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?”
“It means we have to get a divorce,” I seethe.
“We’re Catholic—we don’t get divorced. But anyway, we can worry about that after lunch. I’m fucking starved,” he says and rubs his apparently empty belly.
CHAPTER SIX
(Colleen)
If we’re gonna be married, you got to start putting out, pretty girl.
A LOUD BURP rings in my ears and I look to my… Brad? Husband? Nah. I shake my head. Ball and chain. Yeah, that sounds good. He has a smug look on his face and he’s patting his belly. Thank God this restaurant we’re in is nearly empty or I’d be mortified. As it is, I’m turning a little pink.
“So,” Brad begins, “when’re ya moving in, wife?” I groan, rolling my eyes, and turn to him. He has his iPhone out and he’s playing with it. Looking around the table I see that everyone has their phones out and they’re playing with them. Something is afoot and I don’t like it—not one bit.
“Quit callin’ me that,” I protest. The longer I’m around him, the more we talk, and especially the more we argue, the stronger my accent gets—another unfortunate side effect of this sham of a marriage. The gang all laughs. They, collectively, seem to be finding great humor in our situation. Not even Adam is taking this seriously. He won’t quit calling me The Mrs. when he talks to Brad.
My phone dings and before I can pick it up, it dings several more times. I