Become a PUBLISHED AUTHOR at just 1999/- INR!! Limited Period Offer
Become a PUBLISHED AUTHOR at just 1999/- INR!! Limited Period Offer

Making It Work

Making It Work

6 mins
773


They say marriage is sacred. They also say its sanctity is borne from the love of the people involved. But then why is it that some marriages are more sacred than others? More accepted than others?


Mom tells me I have to marry in my own status. A good husband is rich, good-looking, and if his father drinks the same scotch as my father. His family is allowed to join with mine only if the mother sits at home, daintily sips wine, and orders everyone around all day. Only if his sister had good grades and dresses conservatively. She even has the perfect Indian wedding planned (she says that we can have too if the guy isn’t Indian). But maybe she’s wrong. She once told me that love will come later of its own accord. To marry a “suitable” man first. But what if suitable is different for me?


Alex Montgomery is my parents’ “suitable” man. He is the heir to the Montgomery empire built upon the slaving of thousands of men and women whose benefits are reaped by the gold-trimmed white collars. He is handsome and throws money at anything that bothers him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him use his brain to reason through a problem. A stack of hundred dollar bills seems to do the trick every time. He is a smooth talker and nice enough to me. His father currently runs the empire and is good friends and a valuable business partner to mine. His mother occasionally invites mine out to the Teahouse on the corner down the street to gossip and eat finger foods. Everything is picture perfect.


But he’s not my perfection. I haven’t found mine. But I imagine him having beautiful blue eyes I could drown in. A vintage car. Popular the way a star quarterback is. Athletic. Soft blond hair. A daydream. Likes all the same foods and music I like. I still haven’t found him yet though. I'm not a fancy thing kinda girl. I'm more wild and spontaneous.


***

It’s a regular spring day. I want a cupcake and there’s a food truck in Central Park that serves the best ones. I order a large chocolate chip cupcake and sit down at the last free table. As I begin to read a book someone knocks on the table. A boy looks at me with expectant eyes. He looks like he runs with the wrong crowd. He is wearing a leather jacket and a tattoo peeks above the collar. His ears are pierced and he’s wearing torn skinny jeans. I instantly become wary.


“Hi! May I sit here? Everyone else looks like they’re afraid I’ll ruin their perfect afternoon by existing within 5 feet of them. Please?”


I soften and take my feet off the other chair. He sits and sets his blueberry cupcake on the table. I go back to reading my novel and he stares at me. After a minute or so I snap. Just as I’m about to open my mouth, he speaks.


“I’m trying to read the words on your t-shirt but I’m dyslexic. What does it say?”

“It says “So Imperfect I’m Perfect”.”

“That’s nice. What book are you reading?”

“Some chick lit.” He makes a face and I smile despite myself. “Yeah, I figured that happy endings and sunshine and rainbows aren’t your cup of tea.”


“Hey! Maybe it is!” I laugh outright. “Give me the book! I’ll read it.”

I hand it to him and he takes one look at the pink cover with a couple silhouetted against a sunset and hands it back. I continue giggling. “What do you think? Do you like it? Not sugary enough?”

We both continue laughing. I leave after a few minutes of conversation. Those few minutes were far more interesting than the long, tedious dinner dates with Alex.


***

I’m getting married today. To Alex. Because once again, I couldn’t say no. As I am decked out in silk and jewels I think about the guy I met in the park that day. I never saw him again but I did figure out why he insisting on looking at the book despite his dyslexia and his personal tastes. He was willing to give my tastes a chance. He had just met me and I was different but maybe he could try out my chick-lit book just that once.


The wedding went by in a blur. I tuned back in during the final ceremony. Alex looked weird in traditional Indian clothes. Not bad though. We had already had a Christian wedding. He leaned over and said, “You have been thinking about that guy in the park haven’t you?”


I jerked away, shocked. He caught me easily. He continued on, “I was coming over to see you but your mother said you were at the Park so I went there. You were laughing and having fun with him. More so than you ever did with me.”


“Then why did you agree to this?”

“Same reason you did. I couldn’t say no without massive amounts of disappointment coming my way.”


After that ceremony and the reception, we got into a car. We would spend the night at a hotel before leaving for our honeymoon. But Alex leaned forward and whispered something in the driver’s ear. He turned the car around and I frowned.


“Where are we going?”

“You didn’t eat at dinner. You kind of just poked at food and pretended. We’re going to get food.”

“If we go to Rico’s and get a duck confit I swear--” We pulled up next to a McDonald’s. “Nevermind Rico’s. What are we doing at a fast food place when I’m in a wedding dress?”


“Here take off the skirt and put on pants. There should be a hoodie in the back. Your makeup kit and jewelry box should be there too.” Alex smiled. “I had your sister put them there.” Then both he and the driver left the car. I smiled and changed.


I emerged from the car in jeans and a hoodie with no makeup or jewelry other than a necklace that was a pre-wedding gift from Alex. Maybe we would be just fine. I could learn to deal with the occasional fancy dinner and vacation if he could allow a wedding dinner at McDonald’s.


I did make vows after all. And so did he. We would make it work with some compromises. We smiled and walked into the fast food place with huge smiles on our faces.

The sanctity and joy of marriage is borne from love but love takes many different forms


Rate this content
Log in

Similar english story from Drama