Marital Bitch(9)
He played his part perfectly, the devoted husband.
WE LEAVE THE chapel, laughing and causing a ruckus all the way. This feels right and I couldn’t be happier in this moment. We make the short trek to the strip and bask in the glowing lights of the rotating signs from the casinos and strip clubs that abound in this town. Brad is screaming that he just got married. He throws an arm in the air for emphasis, all the while the other is around my waist, never letting me go.
For a guy who acts like this was a favor to me, he sure seems awfully delighted to be a married man. I sincerely hope he doesn’t expect us to consummate the marriage. That would just be weird. After the first—and last—time we tried having sex, I really can’t see revisiting that kind of relationship. All I remember from that event—where we had tried to lose our virginity together on the night of our senior prom—was the pain and the God-awful noises he kept making.
James pulls me aside and we lag behind the others. Brad shoots James a look of annoyance. Darla doesn’t even look back. I think she set James up to this. “You’re a married woman now, little sister,” James beams and wraps his enormous arm over my shoulder. “It’s about time—you and Brad.”
I laugh loudly, making my ears ring. The sound catches me off guard and I stumble slightly. I hate these shoes. I need a drink.
“I’m going to have to get used to calling you Colleen Patrick,” James laughs, practically putting me in a headlock in the process.
“Well, you won’t have time to get used to it James, we’re getting this thing annulled tomorrow.” James stops dead in his tracks before I even finish my sentence. He is not pleased. It just now occurs to me that it’s possible not everyone realizes that this was just for fun.
We’re staring at each other. No words need to be exchanged. I’ve disappointed him; that is plain to see. “I’m sorry, James,” I look up at him, feeling like the worst sister on the planet. “I thought you knew.”
“No!” James shouts. “You mean to tell me that you two idiots thought getting married would be fun!” Brad hangs back, just slightly behind Adam. He has no interest in James’s rage. Frankly, neither do I. My husband is a damn chicken. I knew this already, so I shrug it off.
“Marriage is not fun!” James says. His eyes are beginning to cross. Darla folds her arms over her chest in annoyance.
“Well, it was Brad’s idea!” I shout and scurry back towards Darla. She won’t kill me, I don’t think. I mean, she needs all the babysitters she can get. James doesn’t move. He just stands there with blood shot eyes and this vein that’s throbbing on his forehead. He continues to rant and rave. He is livid and I can’t really blame him. If Lindsay and Adam were to get married spur of the moment and then tell me after it’s over that they were just playing around, I would be a little sad. But this is James—Brad’s partner on the force. This is my brother. How could he have thought this was real? I mean, it’s me and Brad for crying out loud. Even if our kiss back at the chapel got a little steamy, that doesn’t mean anything—we’ve been drinking.
“Come on, bro,” Brad says, walking toward James with his arms open wide. He gets within reach of James and he trips. He’s falling down drunk. The realization hits. Brad is falling down drunk, not James. I married Brad and he’s not even sober enough to walk upright. I swear he didn’t seem this drunk in the chapel. Oh, hell. James backs away from Brad, still quite angry.
“Brad, don’t tell me that you plan on… plan on…” James’s face is turning bright red. Wow, he’s really mad.
“Consummating the marriage? Bumping the ol’ uglies?” Brad asks. I think he wants a black eye. It’ll just be another story to tell his buddies at the station meanwhile James is shaking mad.
“How else do you think I’m going to get your sister to pop out a baseball team for me, playing cards?” Brad continues to goad James, and we all just stand there completely shell shocked. We have nothing to say. There is nothing we can do.
The four of us watch as James lunges at Brad who expertly dodges him. They are a formidable pair. They know one another’s moves as they’ve spent hundreds of hours sparring in the station’s gym. Before that it was in my parents’ living room. These two have been sparring since they could hold their heads up. This strange dance continues on for longer that I’m entertained by it. Eventually, Brad wears James down, and just like that, the hatch is buried. I try not to let it get to me—the fact that Brad doesn’t hold grudges with anyone else but me—but it still unsettles me.