it did, didn’t it?”
“I suppose.” It’s true. Instead of abandoning our plans, we found a campground on the beach and stayed there. We made friends with several other college students who were camping there, and are still in touch with several of them.
“It just goes to show, you may not like my ideas, but you always learn to appreciate them. So please, play along. I promise, you’ll appreciate this, too.” She places her hands on my shoulders and forces me back into the chair decorated to look like a cheesy throne, streamers and bows adorning it with the word “bride” on the back.
Returning her attention to the guests, she smiles a fabricated smile, oozing excitement. “We’re going to play a version of the Newlywed Game.”
There’s polite clapping, along with some laughs, a stark juxtaposition to the dread filling me at the idea of sitting here and answering questions about Wes. True, I’ve been trying to make time for him, but even when we’re together, it doesn’t seem like either one of us is present. My nose is usually stuck in a book, getting a jump-start on some recommended reading for my upcoming curriculum. Wes is typically glued to his tablet, drawing up plans or checking specs on whatever project has his attention that day. We never just sit and talk.
“First question.” Molly’s voice sounds muffled and far away. “What is Wes’ favorite movie?”
I stare straight ahead, not seeing anyone. My chest tightening, I swallow hard, feeling like every muscle in my body is quivering. A sinking feeling forms in the pit of my stomach that this is Molly’s way of demonstrating how little I know him. I search my memory for the answer. Surely, he must have mentioned it at some point over the past few months, but nothing comes to mind. I pride myself on my observational skills, yet I can’t seem to come up with a single movie Wes might consider his favorite, my brain refusing to remember.
“Come on, the future Mrs. Bradford,” Molly goads. She doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still stings.
Having no clue, I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind. “The Godfather?”
Molly gives me a sideways glance, knowing all too well why I chose that. It’s her brother’s favorite movie. “Hmm… Let’s see what Wes has to say.”
She presses a button on her laptop and Wes’ voice fills the room. The sweet southern drawl that once soothed me only serves as a reminder of how inadequate I am. I shift my eyes to the screen, my stomach rolling when I take in his appearance in the prerecorded video. He’s been so busy, yet he found the time to answer these questions for her…and for me. I couldn’t even put in the effort to learn these things about him. Why do I feel like I’ll never measure up to what Wes deserves?
“It’s a Wonderful Life,” he answers with a charismatic smile. His hair is neatly groomed, his tie perfectly straight as he sits in front of the large windows in his office. “It’s cheesy and nostalgic, but I’m a cheesy and nostalgic kind of guy. I like the idea that it’s never too late for a second chance, that sometimes the people we surround ourselves with are more important than money or material possessions.”
I swallow hard, studying my guests, who seem to be looking upon me with pity. You can hear a pin drop in the stiff silence. Gone is the polite chatter, the clinking of ice against glass, the shuffling of plates. I almost want to ask each of them if they know their significant other’s favorite movie, but don’t. They probably do.
“Well, let’s move on,” Molly says finally. “It’s my fault. I put you on the spot. Just take a deep breath.” She meets my eyes. “I’m sure you’ll get the rest of them.” She lifts the next note card and reads another question, the acid churning in my stomach burning a little more with each answer I can’t give.
This goes on for several minutes. Molly asks a question, one I should know. Thankfully, some of them I do, like what side of the bed he prefers. But for many of the questions, the ones that would require some sort of conversation, I’m clueless. She said to trust her, that even though I may not initially agree with her ideas, I eventually learn to appreciate them. I doubt I’ll ever appreciate her putting me on display in front of