Chapter 6
River
Only me. Stuff like this only happens to me.
And now I’m driving aimlessly around town, trying to process.
Ever tried driving around aimlessly after being proposed to “for business purposes only”? I can’t talk to Skye about it. I can’t talk to anyone about it. It’s ludicrous. So, when Skye gets picked up by the Caring Souls van, I go for a drive.
I would have preferred rage journaling, but all my journals have been packed up and I can’t find them. They’re in some random box somewhere.
My dad won a costume contest once and got a cruise to the Mexican Rivera. He had to pay a bunch of fees and taxes on it but still, it was a cruise. Jana needed a new fridge when we were college roommates living in an apartment owned by her grandparents. Before she could even ask them to replace it, she saw one sitting on the side of the road with a “Free”
sign on it. It was in pristine condition. She freaking still has it to this day.
But not me. In junior high, I started swimming so much that my blonde hair turned green. I bought some drugstore solution to fix it and the next thing I knew, my hair was falling out in clumps.
The summer I turned eighteen, I decided to ask my parents for money to go on a trip instead of something sensible, like to put towards college tuition. They gave me a few hundred bucks. I poured it all into one of those travel sites and found out later it was a pyramid scheme, and I’d just bought a tiny portion of a timeshare in—get this—my own hometown of Longdale, not Vermont like I’d thought.
In college, I was on a plane to Seattle for a conference for my public relations major and was the lucky gal who was seated next to an actual Doomsdayer who, whenever the seatbelt sign was off, stood on his chair, literally, and condemned us all to hell. He had to be taken down in handcuffs and in the scuffle, I walked away with a huge gash on my forehead. They had to ground the plane and made me get off so I could get stitches. I never even made it to my conference in Seattle.
So you can see why I don’t fly anymore, right? And that’s not even considering what happened to my parents a couple of years later.
I know it is hard to believe that someone could be so unlucky and have the strangest things happen, but it’s true. I have at least a dozen or more stories like that. When people find out, they inevitably say a variation of: “You should write a book about how crazy your life is!”
Maybe I should. And the title could be, Memoir of a Girl Who Got Proposed to by a Virtual Stranger Because He Needed His Job Back.
Terrible title, but you get the idea.
It’s so crazy, I can’t even tell Jana about it, yet. Someday I’ll laugh about this, right?
But Jana knows me. She knows something’s wrong. So when she calls as I’m driving around, I answer it, like a fool. She asks me how things went with Gabriel, and I start laughing so much I get teary-eyed and have to pull over.
“What is wrong, River?”
She’s exasperated. “Just tell me what he said.”
I huff out a sigh. “Nothing. I’m just preoccupied. Worried about Skye.”
That’s not a lie. I’m always, always, always worried about her.
“Does this have to do with what Gabriel Tate said?”
“No.”
That’s definitely a lie.
Finally, I recover enough to begin driving again and then it all starts to come out. Like foam out of the mouth of a rabies victim.
“He came over and sat on the church yard sale sofa.”
I pause while I wait for a car to pass so I can turn and continue my aimless driving.
“And?”
“He was cute with Skye.”
It comes out as a growl.
Jana knows how it is sometimes. How hard it is when people don’t get to know my sister. They make judgments just like that, about what she’s capable of and what she needs. What she’s really like.
“And you’re mad about that because . . .?”
“Not mad. It just sort of muddies the waters.”
“So you took the freelance thing he was offering you?”
“No. Because it’s not a freelance thing. Not exactly.”
“Well, what is it? And why are you angry that he was nice to Skye?”
“Jana, they rapped together. They hip-hop danced together! I didn’t even know that Skye knew anything about rap, but she knew all the words.”
“What is she watching on her iPad?”
Then she laughs. “That actually sounds adorable, though.”
I’m at a stop sign, so I briefly close my eyes. “It was. It was totally adorable. It made Skye’s day.”
Jana laughs. “I’m trying to figure out why you’re so upset. Did you turn him down for the job but now you’re regretting it?”
“I’m not regretting it. Not exactly.”
Since Jana’s sort of all I’ve got, I decide to just be out with it.
“Jana, he asked me to enter a marriage contract.”
She snorts. “What does that even mean? And please say you said yes.”
I give her a withering look through the phone. It’s too bad she can’t see it. “He only asked me because he thinks being married will help him get his job back. I basically kicked him out of my house.”
She gasps. “But why kick him out? He’s . . . he’s a Tate! And not just any Tate. He’s the cutest, nicest one. Not that looks matter that much. I’m just saying, in the hierarchy of Tate men’s outer appearances, they go from smokin’ to gritty to beautiful. Gabriel’s on that end of the spectrum.”
“Can Markus hear what you’re saying?”
When she only giggles, I go on. “And how do you know he’s nice? Have you ever talked to him?”
I had her there. “Well, I don’t have to. I know what they say about him.”
“Well, they are wrong. There’s nothing special about Gabriel Tate. He’s human like the rest of us.”
Something in my tone gets her fired up. “What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
I wave her away like she’s got it all wrong. She doesn’t. But it’s best if I only tell her the most necessary facts. No sense in spreading rumors. I wouldn’t gossip about stuff like this even if I wasn’t in PR.
“He did get fired recently.”
I figure this information is vital to Jana’s comprehension of the gravity of the situation.
“Doesn’t he work for his dad?”
“Yeah. It’s complicated. Anyway, his dad wants him to prove himself trustworthy and principled again.”
I shrug. “So he’s asking women to marry him so he can show he’s a committed, responsible member of society. I don’t know. I don’t understand rich people and their rules.”
“Well, neither do I, but this is cray-cray. Women? He’s asked multiple?”
I can hear her sipping her nightly cup of chamomile tea.
“No.”
But then it hits me. I don’t know. Maybe he’s been asking people all month long and no one’s said yes.
It all just points to the fact that I know almost nothing about this man. I thought I did, from a hazy, rose-colored distance. But I don’t.
I drive in silence. It’s cathartic, driving on quiet roads. Then finally I say, “He offered to pay for Skye’s care. And it would only be until his dad gives him the job back. He’s supposed to take over the whole company when his dad retires.”
She gasps again. “He’s paying for Skye to go to Caring Souls?”
“Well, if I’d said yes, then yeah, he would have.”
“Call up that golden man right now and say you’ve changed your mind.”
“Jana!”
“He’s a great guy. He’s handsome and rich and he’s offering to pay for your sister’s care. The marriage is only temporary. There are zero downsides to this. Except maybe that the marriage is only temporary.”
“I’d have to pretend, though. Pretend we’re in love. And what about Skye?
She got attached instantly. Like, she started asking about him the moment he left. She’d be so sad when we split up.”
“Maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll live happily ever after!”
“Just because you’re happily married doesn’t mean that’s for everyone else, too.”
I realize I’ve turned on Lakeside Road and can see Longdale Lake on my right, it’s inky blackness hovering in my vision like it’s going to swallow me whole.
“I know. I know. I just think the benefits of all of this outweigh the costs,”
Jana says.
Jana is analytical. A woman of science. There’s a lot of formulation going on right now. Of course she’d do a cost analysis in her head.
I always had it in the back of my mind that I could get married. Theoretically. If I’m honest, I’d love to get married and have kids. But Skye needs me, and I’d have to find the person who understands she’s not just my sister, she’s an integral part of my life, my responsibility. You can’t love me without accepting and loving my sister, too. You can’t love me without understanding that she isn’t going anywhere and that she’s my top priority.
So I’ve made peace that marriage might not happen for me. I could meet someone and fall in love, but they might not be the right fit for Skye. In which case, there would be no more “someone.”
It’s okay.
To prove my point: want to know the number of dates I’ve been on since my parents died?
Zero.
And before that, I had braces for years. I don’t know. I didn’t feel confident in them. For some reason, I got it in my head that I couldn’t start to date someone and kiss them with my braces on. I felt so . . . pubescent and pimply. Even though I was mostly past the pimple stage.
Again, it’s fine. I adore my job, sister, friends, and Longdale. I’ll figure out some hobbies at some point. There is a full life ahead of me regardless of my relationship status, something I’ve assured Jana of many times.
“This isn’t a question of if I’m going to do it or not,”
I say. “I only mentioned it to prove that, once again, my life is weirder than reality television.”
“You are so right. It’s like the potato thing all over again. Okay, here’s another chapter for that book you’ll make millions on: Chapter 15: That one time I got proposed to by a hot, rich man and turned him down.”
And by potato thing, she means the time I was in science class my senior year and we were making those potato powered batteries to light a lightbulb. While readying the potatoes, I peeled a huge, ribbony chunk of skin off my finger with the peeler. Upon glimpsing that chunk of skin dangling off the peeler, I promptly fainted and got a concussion. That experience is the gold star, the standard, I think.
There is no response that would be adequate. “I gotta go,”
I tell Jana. “I have to stop for gas and then get back to Skye.”
We end the call, my stomach full of buzzing bees.
Too bad I never even make it to the gas station.