by Cameron Lowe
“So… is that a yes to the bad macaroni salad?” Malcolm asked, and she laughed again.
Chapter 20
Thanks largely to their miniscule budget, nothing about the wedding was quite as they dreamed, and in that regard, it was made far more memorable for it.
The one thing they were able to do just as Gwen wanted was nab her childhood church along with her old pastor. Although the engaged couple were adamant about trying to pay for things on their own, her parents talked the pastor into a reduced price, given the family’s history with the church. Malcolm and Gwen had to sacrifice a few things, but had a lot of fun making up for it in other ways.
In lieu of flowers from a store, Gwen, Juliet, Daphne, and Janet went on an expedition to the mountains a few days before the wedding to pick wildflowers. It was a great bonding experience for the mothers of the bride and groom, and Janet even got to see her first elk, as an enormous herd of seventy or so seemed to almost pose on a ridgeline. She insisted it meant that their children’s wedding had been blessed, and not a soul argued with her.
Malcolm was in charge of the reception, the second priciest expense of the wedding. They booked a day at a city park in the northwest part of Morristown along the Paper Birch River, and he bought some charcoal briquettes, lighter fluid, and a few chunks of wood and a bundle of kindling. They kept a cooler ready back at Gwen’s parents’ house, and when the wedding was finished, Hugh would run back and grab the cooler, the meat, and all the other necessities before they drove out to the barbeque site. A friend from the Eagle Nest apartment complex, Ian, brought a hat around to all the neighbors and collected about forty bucks for decorations. Mrs. Sosa even had an old pavilion tent they could borrow.
Booze was something they hemmed and hawed over right up to the wedding. Gwen was now twenty-one, and Malcolm would be there just weeks later, but that wasn’t the real issue. The problem was cost, and they agreed they had to ask friends and family to bring their own. The Irvings and Caplans, however, went behind their backs and bought beer, wine, and a bottle of champagne for the couple, hiding the evidence in the trunks of their cars until it was time to spring it on them. Another change organized by the family was the renting of a campsite a few miles outside the city for the couple when it was time to call it a night. Elliot bought a nice, small tent for the occasion along with a large couples’ sleeping bag and some accompanying camping gear.
The stage set, both the bride and groom worried up until the night before that they weren’t enough for their partner, that this would somehow all go up in smoke, but when they fell into bed that night before the wedding, all their fears melted away as they talked deliriously about the other, about their hopes, their fears. They made love that night, and Gwen slipped away just before midnight to stay with Juliet so Malcolm couldn’t see her until the wedding. It was both the worst and best night of sleep of his life.
* * *
Hugh looked terrific in a simple gray button down and black slacks, especially with his newly-trimmed hair. For months, he’d been flying under the radar, trying to focus at school. Now he seemed upbeat, and assured Malcolm straightaway he’d taken his anxiety meds and would be avoiding the drinks. In fact, he was one of the night’s designated drivers, his wedding present of sorts to the couple, along with a set of dishware.
About twenty minutes before they were set to begin, he stood with Malcolm and the pastor, talking quietly, when Gwen’s yelp of pure, unfiltered joy rang through the whole of the church.
“Charlie!”
While his parents grinned slyly at the secret they’d managed to keep, Hugh jumped as if he’d been shot, and ran – not jogged, but ran – for the foyer of the church. He had just enough sense to poke his head out when Malcolm tried to follow, and waved him back. “Gwen will shoot me if you see her before the wedding. Oh, and fair warning, bud, she’s got on a camouflage dress, so, you know, be prepared for full-on redneckishness.”
That drew a big laugh from the church. Malcolm waited impatiently at the head, torn between wanting to meet his soon-to-be brother-in-law and to get married. Hugh came back through the door with a man whose delicate face mirrored his sister, but who was both larger and taller than both his siblings. Charlie cut a hell of a figure in a silk Hawaiian shirt and slacks. The entirety of the Caplan side of the family rose to their feet to greet him, and he slowly slipped his way up first to hug his parents, then enthusiastically shake Malcolm’s hand.
“This is incredible,” Malcolm said. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Hey, couldn’t miss it. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the guy Gwen loves so much.”
“Why don’t you join my brothers and Hugh?”
“No, I don’t want to take any of the focus away from you two.”
Malcolm rested a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “It’d be an honor to have you up there. And Gwen would love it, I’m sure.”
“You know she would,” Hugh agreed.
“This wasn’t what I intended,” Charlie protested, but he allowed himself to be led up to the front of the church. Applause and cheers broke out, and Malcolm caught a quick peek of Juliet looking to see what was going on. She grinned at the new addition to the wedding party, and ducked back to the foyer. Gwen’s parents excused themselves to the back too, and Malcolm settled in, trying not to bounce on his feet in anticipation.
Soon enough, the pastor got a thumbs up from one of Gwen’s cousins from the back of the church, and he stepped over to start up the prerecorded music. To hire the church’s pianist would have pushed their budget way over what they could afford, so Malcolm’s younger siblings had volunteered to put together CDs for both the wedding and the reception. REM’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It” blared out, and Eliza bellowed David’s name from the foyer, drawing another big laugh.
“It’s funny!” David complained. “All right, next song.”
The bridal wedding party stepped down the aisle to a Shania Twain love song. There was no real theme to the way anyone was dressed – it was a come-as-you-are affair – but everyone had made an effort that day. Malcolm had never seen his little sister in a dress outside prom, but she wore a gorgeous red knee-length one with poofy shoulders that day. Juliet, Gwen’s maid of honor, had done her hair in falling ringlets and eschewed her usual flamboyant makeup for something subtler and strikingly beautiful.
And before it all even began to register that this was happening, the bridal chorus began, and there she was, arm in arm with Elliot. Gwendolyn descended upon the altar in a borrowed pale green dress, her slim, delicate throat jumping with the emotions she was holding back. On her hand was the chintzy little ring they bought together, soon to be accompanied by a simple gold band that would match his own. Her eyes flicked to Charlie standing with Hugh and Malcolm’s brothers, and her smile grew even wider. And when she reached her husband to be, her hand left her father’s and she reached for him, never wanting to let go.
* * *
Everything was good for months. And then it wasn’t.
Chapter 21
The washers and dryers for the building were located in the basement along with a disused community room that was now mostly stuffed with former residents’ excess junk they didn’t bother taking with them. While Gwen waited for the laundry to finish drying, she stole a peek through the items, hoping maybe to find a rug in decent shape for the living room. Winter hit early that year, a wet, blustery one that, while not cold, left her feeling achy and miserable already.
They’d talked a little bit more over their year together about moving out of the Flats, but the money just wasn’t there. Malcolm’s parents offered to put them up at their place in Minneapolis, but they had an exchange student from Spain living there along with David. Plus, both Malcolm and Gwen still stung from the insults hurled at him by Gwen’s dad, and they were fervent about trying to make it on their own. It was not easy, but they were doing okay, saving little by little. Their hope was to start trying for a kid when
they had a thousand dollars in savings – not a fortune, but a solid base.
Malcolm still held his part-time job for Matto Furio’s, along with steady work as a clerk in another grocery store, making that something like the third grocery store in the Rankin Flats area he’d worked for. Managerial jobs were opening up at both places, and Gwen encouraged him to try for it, though secretly she wondered if he could settle down enough to put in the regular hours at either place. Malcolm was a hard worker, but he’d take a day off for any reason whatsoever and had a constant, serial problem being late. She’d been raised to treat punctuality in the same regard as shaking someone’s hand when you first meet them. It was good manners to be on time, to put in that bare amount of effort, and it drove Gwen crazy that Malcolm seemed to think of punctuality as something to do when it wasn’t an inconvenience. To her, not bothering to show up or call was more of an insult than belching right in someone’s face, because it wasted a resource no one had an infinite amount of.
She wasn’t going to let it bother her because Gwen had enough on her plate. Dr. Robertson’s mental health was failing faster and faster, particularly when it came to time. Twice in the last month he’d slung on his coat and headed for the door early in the morning. The first time, Gwen let him go, bewildered until he came back and asked her why the diner he liked to go to for lunch wasn’t open yet. Gwen laughed at that nervously, thinking she was on the butt end of some kind of joke, but Robertson’s glare was all too real. She showed him the clock on the wall, and when he didn’t believe her, the clock on her computer as well. That one he knew she couldn’t prank him with, and he swept back towards his office, his hand on his forehead like he had a fever.
Yesterday, it happened again, but this time Gwen caught him as he was putting on his coat. For the second time, Robertson didn’t believe her, but this time they had two clients seated with a tabby and a mastiff. The pet owners backed Gwen up, and both opted not to follow through on their clinic visits that day until Dr. Robertson could get checked out. Gwen was supposed to work the next morning, but the vet scheduled an appointment at a small private clinic on the north side of the city, and wouldn’t be in all day. Once she’d called their clients, there was nothing to do but head home again.
It was obvious her days working for Robertson were numbered. Would there be another vet coming in? They’d lost his partner over the summer when he opted to move to Phoenix, and Robertson hadn’t interviewed anyone else. It couldn’t hurt to update her resume. As much as she’d love to return back to college and start pursuing her own veterinary license in earnest, now just wasn’t the best time.
In the meantime, she could do with a day off to get caught up on everything around the apartment. Malcolm was usually a bit of a neat freak and actually seemed to like cleaning, but working two jobs, he sometimes came home too tired to do much more than grab a bite to eat, drink a beer, and curl up with her on the couch to watch a movie or read a book. Both of them had become very fond of the local library, which had a huge collection of VHS tapes. She looked forward to the day they could afford a DVD player, but it was so low on their priority list as to be nonexistent.
Damn, there were no rugs in the community room. There was, however, a box of old paperbacks. She thumbed through them until she discovered the mouse droppings at the bottom of the box. That led to her rushing into the laundry room to hold her hands under near boiling water for as long as she could stand it, waving and blowing on them, and then jamming them back under the spigot again. By that point, blessedly, the laundry was nearly finished. She hopped up on the counter nearby, kicking her legs idly and thinking about where she’d apply first. Somewhere closer to home would be nice. There was a clinic near Malcolm’s work too. If they could team up on hours and she could drive him to and from work, that’d save them money on his monthly bus card.
Lost in those thoughts of the day to day, when the machines buzzed, Gwen tossed the dried clothes into the laundry basket and hefted it under one arm. Someone on the first floor opened the door to the building and a chill draft swept down through the basement. Yeesh. Shivering, she decided maybe after she folded the laundry, she’d grab a notepad, a blanket, and a cup of tea, and sack out on the couch to get nice and toasty while she worked on her resume’s wording.
It was a great plan, and she hummed as she crested the stairs up and out of the basement. Gwen noticed the snow whoever had come in tracked all over the carpet, but didn’t think anything of it as she climbed the first few stairs up to the second floor. What she didn’t notice were the pools of water left on the steps right until her foot kicked out from under her. Gwen almost caught her balance, the basket of clothes tumbling away from her and down the stairs, but she overcorrected and slid on the other foot too, twisting as she fell down, all her weight coming down badly on her leg.
Very badly.
The pain was instantaneous, a huge white blast that sent every other thought in her brain streaking away. She screamed, and despite the agony, tried to instinctually get to her feet, grabbing at the railing beside her. The shifting weight twisted the already-broken bone and her scream turned into something that nearly bloodied her throat, high-pitched, desperate. Her ass hit the steps again, her fingers digging into the rail, and she screamed and screamed until the first doors opened and the residents of the building rushed to her.
* * *
“I got it,” Gwen grumbled as Malcolm put a hand on her back. She was trying to ease down onto the couch without jostling her leg in its splint and he was worried she’d fall or slide off.
“You are an owly sick person, you know that?”
“I fell in love with you because I was sick.” She settled the last few inches, gripping her crutches tight.
“What are you talking about?” Malcolm asked. He plopped down beside her, still dressed in his Matto Furio’s red and green polo. When he got the call about Gwen being taken to the emergency room, he had rushed right there, not bothering to stop and change.
“That cold, remember? You brought me soup and the medicine. That’s when I knew, I think.”
“Oh jeez, I forgot about that.” He kissed her cheek. “All right, I’m making a Town Pump run. Do you want potato chips, ice cream or all of the above?”
She smiled wanly. “It’s all right. I’m good. If you hurry, you’ll only be a few minutes late to work.”
“My wife comes first. Always.”
“Honey-”
“I’m gonna go ahead and assume the right answer is both, but the question now is cookie dough or sherbet? Which are you feeling?”
“Malcolm!” she said, all the pretense of humor gone from her voice.
“Fine, fine, both it-”
“I need you to listen to me,” Gwen said, her voice now gone over to ice. “You’re pulling a Calvin.”
That stopped Malcolm entirely. His smile faded, and he said. “That’s… harsh.”
“You would not stop talking. This isn’t on me.”
“All right. Well, I’m listening now.”
“I need you to go to work. I’ll be fine.”
“Baby, I’m here to take care of you.”
“And I appreciate that, but I need you to take care of us. We cannot afford for you to get fired again. Not when we don’t know how much the hospital’s going to charge us and if Robertson’s going to shut the clinic down.”
“Insurance-”
She ran a hand over her face and laughed hoarsely. “Insurance isn’t going to cover everything, honey. If we’re going to do this, if we’re going to raise a family, I need you to start trying.”
His smile returned, but it was full of teeth. “So I’m not trying? Because I think I’m working two jobs to help out.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. I need you to start trying to fit in somewhere. Anywhere. We need stability. I need to be able to write the checks for the bills and know they won’t bounce.”
Malcolm stood up abruptly. “All right.” He stormed into their bedro
om and tossed on a button down. Before it was even tucked in, he was grabbing the blue grocery store vest and his keys. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t slam anything around like her dad would have. Instead he prowled around like a wounded dog, staring at the woman who’d kicked him.
“Kiss me before you go,” Gwen muttered. “Please.”
He huffed, but crossed the room and pressed his lips to hers. “Be back later,” he told her.
“Malcolm, I’m just saying what-”
But he was already leaving.
* * *
“I’m sorry about your wife. I really am. But this just isn’t working out and we’re going to need to let you go,” his manager at the grocery store had told him.
The words rang and rang and rang in Malcolm’s ears as he drove back to Matto Furio’s. Traffic was insane that day, and it took him the better part of two and a half hours instead of what should have been a half hour drive, tops. By that point, most his anger had evaporated and he realized Gwen was right. He had to start trying.
The owner, Dinah, was filling in as the Italian restaurant’s manager since the last one was caught dealing meth through one of their deliverymen. At that moment, she was in the back, helping one of the new cooks roll dough for the crusts. She glanced up at Malcolm, surprised.
“Did I call you in? I think we’re full up.”
“I want a chance at the manager’s position,” Malcolm said. That drew a snort from one of the dishwashers, and Malcolm glared in their direction.