Marrying My Best Friend

I sat at my parents’ dining room table surrounded by several friends and family members. I didn’t know how I got there, but we were stuffing envelopes with beautiful cards that appeared to be invitations to some sort of ceremony. My sister and mother were there along with my grandmothers, my aunts, a few of my female cousins, and a couple of my close friends. 

One of my aunts asked me, “How does it feel to getting married, again?”

I paused for a moment and then realized we were preparing the invitations for my wedding. I couldn’t believe it. I became excited. Getting married again was one of my heart’s desires, especially after being divorced for nearly five years. 

“It feels good,” I responded. 

I imagined my wedding day. A beautiful mermaid gown; my hair styled in a classic updo; my groom looking dapper; my bridesmaids in lavender dresses; the groomsmen in black tuxedos; my four tier cake. Everything was going to be amazing and I couldn’t wait. 

Just then, one of my best female friends walked into the house. I was happy she was there to help me prepare for my big day. 

She greeted me, “Hey Honey, “and joined the rest of us as we put together the invitations. 

I thanked her for coming to help us and stressed how much I appreciated her being there.

My best friend laughed, “Why wouldn’t I be here? It’s my wedding, too.”

My eyes squinted with confusion. I didn’t understand what she meant by, ‘It’s my wedding, too’. Were we doing a double wedding? I wasn’t aware that she was dating anyone. Like me, she was divorced. And like me, she wanted to get married again. I didn’t want to be selfish, but the thought of doing a double wedding didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want to share my day with another couple. 

One of my cousins smiled at me and then looked at my best friend. “You two have been friends for all these years and y’all are finally getting married. That’s so sweet. Where are y’all going for the honeymoon?”

I asked my best friend, “We’re going on the honeymoon together, too? Don’t you think sharing a wedding is enough?”

Everyone in the room burst into laughter. They were in hysterics and I was the only one with a serious expression. 

My best friend responded, “Oh Honey, you're so funny. Of course we’re going on the honeymoon together. That’s what married couples do. I can’t go to the Bahamas without my bride.”

Suddenly my heart dropped. Reluctantly, I slowly looked down at the invitation and read the words that were typed in an elegant script font. 

The Honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Mrs. and Mrs. Rowland

Oh my goodness! The invitation read, ‘Mrs. and Mrs. Rowland’. Two Mrs.’ and no Mister. I felt like I was in an episode of The Twilight Zone.  I guess that’s why my best friend kept calling me ‘Honey’. She never called me that. I couldn’t believe I was engaged to be married to my best friend who was a woman. I wasn’t a lesbian and to the best of my knowledge she wasn’t either. Of course I loved her. We had been friends for nearly twenty years, but I wasn’t in love with her. 

I tried to think of how I was going to get out of that situation. I needed to tell everyone in the room that they could stop stuffing envelopes because there was not going to be a wedding. I didn’t want to disappoint everyone…

…and thankfully I didn’t have to because I woke up from the dream at that moment.

Date Night: Part 2

I woke up feeling light headed. I figured this was due to my previous deep sleep. I was just happy that the crazy dream I had was over. I dreamt that my nephew accidentally burned his parents’ house down when his cooking efforts went terribly wrong. And the worst part was this tragedy had occurred on my watch, while I was babysitting. I recalled the nightmare and let out a sigh of relief. Then I opened my eyes wider and took a good look at my surroundings. I became startled when I realized I wasn’t in my bedroom, but in the hospital.

What’s going on? I thought, relentlessly trying to make sense of my predicament. 

Suddenly a nurse walked into the room. “You’re finally awake,” she said in a chipper tone. 

“Why am I here?” I asked her.

The nurse began telling me everything she knew, as if it was juicy gossip. “After the fire, you got into a huge argument with one of the neighbors; a tall Haitian lady. She was upset with you for putting the kids’ lives in danger. Apparently, she got really mad when you tried to blame the fire on the little boy. She became violent and punched you so hard; you were out cold, immediately.”

I couldn’t believe it. I thought the fire had been a bad dream, but it had actually happened. 

 

“Where are the kids? Are they okay?” I inquired. 

“The kids are in the waiting room with your sister and brother-in-law. I’ll let them know that you’re awake.” 

The nurse exited the room. I was nervous about facing my family. I didn’t know if my sister and brother-in-law would be furious or just extremely sad. I had no idea what to expect, so I just waited there, anxiously.

The nurse returned with my family. My sister was holding my nephew, Phillip and my brother-in-law had his arm around my niece, Madison. They all had solemn expressions on their faces. 

My sister didn’t hesitate to search for answers. “What happened? We were only gone for a couple of hours. How did the house burn down?”

I told the story from the beginning and explained everything I could remember. I told her we were watching a movie. Then Phillip got bored and asked to watch Despicable Me on the iPad. Then someone knocked at the door and said they saw Phillip’s ad on Craigslist about a PlayStation 4 for sale. Then Phillip was trying to fry chicken in a shallow skillet which ignited a fire. I didn’t spare any of the bizarre details. 

My sister and brother-in-law shook their head with disbelief. 

“I think you must be imagining things,” my brother-in-law said trying to hold back his anger. “I guess getting knocked out by Ms. Pierre has caused permanent brain damage. There’s no way our three-year-old could have posted an ad on Craigslist. The biggest word he can spell is his first name. And you want me to believe someone paid a thousand dollars for a PS4.” 

I knew the story seemed far-fetched, but it was the truth and I was determined to prove it to them. Suddenly, I saw evidence that would prove my case. There was a wad of bills sticking out of Phillip’s back pocket. He must have taken the money from me when I was knocked unconscious. I reached over and grabbed the money from Phillip’s pocket.

“What are you doing?” my sister asked. 

“Ah Ha,” I said and held the evidence in my hand. “How else would he get one thousand dollars? This proves he sold that PS4 on Craigslist.”

I unfolded the bills, but to my disappointment it wasn’t 10- one hundred dollar bills, but 7- one dollar bills. My brother-in-law shook his head with disgust. Phillip began to cry, wanting his money back. Madison stared at me with pity. 

“You’re really losing it,” my sister sighed. “That’s only seven dollars. Phillip’s grandfather gave him that money.” 

The entire family focused on comforting Phillip. He continued to cry, as if I had traumatized him. After nearly five minutes of wailing, my nephew calmed down. 

I thought I had hit rock bottom, but somehow the situation worsened. 

My sister explained, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this, but I think we need to have you moved to the psych ward.” 

“No!” I protested, but it was too late. A team of doctors and nurses rushed in to restrain me. My family watched as they took me away in a straight jacket. I was begging my family to save me, but they just kept saying it was for the best. Before they took me out the room, I noticed Phillip in the corner. He grinned and winked at me, pulling the wad of 10- one hundred dollar bills out his front pocket. He quickly put the money away before his parents noticed. 

I was shocked by my nephew’s mischief. I had never seen that side of him. There was no use in trying to prove that I was telling the truth. I had been outsmarted by a three-year-old. I guess I was at fault, after all. I should have kept a closer eye on him while I was babysitting. I still couldn’t believe how my life had been turned upside down in only a few hours. 

It had all happened so fast.

Date Night: The Best Man Holiday

I was more than happy to babysit my niece and nephew while my sister and brother-in-law enjoyed a much-needed date night to see The Best Man Holiday. I loved those children, as if they were my own. Little Phillip was three-years-old (such a tender age) and my niece, Madison was ten. The three of us sat on the couch and said good-bye to their parents and encouraged them to have a great time. My sister reminded me of Phillip’s bed time and told me not to allow either of the kids to have too many snacks. Even at the age of three, Phillip was a night owl and would stay up until 2 am if I allowed him, but I planned to be firm. I told myself I wouldn’t fall for his tricks of telling me a hundred times that he needed to go potty in order to get out of bed. 

The evening began pleasantly. I allowed the kids to pick a movie on Netflix. We ate popcorn and laughed. Phillip became bored half way through the movie and asked if he could watch Despicable Me on the iPad. I wasn’t sure if his parents were okay with him using the iPad, but I didn’t want to call and bother them, so I agreed he could use the iPad, but only to watch the cartoon. 

Approximately an hour later, the doorbell rang. I asked Madison if they were expecting company. She said ‘no’. Her expression was as perplexed as mine. I told the kids to wait in the living room while I checked to see who was at the door. I looked through the peep hole and saw my brother-in-law’s best friend, Ricky. I was a relieved. I figured my brother-in-law had asked him to stop by and check on us. When I opened the door, I immediately realized that it wasn’t Ricky, but a guy who looked a lot like Ricky, through the peephole. I could have kicked myself for opening the door without confirming the man’s identity. 

“Is Phillip here?” he asked.
 

Why was this grown man looking for Phillip? 

He went on to say, “I saw his ad on Craigslist about the PS4 for sale.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Thoughts and questions were racing through my mind. How did Phillip get a PS4? How does a three-year-old know how to post ads on Craigslist? I had only taken my eyes off of him for a moment. I thought he was watching Despicable Me, but apparently he was toggling to Craigslist when I wasn’t watching. 

Phillip met us at the door. He was holding the PS4. I was furious. I grabbed the box from his hands and yelled for him to return to the living room while I handled the situation. 

When Phillip was out of sight, the man pulled out 10- one hundred dollar bills and asked if we could quickly complete the transaction because he had somewhere to be. I couldn’t believe my nephew had made a one thousand dollar sale at three-years-old. I didn’t know if I should have been angry or extremely proud. The man and I made the switch. He walked away with a new PS4 and I was one thousand dollars richer. 

I returned to the living room to see Madison has fallen asleep on the couch and Phillip was nowhere to be found. Suddenly the smell of fried chicken filled my nostrils. I walked into the kitchen to see my nephew standing on a step stool frying chicken in a shallow skillet. 

“Look Son-you, I’m cooking,” he advised, proudly. (He never pronounced my name correctly. Instead of Sonja, he said Son-you. But that was the least of my worries at that moment.)

I shrieked loudly as grease began to spill over the edge of the skillet and onto the gas stove. I leaped towards my nephew and knocked him onto the floor, milliseconds before a huge flame ignited. I picked him up and ran into the living room to alert Madison and we all ran out the house. 

The three of us watched as the house went up in flames. Neighbors began to come out of their homes to watch in horror. The sirens of the fire truck and police cars blared loudly. Less than a minute later, the news crew had arrived. 

The reporter advised viewers, “We are outside of home in a Dallas suburb where a babysitter apparently allowed the children to burn the house down.”

It all happened so fast. But at least no one was hurt, I was a thousand dollars richer, and my sister and brother-in-law enjoyed a wonderful movie. I heard The Best Man Holiday was really good. 

All is well that ends well.

Dream Life: The Perfect Couple

The cool breeze caressed my face as I took a night stroll through the neighborhood. Even as a woman walking alone, I felt safe because this neighborhood had ‘luxury’ written all over it. The people in this neighborhood had big incomes. They were lawyers, doctors, corporate executives… I assumed, since I had never been to that neighborhood before then. 

I stumbled upon a huge, red brick home with tan stone accents. It was the representation of a perfect life. Even at night, the landscape lighting allowed me to see the lush, manicured yard. A spot light illuminated a cute little sign that read: FALCON POINT YARD OF THE MONTH. I imagined myself living in that home. I walked through the yard; St. Augustine grass crinkled under my sneakers. I crept my way to a window on the side of the house. The blinds were open and I could see into the master bedroom. There was a beautiful couple winding down for the night. I guess the husband had just come home from a long day because I saw him take off his light blue, dress shirt and black slacks and then his white undershirt. With only his boxers on, he got into the bed. His wife walked over to him and gave him a kiss, before exiting the room.  He then turned on the flat screen television that was mounted on the wall and watched sports highlights. He was such a handsome man. His face was strong and chiseled. His body was perfectly sculpted. He could have been the leading man in a blockbuster film; instead he was the leading man in that beautiful life. His wife (assuming they were married) was a lucky woman. 

Suddenly my attention was diverted from the gorgeous man watching television in the mahogany, four poster bed. I heard footsteps approaching behind me. My heart began to race. I was frozen with panic. I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Slowly I began to turn around to see who was behind me. 
 
“What do you think you’re doing?” A woman’s voice asked, calmly. 
 

Oh my goodness! It was his wife. She caught me.

Thankfully I woke up right after that. I had no idea how I was going to talk my way out of that one.