Page 75 of Married in Michigan

“Remember Paxton?” I ask, my voice heavy and flat.

She nods. “You hated him.”

“I didn’t hate him, I just…” I swallow hard. “I’ve agreed to marry him.”

Mom blinks once. And then, slowly, with visible effort, she sits up, shaking and sweating from the exertion necessary for something so simple. “Youwhat?”

I nod. “In a month.” I close my eyes, because I can’t admit the rest with her eyes boring into me. “I’ve been living with him in DC.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.” I weigh my options. “His mother is forcing him to get married. I think I mentioned the situation, but it’s for political reasons, mainly. The plan is, we’ll get married, stay married for a while, and then get divorced. He has a bad reputation, playboy and all that. Well deserved, but really, it’s not who he is. It’s just an image he has, and getting married, having me around cleans that up. Then, when we split up, I’m taken care of. And I mean taken care of in a way you cannot even fathom.”

“You sleep with him yet?” Mom’s eyes are sharp; MS has robbed her of her physical mobility, but her mind is as sharp as it ever has been. More so, maybe, because it’s all she has now.

“No.”

“You want to.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“He’s good-looking. And a lot nicer than I thought. He comes across as arrogant—well, heisarrogant. But there’s more to him.”

Mom’s smile is wicked. “Youlikehim.”

“It’s an arrangement. It has an expiration date. I can’t like him.” It’s odd, the twinge deep down inside when I say that.

“Mack.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“How’d you pay?” She shifts tracks faster than anyone I know. “We were behind, now we’re not.”

“How do you know?”

She smirks. “I have my ways.”

“Not important. I took care of it. I’ll always take care of it. No matter what I have to do.”

She straightens again, eyes blazing. “Rules, Mack.” She’s getting tired, making it harder for her to speak.

“I am following the rules. The rules are keeping me from sleeping with him. This isn’t sexual, Mom. It’s an arrangement. I play wife for him, help him with his image, and then we will develop irreconcilable differences. We both move on.”

“And you get money.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Something like that. A house, probably. A trust to make sure things are set.”

She sighs. “Doing this for me.” She seems sad, now. “You lied.”

I swallow, blink back tears. “Mom, come on. I was drowning. Three jobs, sixty, eighty hours a week and all my money went here.” I blink harder. “I was lonely, and he seems to like me. It can’t be anything, but it’s still nice to be liked.”

She nods, weakly. “He know about me?”

“He knows that my mom has health issues.”

A bitter bark of a laugh. “He know his money is going to take care of an angry, sick old black lady?”

“It’s not his business.”

“You marryin’ the man, Mack. It is.” A pause, as she gathers strength again. “How did you pay?”