Marital Bitch (Men with Badges) - By Jc Emery Page 0,8
grinning, and gives me a fist bump. Our onlookers begin to disperse. I wonder if this is, perhaps, the strangest display they’ve ever seen from a newly engaged couple.
We hail a cab and Brad tells them what we’re looking for. The driver knows exactly what we need to do and he drives us to the nearest ATM, where Brad gets out enough cash for the marriage license; then the cabbie takes us to the courthouse. We get out and Brad pays the guy an advance on his tip to stay put.
It’s a Monday night, so the courthouse is practically empty. Once we start filling out paperwork and handing over the cash, the reality of what I’m doing sinks in; but Brad keeps making jokes about being married and having a story to tell his buddies at the station. He’s really excited about this. Brad is all about having stories to tell his buddies back at the station. I try to convince myself that I’m going through with this in an effort to make my best childhood friend happy. It’s a pitiful attempt. Deep down I know I’m not trying to make him happy. I’m trying to make myself happy, if even for one night.
Back in the cab, Brad ruffles my hair and shakes me into giggles. He’s so carefree and silly. I can’t help but join in the spirit. I had a few stray day dreams as a teenager of what it would be like to be with Brad, and I may have scribbled Mrs. Bradley Patrick and Mrs. Colleen Patrick in a notebook a time or two—or a hundred.
Little does Brad know that by doing this, I’m accomplishing two of my goals without any of the hassle of a real wedding or actual marriage. I resolve to find my old diary in my parents’ attic and jot this down. I’m totally going to make the sixteen-year-old girl inside jealous. Speaking of jealousy, I’ll have to make sure Lisa Wilks hears about this. That woman has hated me since we were in Kindergarten and Brad wouldn’t let her kiss him no matter how many times she tried. He always let me kiss him though.
The cabbie makes a few calls from his cell phone and finds us a chapel that can work us in so that we’ll be married before midnight. This guy is good and we decide that he’s getting a hefty tip. Excitedly, we call and text our friends where to meet us. The moment I say “chapel”, I hear Darla yelling at James. I can’t make out all of what she’s saying, but I get the distinct impression that she thinks we’re crazy—or drunk. She may think we’re too drunk to make such a choice. We could be.
The next half an hour is a blur. We rush through the explanations everyone is demanding and we try to laugh off their concerns. James is the most relaxed. He hugs us both and says “it’s about damn time.”
Darla is not pleased with his carefree attitude and she’s playing with her phone. Her inattention to us is worrying me. I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing over there; but being the bride is an exhausting process, even in a spur-of-the-moment Vegas ceremony. The Bridal Assistant talks me into the elbow-length white gloves and the veil. Brad opts for a blue-silver suit jacket. We laugh about our attire and joke that we’re business on the top with our wedding gear, and party on the bottom with our jeans.
I pick out a cheap gold wedding band for Brad. It costs me a total of six dollars. Brad produces a Ring Pop for me and jokes that my ring will last longer than our marriage.
Darla finally lightens up. She’s all smiles and taking a few sneak shots with her cell phone camera. I’m just drunk enough to not think anything of this. It seems harmless enough. Darla Frasier: 1; Colleen Frasier-soon-to-be-Patrick: 0.
She’s playing on Facebook, but I figure I can convince her to remove it all later. It’s late here and even later back home. Nobody is going to see it anyway, I reason, except maybe for Lisa Wilks. Yes, yes, Lisa Wilks needs to see this.
The minister directs us to our places. James walks me down the aisle, and half way through, he breaks out into the funky chicken, but stops quickly when his back starts to ache. For a fake wedding, James is really just too excited. Yeah, he’s drunk, but