter and erotic re-enactments, but for the last few days we’d done it in complete seriousness.

  “I don’t think there’s any time. We need to grab Kerry and get in the car.”

  Right… Kerry. They’d requested her attendance personally. Talbot was meeting us there, too—moral support, he said.

  We managed to pack ourselves up and get into the car. Gordon had just shut his door when he cursed. “I forgot the email print-outs!” He ran back to get them, Kerry staying oddly quiet the whole time.

  I turned the radio on as we drove, tapping my thumbs to the music. My stomach was churning, though, and my heart wasn’t in it. When Kerry asked me to turn the volume down, I turned it off instead.

  Eventually we got to the immigration office. Talbot was already outside waiting, and he squeezed my elbow a little too hard as he guided us inside. “Just act natural,” he said into my ear. “You two have nothing to worry about.”

  I gave him a weak smile. “Thanks.” Leaving Kerry with him, Gordon and I found office 202. The nameplate on the door said Edwin Hernandez. Inside, a stout, middle-aged Latin man shook each of our hands a little too firmly.

  “Take a seat,” he said.

  We sat in the hard-backed chairs. The room was windowless and oddly cold. I wondered if this was a repurposed interrogation room. I could almost feel a blinding fluorescent light shining in my eyes.

  “Mr. Hofstetter and Mr. Bruin.” Edwin paged through our file. “Married for two months.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gordon fidgeted with the emails, folding and unfolding the corner of each page.

  “I’m sure you understand why we wanted to meet with you today,” Edwin said. “Mr. Bruin, you were sent a letter stating that you were about to be deported to Canada, and then you got married immediately after. You see how it could look a bit suspicious?”

  “Of course, but it isn’t,” I said quickly. “We’d already been dating for a while, and we felt very strongly about each other. The possibility of deportation may have sped up the process of making it official, but we were already planning on it anyway.”

  “I see.” Edwin flipped a few pages, his brow slightly furrowed. “It says here you met in September.”

  “When I hired him,” I confirmed.

  “And you’ve been dating since March.”

  “After the Easter long weekend,” Gordon said nervously. “When I went away, Cole emailed me. I have all the emails right here.”

  We’d gone through them before printing them, carefully changing the dates with our l
imited Photoshop skills. Neither hedge fund analysts nor nannies needed to alter images often, but he’d managed to figure it out by Googling. My part had mostly consisted of checking his work and pinching him to point out when he’d missed something.

  “Right,” Edwin said, but made no move to take them from Gordon. “Tell me more, Mr. Bruin. Why did you come here in the first place?”

  “For a job,” Gordon said simply.

  “If you were working under the table, I assume you never paid taxes. You’ll have to settle your debts.”

  “Not a problem,” I said, although Gordon winced.

  The whole immigration process was more expensive than either of us had expected. Even with the discount Talbot had given us, the lawyer fees added up. And then there were the amounts charged by the government at various stages, which would be in the tens of thousands—if everything went smoothly.

  I didn’t mind. Gordon was worth every penny. Now, if I were to lose him and get hit with a massive fine, that would be a kick in the teeth.

  “Why did you overstay your visa?” Edwin went on.

  “I don’t know,” Gordon said. “I wasn’t really thinking about it. The job was going well, and the time just flew by. I didn’t know there were such strict rules for Canadians. I thought we were pretty much allowed to come and go as we pleased.”

  “You’ve been here for three years,” Edwin said. “It never occurred to you that it might be a problem? No one in your life told you to go home?”

  “It was stupid of me, and I take complete ownership of that.”

  Edwin harrumphed, but moved on to the next paper. “Why did you leave your last job?”

  “The little girl didn’t need me anymore. I thought about going home, but Miami was home by that point. I looked at some ads, got in touch with Cole, and got hired. I honestly didn’t think twice about it.”

  “And I didn’t think to ask about his citizenship status,” I said quietly. “I take ownership of that.”

  Gordon reached over to squeeze my knee. I covered his hand with mine, my heart beating harder. We hadn’t showed much affection up to now, which might make Edwin think we were faking. On the other hand, maybe it’d look forced if we were to start halfway through the interview. Were we halfway through? I sure hoped so. What if Edwin was a homophobe? Any PDA would definitely rub him the wrong way.

  “Mr. Hofstetter?”

  I coughed. “Sorry, I missed the question.”

  “I asked about your first few dates with Mr. Bruin. What did you do on them?”

  I gave the best answer I could. Edwin’s tone was starting to scare me. I peeked into the file, but I couldn’t see much. It looked like there were some receipts in there, and he picked one up with the tips of his fingers.

  “You held your wedding at Little Gables Banquet Hall,” he said. “Why did you choose that one in particular?”

  The questions went on and on. Every detail of our wedding day and our honeymoon—at least everything short of what positions we’d used in the bedroom. Every little thing about our date nights, our correspondence, our regard for each other.

  Although Talbot had prepared us well, I was sweating. Every time I glanced over at Gordon, he looked just as pale. Edwin never paused, not even to offer us water. And as he hammered us with questions, he never showed the slightest sign of whether he believed us.

  “Cole, have you met Gordon’s family?” he asked. And, “Gordon, how’s your relationship with Kerry’s teacher?”

  On and on and on. He went through the information page by page, sometimes mouthing silently to himself, sometimes simply frowning at the page. “Interesting.” He gave us what looked like a glare before returning to the print-outs.

  I touched Gordon’s knee, wanting to give him some comfort. “Almost done,” I whispered. “Almost there.”

  “Do you need to read our emails?” Gordon asked.

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” Edwin went back to our file, shaking his head as he came to the last page. “I have everything I need.”

  We’d put so much effort into those—plus at this point, I actually felt nostalgic about when we wrote them. I was almost offended that Edwin wasn’t interested. I almost missed the subtle shift in his expression.

  “What is it?” Gordon asked.

  “Nothing,” Edwin said with a tired smile. “Just interesting.”

  I grabbed my husband’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “What?”

  “Your application looks good,” Edwin said. “I’d love to pass you.”

  A but hung in the air.

  “But we have a sworn statement from Kerry Hofstetter saying you only got married for the green card.”

  Twenty-One—Gordon

  “How could you do this?” I demanded as soon as we were outside the building.

  “How did you do it?” Cole asked. “You’re nine years old. Who did you even give a sworn statement to?”

  Kerry crossed her arms, giving each of us a stubborn look. “I only told them the truth.”

  “Fuck.”

  I balled my hand into a fist, suppressing the urge to punch the brick wall. Not an easy task when my own stepdaughter had stabbed me in the back.

  We did manage to get in the car before continuing—Kerry in the passenger’s seat, Talbot and I in the back. Leaving the key in the ignition, Cole twisted around so we could all talk together.

  “I told the truth!” Kerry burst out again. “You told me I was supposed to. Both of you did. Then you changed your minds. But I wasn’t going to lie.” She should’ve been ashamed of herself, but she actually looked proud instead. “I told my teacher what happened, and she told me what to do.”

  “Fucking fuck,” I said.

  I could practically read Kerry’s thoughts through her face. We always told her not to swear, but here I was doing just that. We were complete hypocrites, and she’d done the right thing.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Cole said. “You told Gordon you were going to say we were in love, and that you weren’t going to tell anybody how our marriage started.”

  “I lied,” she said flatly. “You told me sometimes it was all right.”

  I pressed my hand to my forehead, my jaw locking. I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

  Seeing my tension, Talbot put a calming hand on my arm. He inched forward, modulating his tone for Kerry. “Do you understand there are consequences to what you did?”

  “What are consequences?”

  “You understand Gordon might have to move away because of you? That maybe him and your daddy won’t be able to be together anymore?”

  Her lower lip jutted out. “They’re gross together. It’s okay if Gordon moves away. I won’t have to see them kiss all the time anymore.”

  I kept myself from swearing again, although it took some effort.

  “Kerry,” Talbot said, “if they send Gordon away, he won’t be moving to some other part of Miami. They’d send him back to Canada. Do you know where that is?”

  “Where the Maple Leafs live.”

  “But do you know how far that is?”

  She shook her head.

  Now I was beginning to understand. I cleared my throat, suddenly more sorrowful than angry. “It’s far, kiddo. Very far. It takes hours and hours to get there.”

  “But we can drive for hours and hours,” she said defiantly.

  “Not driving,” I said. “By plane.”

  “Oh.” Her lip retracted, and as she looked from one of us to the next, her expression went from self-righteous to… guilty.

  “It’s my fault,” I said. “I didn’t explain this to her well enough.”

  “As much my fault as yours,” Cole said. “Apparently it’s also our fault for kissing too much.”

  “Can’t I take it back?” Kerry asked, her lower lip quivering.

  I looked at Talbot. Surely there was some way to discredit her statement. She was nine, for heaven’s sake. They should never have listened to her in the first plac
e.

  “We can try,” Talbot said. “But whether or not it’s on official record, it’ll still be in their heads.”

  It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so sad. Kerry understood now, and I knew she would’ve taken back what she’d said if she could’ve. But what was done was done.

  “What exactly did they say back there?” Talbot asked. “Are they denying your application based on what she said?”

  “No,” I said. “They’re giving it extra scrutiny. They’re going to do background and security checks to confirm the information we gave them.”

  “Including but not limited to home visits and interviews with our friends and family,” Cole added.

  The car went silent, each of us thinking through the situation. Finally Talbot put his hand on the door handle. “If they happen to call me, you know what I’ll say.”

  He gave us a weak smile as he got out.

  *

  “You’ve raised one honest little girl,” I said when Cole and I were alone that night.

  He stared out the window, looking at the palm trees in the front yard. “Are you seriously trying to put a positive spin on this? There’s nothing good about it.”

  “I just mean Kerry was trying to do the right thing. I’m angrier with her teacher than anyone else.”

  “What was Mrs. Busybody thinking, getting involved with this?” Cole asked. “Doesn’t she know we can make her life hell at parent-teacher night?”

  I half-snorted. There was a good chance I wouldn’t even be in the country for the next parent-teacher night.

  “But seriously, do you think we could report her to someone?” I asked. “She interfered in our lives, and…”

  “All she did was help Kerry tell the truth,” Cole said.

  Both of us were quiet for a moment, and I crossed the room to hold him from behind. Leaning my forehead on his shoulder, I savored the warmth of his body. If there ever came a day when I couldn’t do this anymore, I didn’t know what I’d do.

  “Gordon.” Cole’s voice caught on the last syllable of my name. “I can’t deal with this. I can’t stand the thought of them taking you away from me.”

  “They won’t,” I said—even though I couldn’t promise that.