1 #3
When I first stumbled upon wedding wrecking, I told myself it would be just one time.
That I was helping someone; that love, real love, should survive a little scrutiny.
Then I did it again. And again. And suddenly, I stopped needing to lie to myself about why.
Because the truth is, people don’t get married for love. Not always. Not often.
People get married for so many reasons that have nothing to do with love.
Money. Timing. Guilt. Social pressure. Because they’re scared to be alone.
Because their mom likes him. Because it looks good on paper.
Because they’re thirty-two and tired of dating apps.
Because it’s easier than breaking up and starting from scratch.
It’s not that I don’t believe in love. I do. I have so much love in me—it’s kind of the problem.
That’s why this job makes sense.
If love is real, if it’s as rare and valuable as everyone says, then what I’m doing is a service. Stopping people who don’t really feel it from walking down the aisle anyway. Making space for something truer to find them later.
Or at least keeping them from signing a contract with someone they’re already lying to.
Or maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better about blowing up other people’s fairy tales, because mine didn’t work out.
God, okay. That’s enough of a spiral for one night.
Needing a distraction, I dial Taina. She answers on the third ring.
“Hey, Taina.”
“Hey, Lucy.”
Her tone sucks every drop of relaxation from my body. Taina never answers the phone without greeting me as a ho or bitch or both. She once called me Slut-bucket while I was in the break room at work.
My heart starts to pound and my brain surges forward with every possible devastating scenario.
Losing both my parents left an ever-present fear that the universe will come and finish the job by taking Taina away.
I have to remind myself that she’s on the phone, so nothing could possibly be as earth shattering as that.
“What’s wrong?”
“I left for a few hours to meet a friend,” she begins.
“Just a few hours! And then when I came back—well—I tried to stop him. I swear, I didn’t even notice the eviction notice he’d taped on the door.
I even offered to pay the rent, but I guess he doesn’t trust you won’t be late again.
That bastard must have been waiting until both of us left the place. ”
Dread fills me, streaming from the pit of my stomach and spreading everywhere. “Taina, what are you talking about?”
“You’ve been evicted.”
Time pauses, and my heartbeat does too. “I sent him half the payment! He was supposed to let me stay.”
“I’m sorry.”
This can’t be right. He swore to me I could pay half now and the rest later. I rub my chest, and my heart starts to lose a steady rhythm. Maybe he just agreed to get what little out of me I had. And you, a grown woman, were naive enough to fall for it.
Taina says, “Whatever he didn’t trash, I’m having sent to my place.” Muffled, distant, she says to someone else, “Fuck you; my husband will sue you for all you have, you absolute asshole. You’re lucky I don’t shove those keys down your wrinkled-ass throat, you lizard-looking bastard.”
God, I can’t even bring myself to ask what she managed to keep. Everything, everything in there was from our parents. I didn’t get rid of a single thing after their death. Almost everything they ever owned is in storage or in Taina’s basement, but the rest, the best stuff, was in my apartment.
With me, so I could feel them every day. So it wouldn’t feel like they were in an unreachable place. So I wouldn’t be alone.
“It’s a blessing in disguise,” Taina says in my ear, focus back on me. “You’ll be more secure with me, and we can see each other more. Your place was at risk of falling apart any moment anyway. This is exciting!” Again, muffled, to someone else. “Fuck you.”
I love my little sister, but God I don’t enjoy her voice very much right now. No way I would turn a miserable moment for her into a silver lining, not until she’s had the proper time to process. It’s been thirty seconds. I deserve at least sixty.
I turn off my phone. I close my eyes and try to breathe through my nose. Try to be calm. I hate being upset. Really, being sad is the worst. Your stomach feels raw and filled with rock salt and your eyes swell until keeping them open creates this headache, like a woodpecker is stuck behind them.
My hands grip my phone so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. I take another breath and it turns into a sob.
I pitch my phone to the other side of the room. It slams against the wall, and all I can think is, How much is that going to cost?
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
I rub my knuckles against my chest. Pressing as if it’ll stop my heart from beating so damn erratic.
I should have asked Taina what she managed to save. Now I’ll just think all the best stuff is gone. The Wall of Memories. Our family dog’s ashes. Dad’s favorite baseball glove. Mom’s go-to pot for rice. I need it all. It’s like glue linking me to them. A direct connection whenever I need them.
Evicted and jobless. But I can’t think about that now . . . I have a wedding to wreck.