Happy Never After

[Ernesto]

I reached the exit door, happy that no one had punched or yelled at me, but as happens to the overconfident, my happiness did not last long. Someone came after me and grabbed my shoulder, an older man I recognized as the groom's father. I turned my head, saw his fist, and heard:

"You stupid son of…"

He had no time to say anything else. Before his fist could even touch my face, I saw someone else come between us, someone who threw a punch at him: the bride's mother.

"You knew it!" she cried. She looked at me and gently said, "Thank you, dear. Oh, you look terrific today. Say hello to your parents!"

My parents? Around us, the scene looked like a movie: the man holding his face in pain, the woman in pain holding her hand—but smiling— and me, looking at them both, wondering how lucky I was because no one had punched me yet. I nodded at her, waved goodbye, and walked down the stairs, hoping to cross no one else, which— of course— did not happen.

We were in the street, getting away from the wedding circus, when Rita stopped. She squeezed my arm as she turned, and I heard a voice I did not recognize, although I was sure it was about to bring trouble.

"You don't even say hello anymore?" he said, a slim, bald guy who looked at Rita like he owned her.

"I am in a hurry, and you are busy," she replied.

Rita did not seem the confident woman I'd met two weeks ago. She kept her face down and squeezed my arm, but I did not know who he was or what I was supposed to do. Then, I saw the pregnant lady approaching.

"Alberto, you know I cannot run," she giggled. Her belly reminded me of the story of the cobra that ate an elephant because that woman, who should be around my age, looked like a toothpick with a football glued in the middle. It was almost shocking how slim she was and how round her belly was… but then, I realized: Alberto? Was that the guy? Rita's ex?

"I think we have to go," said Rita.

"I think we should speak," he replied." I left a couple of books at your place. At least you did not throw those."

Rita said nothing at first, but I am sure she would have loved to develop her superpowers and torch the guy right there with X-rays out of her eyes. Me using telepathy and her torching enemies—what a pair… Unfortunately, neither of us had such skills, and Alberto and the pregnant lady were standing before us, demanding an answer I was sure my friend could not give. Thankfully, I was wrong once more. What a day!

"Let's talk then," she said, releasing my arm. She patted her skirt, and for a second, I thought she was about to take out her earrings, but luckily for him, she didn't. I could feel the rage mounting. There she was, the woman I'd met in a bar.

"Who is she?" she asked, pointing at the woman beside Alberto.

"She's my girlfriend. What kind of question is that?"

"And that?" asked Rita, pointing at the gigantic belly.

"We're expecting. What else could be?"

"But you were my boyfriend two weeks ago," said Rita, really slowly, looking at him and her. "We've always been together..."

"I was your roommate and your friend. I don't know what you are speaking about."

Alberto turned to his girlfriend, held her hand, and kissed her before telling her:

"You see? It was good you could have the transfer; it was time to move out of the apartment. She was getting attached to me, and I was starting to fear for my life. And I could not move with you because of my job. I am so happy that you are here with me…"

Then, he looked at Rita and said:

"Hope you take care of yourself because he does not seem to be the kind of guy who can do it. Are you dating or nursing him? He is a baby."

If I had had earrings, I would have removed them and taken him down, but I didn't wear that kind of jewelry or dare to move. The pregnant woman laughed, and the bald man waited for Rita's reaction, but he got none, rien, nada. Instead of punching him in the face or telling him he was a liar and a cheat, she tapped on my shoulder and walked away. I had never seen someone so broken and graceful.

[Rita]

I don't even know how I reached the car. I closed my eyes and wished for all that to be a stupid nightmare, but Ernesto kept on talking, and I was sure I would never dream about something so annoying. I was fully awake, and I had seen Alberto with a girlfriend-- a pregnant girlfriend-- who thought I was some psychotic girl chasing his man and laughing about it in my face. What had I become? That was not supposed to happen, and that's not how epic love stories end. Ours was epic... or so I thought.

"Stop the car!" I yelled, startling Ernesto so much that he almost rode us against a tree.

"Are you OK? He said.

"Stop the car right now, or you'll spend too much time cleaning later!"

I opened the door and threw up. Ernesto stopped and ran to the other side of the car to find me at my worst. My mascara was all over my face, my breath was beyond toxic, and I felt like a steamroller had run over me, my hope, and my dreams. He walked carefully towards me and offered me his pocket square to clean myself. I felt terrible because I knew it would be ruined, but I cleaned my eyes, snot, and lips with it and had the decency not to return it afterward. He looked at me and stopped talking. I thought he understood I needed silence to process what had happened, but he was distracted by something else: his phone. He took it from his pocket and saw a new message. He showed it to me. We had a new client.

"Still want to do it?" he said.

"I don't have anything else," I replied, leaving the car and opening my mouth as if the roadside breeze could freshen my breath.

"Don't be dramatic."

Dramatic? Me? I raised my head and looked at him, deadly serious. "I am a joke; I did not notice he was cheating on me and about to have a child with someone else... a gorgeous girl who must be twenty years younger than me. I am the crazy one who asked him to live with me. I lost my job because I am just a number with no special skills, strengths, or anything else. I am alone, my friends are all living their lives, and I am the one who never grew up. And you, you are the only one who speaks with me, a baby, a guy much younger than me, and still with much more life experience… I am not dramatic! I am mad!"

"OK, you have a point," he said.

"I don't have a point! I have the whole Morse code, with all the points and all the dashes. I have the right to be mad!

"Yes, you have."

"And to be sad," I continued.

"Yes, you have," he said again, but then, instead of shutting up and listening, he asked the magical question:

"But you'll work with me, right?"

"Yes," I whispered.

I looked down and realized I was standing in a mud pool. How could it be muddy on such a warm day? I stepped one, twice. My heels were buried in the ground, and the bottom of my skirt was dirty. Still, instead of leaving that spot, I jumped, splashing mud all over the place, Ernesto included.

"It will be better!" I yelled, jumping up and down in that very same spot.

"Are you crazy?" shouted Ernesto, and then, when I heard the word, I stopped and said:

"Yes. Totally. And, by the way, the next gig is mine."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You've done it twice. I can do it, too."

"We're a team," he said.

We shook hands, as business people do, and he used the handshake to pull me out of the mud.

"I think I'll have to clean the car anyway," he said, looking at my dirty shoes and our spotted clothes.

"I'll help; we're partners," I replied, and we drove back to town.