Page 11 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

He isn’t trying now.

As Emma approaches, I work to control my breathing, to slow my heart rate, but none of my usual tactics work. All I want —no. All Ineedis to get this over with as soon as possible. The reality of being in a wedding chapel with someone whoisn’tJessdoesn’t sit well with my soul.

Traitor, my inner voice hisses at me.

But I’m done. I’m done with all that shit. The inner voice calling me a traitor. Jess’s voice on replay saying ‘I love you.’ Saying ‘don’t call me.’ Soon, that shit will all be over. Soon.

Emma isn’t smiling anymore, but she’s not exactly frowning as she comes to stand beside me at the front of the altar. The officiant begins, but my ears get hot, and all the sound turns muffled. I focus on an arrangement of faux florals behind Emma to keep me rooted, but then all it takes is one blink, and the officiant is already asking me if I do. And, “I do,” I say solemnly, sliding the solitaire diamond ring and its encrusted wedding band onto Emma’s finger.

She gasps in surprise at the sight.

And then it’s her turn. She says a quiet, “I do,” and I slip her the gold band I bought this morning. She slides it onto my finger in turn.

“And by the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife! You may now kiss your bride!”

Emma hesitates, and I shake my head once.No. With her feet planted firmly on the ground, I lean forward to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. The officiant eyes us warily, but I don’t give a fuck.

I’d just done it. Sealed my fate. Jess would never want me again.

I push down the urge to vomit.

There’s no clapping or cheering, and rightfully so. We pose for one photo, taken by Blanks, and then we’re standing outside in a strip mall parking lot. Again.

“So…” Emma trails off, unsure what comes next.Same.

I check the time on my watch. “We fly out early tomorrow morning. We can just meet in the lobby around 5:00 A.M.?” I got her her own room at the Four Seasons. I’m trying to set a clear boundary that this is a business arrangement. We’re transactional.

Blanks is focusing on his phone and not paying attention to the conversation.

I watch as she glances at Blanks and then back to me. “That’s all?” I can’t discern her expression from her face or her tone.

“If you need something, Dave can take you anywhere.” More quietly, I ask, “Or do you need more money?” I haven’t had a chance to make the initial deposit to Emma’s account, but I will.

“I just thought,” her brows pinch together, “that we might get dinner or something.” She finally lets the arm that’s been holding up her bouquet fall defeatedly.

I pause, letting the opportunity and possibilities play out, but, “I can’t…sorry.” I tack the apology on at the end. I have a precedent to set that I’m not fucking interested. At all. Not in spending time together, not even in making the most of a fucking weird situation. This fake marriage isn’t like it was with Jess. Where all I wanted was Jess, all I needed was her. Like she was the fucking air I breathed. She was an all-consuming, drown-in-her type of love.

This ain’t that.

That’s all Ihadwanted, at least. Now, all I need is to hurt Jess and not much else.

Pain seems to be our currency. Just a constant, fluid exchange between the two of us. There isn’t much I wouldn’t give to see her face twist at the sting, to watch her come to the same understanding as me that whatever we could have been is dead. It shriveled under my brokenness but under hers, too. Maybe if she took equal ownership of our downfall, I wouldn’t be here, standing next to my wife, who isn’t her.

It doesn’t matter, though, whether I see it. It changes nothing, and in the end, for every hurt I cause Jess, I would do anything to make it right again. I’m still doing this for her. My freedom for hers. My life for hers. She can do what she wants with that.

Emma watches me skeptically, taking in the thoughts playing out on my face. Reading the deep grooves between my eyebrows, my clenched jaw, or at least she’s trying to.

I inhale once and release the tension.

“I think I’ll just head back to the hotel then, too…” Emma resigns. I want to ask if she’s really okay with that, but I hesitate. Is this one question the stepping stone? That’s how it started with Jess. Just a couple simple questions.

How are you?

Fine.

Answering had been indulgent. I see that now.

Blanks slides his phone into his pocket, then offers, “What’d you have in mind for dinner?”