TAKE TWO_ Who says you can't ma - Heather M. Orgeron Page 0,13

it in my face that this marriage is only temporary. Conveniently, two massive piñatas, a bride and groom, start making their way toward us, offering the perfect distraction. They’ve got to be at least fifteen feet tall, towering above the crowd much like the floats you see on TV at the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade.

“Those are the puppets I told you about from Tio Alex and Tia Rosa’s wedding parade.” El’s face lights up with excitement. “It’s supposed to be you and Mom!” Her giggle is infectious.

As they draw nearer, I can easily see the efforts made to customize them to better resemble Nya and me. The groom’s face has been painted stark white for one. Around the hairline I can see what’s left of the nice mocha skin tone he originally possessed. The irises of his enormous eyes are aqua, and brown streaks have been added to lighten his once-black hair. I have no idea what the bride originally looked like, but I assume the little mole below her left eye was added to replicate the one on Nya’s face. Her long dark hair, copper skin tone, and dark eyes are, I’m assuming, the standard for Hispanic wedding puppets, but what do I know?

Sofia places a floral crown, similar to the one topping the female puppet’s head, on her daughter. Then, the two of us are posed hand in hand in front of our doppel-dolls for our first official photo as husband and wife, take two.

“That’s going over the fireplace,” I announce when the congregation is once again on the move.

“You don’t think that would be taking this a little too far? Hanging wedding photos in the living room?” Her playful demeanor has become very serious all of a sudden. “I don’t want to hurt Ellie more than necessary. We should take care not to lead her on.”

“We’re married. We’re living in the same house. Sleeping in the same be—”

“Also your doing. If I had my way, you’d be on the couch.”

“My point is that her hopes are already up. Not hanging photos or sharing a room or being affectionate in front of her isn’t going to change that. Her greatest wish has just come true… you made that happen,” I remind her. “What was the point in any of this if you didn’t want to really try?”

“I—I,” she stammers, and I cut her off.

“If this was all nothing more than a joke to you…well now, that’s just fucking cruel to both me and our daughter.”

My reluctant bride stares up at me with wide eyes and trembling lips, but before she can formulate a response, she’s bouncing around on one foot. I glimpse down to find that her right shoe is covered in shit. The string of curses that flies from her mouth in front of her entire family and childhood priest would make even the most ruthless of pirates blush.

“Stupid. Stupid donkey!” Tears spring to her eyes. “Filthy, uncivilized…”

“Such a jackass,” I snort, unable to keep myself from laughing at the sight of her hopping around trying to kick off her manure covered heel.

“Of course, you think this is funny.”

“Fucking hilarious.”

Nya

Peter Peter

I’m dangerously close to chucking the paperweight clutched in my palm at the back of Liam’s head if he doesn’t stop humming along to the music blasting through his headphones. The screech of the bus’s brakes saves him. Three-fifteen, finally. Thank you, Jesus.

You know how they say time flies when you’re having fun? Yeah, well, trust me—the opposite is just as true. Our first day of sharing an office has been excruciating. I feel like I’ve been watching paint dry all day and just as productive too.

The opening and slamming of the front door rattles my just-filled cup of hot tea and alerts my nemesis to our daughter’s arrival.

“Kennedi’s parents are throwing a Halloween party on Saturday night, and I was thinking we could all go together. You know, as a family?” Ellie’s eyes are wide with excitement as she bursts through the French doors to my—er, correction—our office…for now anyway—without so much as a wave.

“What? No hello?”

Ellie’s cheeks flush at my reprimand as she plops onto the floor on the white shag carpet between us, unzipping her backpack and emptying its contents. She smiles up at us. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

At least one good thing is coming out of this insane arrangement; I can’t remember a time I’ve ever seen her so happy. My gut churns anyway, my protective instincts unable to stop worrying over how crushed