The Wedding Date

by Zrinka Jelic

  “I understand your predicament.” He topped up water in the glass and took a sip then stuck the straw in the liquid and handed it to her.

  “I had to think fast and the first guy I could think of was you.” You’re the only guy I thought of since I saw you. “After that, the attention I’ve gotten from my family was great, I couldn’t let go and kept up with the lie.” She tried to smile but the stiches inside her nose pulled so the smile didn’t reach her eyes, but his did. “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad? God no, I’m pleased and honored you thought of me.” He took her glass, but held her hand. “What kind of ring did my cheap cousin give to his future bride?”

  Perhaps Mark was changing the topic to ease the tension, but his tactic worked, and Neri relaxed her shoulders. “The ordinary yellow gold with three diamonds, you know from the d-block.”

  Mark stared at her, his lips pressed tightly, but he snorted and burst into a melodious laughter. “Oh, you’re bad. So I take it transitional metals don’t impress you.” He’d picked up on her nerdy joke.

  She joined in with his laugh. “I’d be impressed by something from the f-block, rare Earth metals, Actinides especially.”

  He sucked in his breath. “Those are all radioactive.”

  “That’s why they’re impressive.” Finally, she came across someone who understood science humor. “So how come you’re not mad?”

  He stopped laughing, and his expression turned serious. “I too, might’ve told a lie.”

  “Really?” She sat up straight. Here he made her sweat bullets, when he wasn’t mister innocent himself. “Do tell.”

  “All in due time.” Getting up, Mark leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

  “But—”

  “No buts. Get some rest for an hour while I run out and pick up food for tonight. Mostly for me. You, I’m afraid, will be stuck with jelly and clear broth.”

  Neri rested her head on the pillows of her raised bed. This must be a dream. When would she wake from surgery?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Neri sat in the wheelchair while Mark pushed her through the long and narrow hallway of the clinic. Who would’ve have thought when she rolled out of the bed this morning that by the late afternoon she’d have a date for the wedding, a brand new nose and she would be spending the next two days with him? Well, not a brand new nose, but much improved at any rate. It would be, once the packing and cast came off and the swelling, bruising and redness receded. Despite the pull of the stiches and splint, she couldn’t suppress smiling. Of course, the sceptic in her dreaded that the surgery would be botched and that the new schnauz wouldn’t work well with her face.

  Mark set the brakes on the chair at the main door and tapped her shoulder. “It’s humid and hot outside. You sit tight and I’ll bring my car around the front.”

  She nodded and attempted a grin, but the stiches inside her nose didn’t like the sudden movement. The sharp pain zipping across her face turned her smile into a grimace. Her face must’ve appeared as if she suffered a brain freeze or bit into a lemon, she imagined. Thankfully, Mark was already out the door.

  Dr. Thomas approached with quick steps. He handed her strange looking pads with hooks on either end. “You hook these on your ears, so that the pad hangs under your nose and can absorb any discharge. Eliminates the irritation from constant wiping and protects your clothing and bedding. Take it easy, no strenuous exercises, and I’ll see you in two days.”

  “Sure thing, Dr. Thomas. Thank you.” She took the pads and examined them. As if she wasn’t a freak enough with all the padding and cast, now she would complete her look by wearing one of these nose bibs. Not a chance.

  A dark SUV parked in front of the glass doors. Mark jumped out and skirted the hood, opened the passenger’s door and then stepped inside the clinic. “Your chariot awaits.” He announced, unlocking the brakes on the wheelchair. “Shall we?”

  “I can walk from here. It’s like two steps and my legs could use a bit of stretching.” All this attention made her head spin more than the meds they’d pumped into her.

  “All right, but be careful. Here, lean on me.” Mark wrapped his arm around her waist.

  Whether it was to genuinely help her or an excuse to get his hands on her, she hoped for the latter, but she accepted his offer. The feel of his hard muscles under his shirt heated her cheeks, they were red from the work done on her face anyhow, so what the heck. She would lean on him and leaned she did, like a true damsel in distress.

  Despite the twilight, the sticky humidity clung to her as Mark opened the clinic’s door. The thick air worsened her breathing. Mom had been right, she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep in her apartment, but she wouldn’t get any rest at Mark’s place either. Falling asleep was a real big production at home let alone at the new and unknown house. The slightest sound would jerk her awake.

  He helped her get into her seat, closed the door and raced around the car then slipped into the driver’s seat.

  The engine purred and music played, but she was thankful he’d left the air conditioning running. In the recesses of her mind, guilt of imposing on him stirred. The whole situation didn’t sit right with her. She buckled up. “I know my mom will check my place so I can’t go there, but I cannot take advantage of your kindness. It doesn’t feel right and it’s not fair to you.”

  His hand on the gearshift froze. “Nonsense, you’re not imposing.”

  “But what about your gym and clinic? You said the place would fall apart without you there.”

  “There are physiotherapists on staff, and it’s time I put the general manager to good use.” Mark turned to her and patted her leg. “Besides, we have some catching up to do on our relationship, don’t we? Lean back and relax. If this jazzy music is not to your taste, I’ll play something you’d like. We have a bit of a drive.”

  Well, she had cooked up the whole thing with her lies, now she would have to live with it, and a part of her celebrated. Plus, with her mom doing better research than the CSIS, FBI and CIA combined, she’d rather take chance with Mark.

  Mark’s hand still lingered on her leg. Was he playing the role of her boyfriend or was he for real? Separating her fantasies from reality would be a challenge. All this pretending would come to an end and she would prefer it to be a smooth parting. They could stay friends and maybe take it from there, with no pressure of her family.

  She stretched out her arm at the back seat where she spotted her gym bag but came short of grabbing the sack. The music or rather ruckus, he had on grated on her nerves and she wanted to test him to see if he liked her kind of tunes. “My iPod’s in the front pocket of my gym bag, but I can’t reach it.”

  “Not a problem.” He removed his hand from her knee and twisted to extend his arm back. A sound of zipper opening came from behind her. In the next moment, he handed her the iPad in its case.

  “Um, I’ll need the cable too,” she said, taking the small device from him.

  Without a word, he repeated the motion and pulled out a white cord.

  “Thanks.” Scrolling through her music library, she found her favorite song and handed the device to him. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to listen to something soothing.” She really meant to say something less annoying, but her taste in music was often described as ridiculous and mean spirited comments sucked.

  “Not at all.” He disconnected his phone from the car’s blue tooth and plugged her iPod in the USB port. Orchestra sounds poured out of the car’s speakers. “Classical, I love it, but I’m not good at composers and pieces, so you’ll have to fill that in for me.”

  “The title of the song is displayed on the screen.” She pointed at the neon blue rectangle in the middle of the dashboard with black letters spelling Air. “This is by Bach and it’s done in G Major, now the title is changed to Air on G Sting, not to be confused with J string.”

  He burst out laughing, but rolled out of the parking lot and eased the car into the traffic.

  Her heart al
most sank, but he cranked up the volume when the melody picked up and tapped his hand on the steering wheel. “This is good. Can you play like this?”

  Ah, and here is the famous question. “Yes and no. I’m not a solo violinist, but I could play it, though it’d be like listening to a backup singer instead of a lead vocal.”

  “So you’re saying I’d only hear a part of the song.”

  “Exactly.” At least he got it. Whenever she tried to explain this to someone their eyes would glaze over, and she knew they weren’t getting it despite their um-hums. “So where are you taking me?” She switched the topic before he asked her if she would play for him, as she anticipated that question. Of course she would, she practiced every day. At the studio, away from prying eyes and ears and especially from her stupid neighbor who’d put on his heavy metal whenever she picked up her violin.

  “I live in Branchton. We should be there in about twenty minutes. The traffic’s not bad right now.”

  “I have to Skype with my cousin once we get to your place. It’s Sandi’s brother and the two of us will be preforming at the wedding.”

  “No way! I get to hear you play after all. I can’t wait.”

  The first notes of Karl Jenkins’ “Benedictus” streamed from the speakers. She tapped his arm. “Curb your enthusiasm and enjoy this piece. I’m thinking of playing it, but the song may put people to sleep.”

  “This is beautiful,” he whispered, then fell silent.

  Perhaps this composition would put everyone into a trance.

  She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. The melody took her into outer space, made her feel like she floated on the current of a soft air. The composition ended and a new classical one started. She smiled but didn’t say a word. As the cellists played first few notes of a popular rock song, she glanced at Mark.

  He didn’t seem to get the subtle switch from classical. The track kept on and the corner of Mark’s lips dipped. “Hey, wait one second, this is, ‘Thunderstruck.’ I never heard it done this way. What instruments are played here?” By the next second, he head banged along with the rhythm.

  “This cover is done by the 2Cellos. Heard of them?”

  “Sorry, can’t say I have.”

  “Look them up on YouTube. They are Croatian cellists and do these kinds of versions of popular songs. They also do classical music, so to appeal to all ages.”

  “This would be great workout music. To tell you the truth, I’m sick and tired of the same old.” He lowered his voice as if not to jinx his next words. “To the point, I sometimes wish the stereo would break down, so I don’t have to listen to it anymore.”

  “You can always compile a new playlist.”

  “No time to pick and choose tunes that would appeal to everyone and play around with all that. Hey, how about you come up with one? I’ll use it in my next cross-fit class. Ha-ha, imagine everyone’s faces when the classical music starts.” He pulled up onto a scarcely lit road, as they left the last few houses, the street lamps stopped and he switched the high beams on. The 2Cellos picked up with “Trouper Overture” and Mark picked up speed. He rolled his window down and roared into the night.

  “Glad you’re enjoying this.” She patted his shoulder. Not everyone found her taste in music appealing, but not everyone mattered. Not the way Mark did to her.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m having a time of my life right now. Can’t you tell?” His spirited voice convinced her of his sincerity. Beads of sweat slid down his temple.

  She’d created a monster in just few songs. “Maybe we should take it easy. Doctor Thomas said I shouldn’t do anything strenuous.”

  “Doctor Thomas? Pfft…please just call him Dave.”

  “Maybe to you. You probably went to grade school together. Don’t your patients call you Doctor Warren?”

  “They do, but even after nine years of practicing medicine, Doctor Warren sounds strange to me, so I correct them to call me Mark. And yes, Dave and I go way back. In third grade, he and my brother convinced me it was a pajama day. I was the only kid showing up in my P.J.’s at school. Imagine my embarrassment.”

  “I feel your pain. So the nine years of doctoring, do they include your residency?” Nine years? Wow. Neri did some quick math in her head. If he enrolled into college straight after he graduated the high school, which would take at least another two years. Then two more years of medical university, then a year of residency, if he completed everything on time, he’d be at least thirty-two years old.

  “What did you get?”

  His question startled her and she ceased her finger on her leg, a method she used for adding and subtracting. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re trying to figure out my age. I can see you writing on your leg with your finger.” He spared her a quick smile. “How old am I according to your math?”

  Okay, he got her. “I’ve reckoned thirty-two.”

  “Thank you for that.” He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’m turning forty this year.”

  No friggin’ way! Forty. He didn’t look it, but then what did forty look like? “I’ll be thirty-seven, so you can say we’re getting up there.”

  “Up there for sure. Oops, almost missed my turn.” He took a sharp right and the car swayed with sudden movement, but stayed on course. “My street is easily missed. For almost a year after I moved here, I had to double back, then I found out that this road loops around and connects with mine at the other end. Oh well, live and learn.”

  His street was narrow, no sidewalks lined either side, but the vintage street lamps illuminated the foot of the driveway of each house. The place must be enchanted looking at Christmas, especially during the white ones.

  The car came to a stop in front of the retro house that had a great curb appeal but appeared small. Climbing vine hugged the trellis at one side, reaching the windows on the upper level. Perhaps just an illusion, his place must be bigger from the inside for by looking at the building that stood in front of her, there couldn’t be more than one bedroom in there. If that were the case, would he play a good host and take a couch?

  “Home, sweet home,” he announced, getting out of the car. “I’ll get your bags in a minute, first let me get the takeout in, so I don’t spill the soup.”

  “I can take the food.” Slowly, she eased out of the car, met him half way around the hood and took brown bags from his hands.

  He opened the blue front door and flipped the overhead foyer lights. The high ceilings of an open concept living room and kitchen came in her view. Her initial doubt melted at the sight of the carpeted stairs leading to the second story. There had to be more than one room.

  “You’re not afraid or allergic to dogs, I hope.” Mark’s voice echoed in the hardwood flooring living room.

  She stopped gawking. “No, why do you ask?”

  “Because,” he said, opening the sliding patio door. A large brown dog took a bee line straight toward her. “That’s Tag. He’s friendly.”

  “What kind of name is Tag?” She patted the animal’s broad head. His snout went from her waist straight into her crotch. Why do dogs do that?

  “His name was Hank, but he always tagged along, so I called him Tagalong at first, then shortened it to Tag and it stuck.”

  “Hi Tag.” She leaned closer to the dog’s ear. “Your human’s a goof, you know?”

  Mark gave an exhausted laugh as if he heard her accusation before. “I’m sure he knows.”

  She admired Tag’s tawny coat. Her parents wouldn’t allow animals in the house and she’d grown up never knowing what was like to own a pet. “What breed is he? Looks like he could bring down a lion.”

  “He’s a mutt, but mostly he’s an African Lion Hound. Yes, they are bred to hunt lions, but not Tag. He couldn’t bring down our neighbor’s cat. To his defense that cat’s a bit of a jerk and is not afraid of him.” Mark opened the cupboard and pulled out a big container with kibbles. “Tag, keep your schnauz out of Neri’s crotch. He ge
ts fed first, or we won’t eat in peace. You must be hungry too.”

  “Not really.” At least not for the dog food, but whatever was in the brown bag, smelled good and made her mouth water. She pretended to ignore his command to Tag, though heat in her cheeks indicated her face was reddening.

  “I know, nerves shut down your appetite. You should try to eat something though. The pain killers you’ll have to take soon don’t go well on an empty stomach.” Mark poured two overfilled scoops of dry, compounded, food into Tag’s bowl. The bowl was empty before Mark returned the container to its place in the cupboard. Tag turned his attention to her again, sniffling and licking her hands. Must be he smelled the food she’d carried inside.

  “Okay, keep me company while I grill my steak.”

  “So you get a steak, but I get a Jell-O and chicken broth.” She didn’t intend for her voice to come out sarcastic, but that was her. Hopefully it didn’t register with him. The last thing she wanted was this evening to turn sour because of her sour nature that could surface at any time. Something she struggled to keep in check.

  “Love, nothing would give me more pleasure than to share my steak with you, but you can’t have solids yet.”

  A car door shutting drew both their gazes to the open front entrance. A middle aged, well-put together woman approached the mesh screen on the weather door.

  “Expecting someone?” Neri turned to Mark.

  His back straightened and his eyes widened. “Oh, shit! That’s my mom. Now it’s your turn to play along.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mark squeezed Neri’s shoulder and gave her a tight lipped smile. The last thing he expected was for his mother to show up at his house. His mom pulled the door and stepped in through the threshold.

  Tag immediately sprung up and rushed to her.

  “Mark, darling.” His mom only spared him a pat on his cheek. Her strong perfume saturated the air with a flowery scent. “Keep that beast away from me.” At the sight of Neri’s face, Mom stretched her arms toward Neri as if inviting her to a hug. She tilted her head while the corners of her lips dipped down.