If Brad isn’t my best friend, then who is? Darla could be, but then, she’s my sister-in-law. Maybe that doesn’t count? Lindsay could be, but then, she has her own life and I don’t really know how deep our friendship goes—especially in comparison to mine and Brad’s. James isn’t my best friend, I know that. The more I think it over, the more I realize that while Brad and I barely talk, I’m still closer to him than I am to anyone else in my life—and I barely speak to him. My head hurts, and now not only am I alone and childless, now I’m almost best friendless.
Brad knocks on the door and doesn’t wait for me to respond before he barges in. I check myself for any gaps in the small towel. “I gotta piss,” he says, yawning and giving me a sideways glance. I watch incredulously as he scratches his belly and walks over to the toilet, legs spread.
“Hey,” he says in a seductive tone. My eyes shoot up and his green ones are sparkling. I get a little lost in them. “If you wanna see Mac, you’re welcome to stay,” he smirks. I watch, horrified as he whips Mac out and starts peeing. I run from the room.
“Brad!” I shout, clutching my towel to me. I hear him laughing and peeing. God. I really didn’t think he could get worse, but then he does.
“Married people piss in front of each other, pretty girl. Get used to it!” he shouts. I hear his gravely morning voice fade into a coughing fit. A few steps toward the bathroom to check on his wellbeing and I hear him hawking a loogie onto who-knows-what surface, and I decide that he can just decompose in there. Besides, I’m a cop’s wife now. I’d get a pretty sweet pension if the pig were to choke to death on his own saliva.
“I won’t have time to get used to it, dear; we’re getting this thing annulled!” I shout back, annoyed. Honestly, you’d think there would be some sort of grace period for disgusting behavior in newlyweds.
I hear the water running and decide to take advantage of this time alone. I search through my luggage for something appropriate to wear. The best I can do is a white sundress and matching wedge sandals. I don’t look very lawyery, as Brad calls it, but oh well.
The shower turns on and soon enough I hear Brad moaning. Curiosity gets the best of me and I tip-toe toward the door. A few grunts, few more moans, and the sound of Brad panting have me speechless. He’s actually… my mind trails and I try to shake the image of Brad pleasuring himself out of my head. I try to reason that legally he is my husband and there’s nothing wrong with… enjoying… the image of him… enjoying himself. But then, my husband is Brad… and he’s so… him. It’s a circular thought process and is doing me no good.
HOURS, A FEW mimosas, a ridiculous trip to an attorney and a very long conversation with the gang later; and the six of us find ourselves waiting to see a judge about our annulment. Our first stop was at an attorney’s office. He all but kicked us out. There are thirty-five five legal reasons that a judge would grant an annulment, and according to Bozo the Attorney, we don’t qualify. He claims that impetuous decisions made between lifelong friends are outside the legal parameters of which he can work. I think he’s just being lazy and he didn’t appreciate my side comments regarding his limited understanding of the law. So, here we are.
It feels like we’ve been here forever. I stare idly at the clock and take deep breaths in an attempt to will my nerves away. I don’t like this feeling. I don’t like it one bit. Finally, we’re called before the judge. At first I try on my lawyer face and I find out quickly that it doesn’t work.
“Your Honor, with all due respect, Bradley and I never intended to stay married.”
“Then why did you get married, Mrs. Patrick?” she asks with an air of irritation in her voice.
“I wanted to be married by my 35th birthday, and Bradley offered to be my husband,” I offer, thinking this is sound reasoning for an annulment. I put away the legalese in an effort to appeal to the Judge. She is a middle-age woman and according to Google—never married. Surely she understands my plight.
“Mrs. Patrick, you and Mr. Patrick have made a mockery of the institute of marriage. I have not found your Petition for an Annulment to have any legal bearing. Neither of you misrepresented your wants from this marriage, neither one of you is already married. Mr. and Mrs. Patrick, you wanted the experience of getting married, now, I suggest you get comfortable and enjoy the experience of being married. Your Petition is denied.”
She.Did.Not.Just.Deny.Our.Annullment.
“Hey,” Brad whispers, “what does this mean?”