Chapter 3
3
In the three years they’ve been together, Derrick has never once surprised Elsie. There have been no flowers just because, no errand that was secretly a birthday party. That he’s a Vikings fan was obvious, that his favorite movie is Fight Club wasn’t shocking. Even the proposal—he’d hinted at marriage so much by then, Elsie was expecting it. Maybe she wasn’t expecting him to hop onstage as she got handed her associate’s degree and get down on one knee right there, the public spectacle of her nightmares, but the proposal itself wasn’t shocking.
So when Derrick says, “I wanna show you something, but it’s a surprise,” after picking her up from her shift at the store on Saturday afternoon, Elsie really has no idea what’s about to happen.
She closes her eyes, as instructed, while he drives. “Where are we going?”
“I just told you it’s a surprise!”
“Can I have a hint?”
“No, ma’am.” Elsie’s eyes may be closed, but she can tell Derrick is grinning.
Elsie doesn’t like surprises, is the thing. Her relationship with Derrick works just fine with no surprises—they live together in their quiet one-bedroom apartment in Minneapolis, she spends six days a week at her parents’ hardware store while he works selling vacuum cleaners. Their life is simple, and predictable, and she likes that.
She doesn’t like surprises and she doesn’t like driving around with her eyes closed. Is her perception off with only four senses, or are they going in circles? Elsie leans forward and adjusts the heat vents to point at her instead of trying to keep track of every turn.
After what feels like half an hour, Derrick pulls into what Elsie assumes is a parking spot and puts the truck in park.
“Just stay there a second,” Derrick says.
His seat belt unbuckles; his door opens, letting in a whoosh of cold air, then closes again. His footsteps round the front of the truck toward Elsie’s side, then her door opens.
“Keep ’em closed,” he instructs, and helps her out of the truck.
Aren’t your other senses supposed to pick up when you lose one? Elsie’s don’t seem to. Derrick’s hand on her arm is just his hand. The air is just cold, and smells like… nothing. Like the city. It sounds that way, too—nothing particularly standing out to give Elsie a hint to where they are. If anything, she’s lost more than just her vision; her legs wobble like she’s forgotten how to walk.
Derrick leads her a few steps forward, then says, finally, “Okay. Open your eyes.”
Elsie keeps one eye squinched closed, too apprehensive about what she might find.
They’re at… some brick building? She opens her other eye. That doesn’t help her understand where they are, or why Derrick insisted it be a surprise. The building is long, one story, its bricks painted a creamy off-white. The roof hangs over the sides far enough to be more like an awning than an eave, and on top is a cupola—Elsie is pretty sure that’s what it’s called—square-paned windows on each side and topped with bronze or copper or some other reddish-brown metal. There’s an old wagon down a ways against the side of the building, along with some planters—snowed over months ago by this point—made of railroad ties, which is the only reason Elsie is able to guess:
“We’re at… an old train station?”
Derrick grins. “Wait until you see inside.”
Inside is mostly just open space—like a banquet hall or concert venue, though there’s not really a stage. The walls are the same creamy off-white as the exterior, the trim painted dark green. It still says TICKETS over a window off to the side.
There is an old-school train schedule board above the doors they came through. Instead of departure and arrival times, it reads CONGRATULATIONS, MR. AND MRS. BAUER! TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE! Elsie doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s close. The phrase is both trite and meaningless— every day is the first day of the rest of your life.
It takes her a second to process: “ Mr. and Mrs. Bauer? ”
Derrick’s grin grows even wider. “Pretty good venue, don’t you think? I couldn’t get them to put up the twinkle lights in advance because they have another event here tomorrow, but they’ll be up for us.”
Another second of processing. “Wait. You want us to get married here?”
Her first issue is that she has never said she would take his last name.
“I don’t just want. We are getting married here.”
“We are?”
Derrick takes her hands in his. “You know how you’re always too busy to talk about the wedding? How even the idea of picking a date is overwhelming to you because of everything you want to do at the store?”
Elsie nods, though none of that helps her understand why he said they’re getting married here.
“I took it all off your plate, baby,” Derrick says. “The venue, the caterer, the photographer, the honeymoon. We’re gonna have white tablecloths and royal-blue accents. I picked the flowers and the silverware and everything. You don’t have to do a single thing but get a dress.”
Elsie can’t feel her feet. They could’ve turned into tree trunks, rooting her to the ground, and she would have no idea. It’s like they’re not there.
“What?” she manages to say.
“We’re getting married. Here. A week from today.”
The not-there feeling is moving up past Elsie’s knees. She’s losing her entire bottom half.
“A week from today?”
“I know it’s fast, but that’s good. This time next week—” He lets go of one of her hands to check his watch. “Well, actually, like four hours from now next week, we’ll be married, and you won’t have to think about wedding planning ever again.”
“You know the exact time?”
“Well, yeah, I had to know what to put on the invitations.”
Elsie drops his other hand, presses her fingertips to her forehead. “Okay. So, like—people are already invited. Other people already know this is happening, but I don’t.”
“Well, I only sent them out yesterday, so people probably don’t have them yet,” Derrick says. “And it’s not that many other people—I know that’s like the one thing you knew you wanted, a pretty small wedding. Fifty guests, tops. And that also kept costs down, which meant I could do another surprise.”
“Another,” Elsie says, not so much a question as a dread.
Derrick’s smile is so damn cute it almost makes Elsie forget she’s about to have a panic attack.
“We’re going to Santa Lupita for the honeymoon,” he says. “A whole week, all-inclusive, with our own private over-water bungalow. It’s going to be amazing. ”
The high today in Minneapolis is seven degrees. The Caribbean sounds like heaven. It also sounds impossible.
“Derrick, how am I supposed to go on a honeymoon? You know I can’t take a week off from the store.”
“No, babe, I talked to your dad already. He loved the idea. He’s already approved it all.”
Is there anyone besides her who doesn’t know about this?
Elsie didn’t like to think about wedding planning because she didn’t know what she wanted. Now there’s a venue and a caterer, place settings and decorations and invitations already sent out. Her parents know. It doesn’t feel like what she wants matters anymore.
Derrick has never been particularly talented at figuring out Elsie’s mood, and today is no different: he’s grinning just as big as when they first came inside, seemingly unaware of the way Elsie’s feet have cemented to the ground and her stomach has dropped out of her body and all the blood has drained from her face. All that, and still Derrick’s excitement hasn’t lessened one iota. He’s like a golden retriever, too simple to be anything but happy.
Jesus, she cannot think about someone she’s supposed to marry like that.
It’s a good thing, most of the time—Derrick’s inability to be in anything but a good mood. He’s kind, and an optimist, and prevents Elsie from wallowing in her lows. But it also makes Elsie feel like a monster any time she makes him sad.
So she doesn’t say what were you thinking? or I don’t want this or even I’m sorry.
She says, “I guess I’d better go dress shopping,” and Derrick grins even bigger.
Elsie feels like she might puke.