The Not So Perfect Proposal

Kenneth can’t stop sweating. He fingers the small velvet box in the center console of his old pickup. He can do this, he reassures himself.

He opens Google Maps on his phone, resting in the cupholder. He’s almost at Veronica’s hotel; two minutes away. He takes a deep breath and glances at the AC dial. It’s turned to its highest.

“Come on, Ken,” he says out loud. “Calm down.”

He pulls into the parking lot of Ver’s hotel, choosing a spot close to the entrance. 

Start the date right, that’s what his newest ebook download, The Perfect Proposal had instructed. And Ken really had thought about what Ver would like. Convenience is key, in her opinion. She would appreciate the short walk to his truck. She’d also appreciate that he read an ebook and not the physical copy.

He’s doing pretty well so far. He sprays some Odor-B-Gone beneath his arms.

“What the hell,” he says, and spritzes it all over his t-shirt. He pulls down the sun visor and checks his reflection. His hair is slick, his teeth are clean, and the nick on his chin that he got while shaving last week, has almost disappeared.

He steps out of the pickup and heads up to Ver’s room.

#

Ver stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, making an attempt to judge whether her makeup is too flashy or not. She doesn’t want it to seem forced. Just mascara and a swipe of lip gloss should do.

Ken was supposed to pick her up at four, and he’s fifteen minutes late. He obviously doesn’t care about it getting dark before their picnic. Heck, he was the one who wanted to take her on a camping trip for her birthday last spring. He wanted Ver to sleep outside like a filthy animal. Her fingers had itched for the tiny bottle of hand sanitizer in her pocket just hearing the idea.

Well, that was all ending today. There would be no more Kenneth and Veronica after this evening. No more awkward conversations, that made her feel like scrubbing herself all over. No more improvised excuses not to hold Ken’s grimy hand. No more pretending she sees her boyfriend as anything more than a walking germ. She’s finishing it. In fact, finishing them would be more accurate.

There’s a knock at the door.

Ver hurries to answer it, slinging her purse over her shoulder on the way.

“Hello, Ken,” she says, scanning him up and down. He’s looking almost respectable. His hair is neat, for once. His outfit is acceptable. But damn! That’s some serious BO.

“Hey, Ver,” Ken says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Ready?”

Ver nods, not daring to open her mouth and inhale that…stench.

“Cool.” Ken smiles. “Let’s go.”

They head down the elevator, and Ver tries not to notice Ken’s hand hovering near hers.

As they step outside, Ken starts leading her to his rusty old pickup truck, which might be better described as a box on wheels. He’s parked it directly in front of the hotel entrance.

“You know that parking is reserved for employees only, right?” Ver asks.

Kenneth goes bright red. “Oh, I didn’t. I must not have seen the sign.”

Of course, he hadn’t. Clumsy Ken never noticed anything of importance.

“It’s a good thing we’re leaving now, I guess,” he says, opening the passenger side door for Ver.

She wrinkles her nose as she slips into the seat. The leather is ratty and peeling, more so than last time, and the whole truck smells like sweat.

Something crinkles beneath her as she sits down and she pulls out an old hamburger wrapper.

Ver is disgusted. Ken must recognize her expression, because he releases a nervous chuckle and says, “Heh, sorry about that.”

“Hmm,” Ver says, tilting her head upwards. She hopes she can make it through the car ride without throwing up.

#

The park is small and private, with a pond right in the middle. A few ducks sit in and beside the water, and a vibrant garden is planted on the far side.

Ken’s proud of himself for choosing the spot. He did his research as instructed in The Perfect Proposal, chapter three, titled, Location, location, location.

Ken pulls over on the side of the curb and hops out. As Ver gets out of the car, he slips the little blue box into his pocket and retrieves the picnic basket from the trunk.

“Kenneth,” Ver says, folding her arms over her chest. “You did bring a cooler for the drinks and fruit, right?”

Ken frowns. “They never had coolers in the old days, and they did just fine on picnics.”

“That’s fine,” Ver says. “But we’re not cavemen.”

Kenneth bites his lower lip. So he should have brought a cooler. He’ll remember that for next time. Next time.

Ken picks a spot at the park in the shade of a large tree and lays down the checkered tablecloth he packed. Nice and traditional.

Ver sits down and fidgets with her hair while Ken sets up the food.

He brought protein smoothies, in pretty mason jars, cut watermelon and pineapple, cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, with the crusts cut off, and a slice of homemade cheesecake for them to share.

He offers food to Ver, but she only eats the fruit. She says she’s on a diet and Ken suddenly feels like an idiot.

#

That’s right. Ver’s on a diet. A vegan, Ken-free diet. She had to say something to save herself from having to drink the brown sludge in the mason jar. Or eating the sloppy sandwiches with the cream cheese that smells…off.

The fruit looks mostly safe, though, so, after sanitizing, of course, she pops a few pieces into her mouth.

Ken starts up an awkward conversation. “So, Ver, what have you been up to recently.”

Trying not to smell you, she thinks but doesn’t say. “Oh, just the ushe.”

Ken chuckles. “Yep. So what do you think about this place? Very,” he pauses to clear his throat, “romantic, huh?”

Ver sighs. It’s not supposed to be romantic. “Yeah, sure,” she replies, halfheartedly. “Nice tree, I guess.”

Ken furrows his brows. “If you don’t like here, we can always find someplace else to eat.”

“No, it’s not that,” Ver says. “Listen, Ken-OH!”

There’s an audible splat! as brown sludge falls onto Ver’s forehead and dribbles down her face. She squeezes her eyes and mouth shut, and struggles not to punch Ken in his big, smiling face.

“Nature happens,” he says, smirking. “Here, let me get that.”

He picks up a napkin, and as he lifts his arm to wipe off her face, Ver gags. “Ken,” she croaks.

“One second. Almost got it,” he says, leaning a little closer.

“KEN I WANT TO BREAK UP WITH YOU!” Ver shrieks.

“Oh,” Ken says drawing back.

#

That was unexpected. Ken doesn’t know what to say. Ken doesn’t know what to do. Or think.

He’s such an idiot. He thought reading an ebook would make him deserve someone like Ver. Someone so glamorous and sophisticated.

She wants to break up with him. And all visions of them living on a little boat together, in the port, heading to the community garden every Saturday, hiking and biking and camping. Singing to their children and teaching them how to fish. All of it is gone.

Of course, it was unrealistic. This was Ver he was talking about.

She took a first-class plane trip to his place, just to come and break up with him.

Wow, Ken. Genius, he thinks.

He runs a hand over the box in his pocket. He had envisioned their entire future buying the ring. Everything they would do together. Everything they would be together.

“But, Ver,” Ken says, slowly pulling out the box. “I love you.”