Chapter 34
Captain Kendra’s Log: It’s bigger than ketchup.
The final strains of “Single Ladies” faded out, and the crowd went wild. It was the second time we sang the Beyoncé song - in a row. True tried for a third, but I slapped The Bride Card into her hand and called it quits.
Good news. I no longer had to sing.
Bad news. She had The Bride Card.
“Let’s get a drink and sit for a bit,” I said, pulling her through the crowd. “My back is killing me.”
True made kissy face noises and may have thrown a “Bow-chicka-bow-wow” in there as we made it to a table in the back. I flashed two fingers at my brother, and he headed to the bar to make our order.
“Why does your back hurt so much? Getting freaky with your fiancé?” True made more kissy-face noises.
“Cut that out.” I elbowed her in the ribs. “Yes. And No. We were working on my boat today.”
She smiled and hugged me. “It’s so nice you two have that in common.”
I nodded. It was nice to share that with someone who understood. And when he talked about power cells and inverters, I will not lie; my panties got a little damp.
A cloud passed over True’s face. “Must be nice.”
I bumped her with my shoulder. “It is. But don’t you and Jesse have things in common like that?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t even know I wanted to open my own bakery someday. He thinks I want to stay at home and pump out kids!”
“Seems like something y’all should have talked about before saying yes to the dress,” I said.
“We did,” True sighed. “When we first met, we were on the same page about everything. He recently went through a divorce and was relieved it was over. He talked about the lawyers and fees and all that nonsense. He was in no hurry to get married again. He also has an adult son, so he didn’t want kids. ”
“You didn’t want kids either?”
“No. That’s not something you can say around too many people.
You get called selfish for not wanting to bring kids into this messed-up world.
Or you worry you’ll be a bad mother like yours was before she died,” True sighed.
“To which well-meaning people say things like ‘at least you know how to do it better.’”
“Idiots,” I said.
“Amen to that.”
“Why do they feel like they have a say?”
“Because women are supposed to make babies and be happy with motherhood. But motherhood is hard. It’s 24/7. Jesse doesn’t even know where the damn ketchup is. Can you imagine if I had to have two of those in my house? At least a baby has an excuse!” True shouted.
I laughed because she was right.
“What made you fall in love with him?” I asked. “Can’t be the ketchup.”
She snort-laughed. “Lord, no. I love him despite the ketchup. Right after we started dating, it hadn’t gotten very serious, but I became very ill.
Violently ill. I had been sick for a few days, miserable in my temporary apartment.
And I guess I coughed so hard that Jesse could hear me upstairs.
He knocked on my door to see if I was okay, and when he saw how bad I looked, he wrapped me in a blanket and carried me to the car.
He drove me straight to the emergency room, where they diagnosed me with pneumonia. ”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. It was bad. I thought it was bronchitis or something, but no. Pneumonia. It was so bad they thought they might need to put me on a ventilator, but thankfully, the antibiotics and therapies kicked in.”
“How long were you in the hospital?” I asked.
“A week,” True answered. “Jesse came to see me every day. He didn’t do that thing that some people do when they come to see you in the hospital. You know, where they make it all about them? Or they ask you to entertain them, even though you’re hooked up to a thousand machines and feel like ass.”
I snorted. “Facts.”
“Jesse sat with me. Sometimes, he read me a passage from one of his romance novels.” She smiled as she shared the story.
“Sometimes, he held my hand until I fell asleep. But he was there for me when I needed him. So, I look past when he pulls this nonsense about not knowing where the ketchup is or pretending he doesn’t know how to do laundry. I remember the hospital.”
Boots delivered our drinks, and I sipped the specialty cocktail. “No regrets then?”
She shrugged. “Well. This week has been interesting.”
“Hasn’t it?”
When she didn’t answer, I saw her slowly stirring her cocktail with a paper straw. I didn’t tell her the paper would disintegrate quicker if she kept doing that. She looked miserable enough.
“True? Are you sure you want to get married tomorrow?”
She looked up at me and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “No.”