mocking the whole idea of an arranged marriage in the twenty-first century. Now there I was, the prospective groom of one.
Silence once again grew thick over the line. I dragged a hand across the back of my neck. We should’ve had this conversation over Skype instead of a regular phone call. Then I’d be able to see her reactions, her body language, and, well, her .
“Are you okay?” I asked gently.
“Oh yes. Yes, thank you. You have no idea what this means to me,” she said, then paused. “I’m a little embarrassed about what I’m about to ask you.”
A thread of trepidation snaked down my spine. This was a woman who’d asked her best friend to find her a husband. If what she wanted to ask me embarrassed her…well…there was no telling what it could be.
“I was visiting Poppy today and talked to Rita, she’s one of the CNAs that takes care of him, and she told me he was starting a downward spiral. He hasn’t been eating much and sleeps most of the day. I’m really worried he won’t last much longer. It seems like he’s just given up.”
Her voice was shaky, and she took a steadying breath before continuing. “In light of that…and I hate to ask this at all…but…would you be willing…I mean, would it be possible if…”
“You need me there ASAP.”
“If it’s at all feasible.” The river became a trickle as uncertainty cut off its flow.
“Let me talk to my boss, but I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She didn’t need to face this alone.
Lisa’s wild gesturing caught my eye, as did the concerned look on her face.
“Uh, Becky, Lisa is over here waving her arms like she’s trying to land a 747, so I’ll hand the phone back over to her. It was nice talking to you.” Lisa snagged the phone from my ear as I said good-bye.
12
Luke
MY WEIGHT RESTED on my forearms as I leaned against the dollhouse-sized butcher block island in my modest kitchen. The blank, black screen of my iPhone resting on the pale countertop mocked me. Ironic how I hadn’t been nervous to talk to Becky, a complete stranger I’d committed to marry, but the thought of picking up that phone and calling my dad made my palms sweat.
Mom had taken the news of my upcoming nuptials fairly well. At least she tried to hide her cynicism. Dad, however, liked to lay on the sarcasm as thick as icing on a birthday cake.
I wiped my hands on my pants and gritted my teeth before picking up the phone and dialing his number.
“Hey, Dad, how’s it going?”
“Eh, I’ve been better.” His husky baritone voice sounded defeated. Maybe it wasn’t a good time to give him what he’d consider bad news.
“What’s wrong? Trouble at work?”
“No, work is good. It’s Regina.”
“Is she all right? Are the two of you okay?” Regina was Dad’s third wife. After mom, he’d married a buxom Italian named Rosa. When that relationship went south, he’d moved to Nashville and found Regina, a wanna be country music singer.
“I don’t know what happened. We used to have such passion. We’d kiss, and fireworks would go off, you know? But nowadays…I don’t know…there isn’t even a spark. No sizzle. I think we’ve flamed out.” He sounded so resigned. Like there was nothing he could do about the situation but walk away.
See, that’s what happens when you treat marriage like it’s a package of fireworks. The fuel always burns out, and there’s a long, dark night left to follow. I paced the length of my apartment. Truth be told, it was too small for pacing, but I needed to expel some of the nervous energy that talking to my old man had created.
“Have you tried rekindling it?” I asked, exasperated that he was going to give up on yet another marriage. “Even when a flame goes out, there are still hot coals. All you need is a little fuel, and you can have a roaring blaze again.”
“I know you’re a fireman and all, son, but relationships don’t work like that.”
“How would you know?
Silence once again grew thick over the line. I dragged a hand across the back of my neck. We should’ve had this conversation over Skype instead of a regular phone call. Then I’d be able to see her reactions, her body language, and, well, her .
“Are you okay?” I asked gently.
“Oh yes. Yes, thank you. You have no idea what this means to me,” she said, then paused. “I’m a little embarrassed about what I’m about to ask you.”
A thread of trepidation snaked down my spine. This was a woman who’d asked her best friend to find her a husband. If what she wanted to ask me embarrassed her…well…there was no telling what it could be.
“I was visiting Poppy today and talked to Rita, she’s one of the CNAs that takes care of him, and she told me he was starting a downward spiral. He hasn’t been eating much and sleeps most of the day. I’m really worried he won’t last much longer. It seems like he’s just given up.”
Her voice was shaky, and she took a steadying breath before continuing. “In light of that…and I hate to ask this at all…but…would you be willing…I mean, would it be possible if…”
“You need me there ASAP.”
“If it’s at all feasible.” The river became a trickle as uncertainty cut off its flow.
“Let me talk to my boss, but I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She didn’t need to face this alone.
Lisa’s wild gesturing caught my eye, as did the concerned look on her face.
“Uh, Becky, Lisa is over here waving her arms like she’s trying to land a 747, so I’ll hand the phone back over to her. It was nice talking to you.” Lisa snagged the phone from my ear as I said good-bye.
12
Luke
MY WEIGHT RESTED on my forearms as I leaned against the dollhouse-sized butcher block island in my modest kitchen. The blank, black screen of my iPhone resting on the pale countertop mocked me. Ironic how I hadn’t been nervous to talk to Becky, a complete stranger I’d committed to marry, but the thought of picking up that phone and calling my dad made my palms sweat.
Mom had taken the news of my upcoming nuptials fairly well. At least she tried to hide her cynicism. Dad, however, liked to lay on the sarcasm as thick as icing on a birthday cake.
I wiped my hands on my pants and gritted my teeth before picking up the phone and dialing his number.
“Hey, Dad, how’s it going?”
“Eh, I’ve been better.” His husky baritone voice sounded defeated. Maybe it wasn’t a good time to give him what he’d consider bad news.
“What’s wrong? Trouble at work?”
“No, work is good. It’s Regina.”
“Is she all right? Are the two of you okay?” Regina was Dad’s third wife. After mom, he’d married a buxom Italian named Rosa. When that relationship went south, he’d moved to Nashville and found Regina, a wanna be country music singer.
“I don’t know what happened. We used to have such passion. We’d kiss, and fireworks would go off, you know? But nowadays…I don’t know…there isn’t even a spark. No sizzle. I think we’ve flamed out.” He sounded so resigned. Like there was nothing he could do about the situation but walk away.
See, that’s what happens when you treat marriage like it’s a package of fireworks. The fuel always burns out, and there’s a long, dark night left to follow. I paced the length of my apartment. Truth be told, it was too small for pacing, but I needed to expel some of the nervous energy that talking to my old man had created.
“Have you tried rekindling it?” I asked, exasperated that he was going to give up on yet another marriage. “Even when a flame goes out, there are still hot coals. All you need is a little fuel, and you can have a roaring blaze again.”
“I know you’re a fireman and all, son, but relationships don’t work like that.”
“How would you know?
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