Dusting Off Dreams

Cheap Wedding

I want a divorce, I said. It's not you; it's me.

What?

Your father keeps throwing the wedding in my face.

Jenna said and slapped my face. No Goddamn way in hell we're getting a divorce, buddy. Don't love me anymore?

Of course, I do, I said—more than anything.

Besides, do you know how much my father paid for our wedding last year?

Look, I told you I wanted a small wedding. Something cheap. The justice of the peace kinda thing.

Jenna's narrow eyes turned to crinkled slits. You always were a cheap ass.

Excuse me? I threw my hand to my chest. Am not!

Are too!

Look, this is why we can't be together.

No, you don't get to push me away because of my father. Jenna folded her arms across her chest. This is because of my father. Right? That's what this is all about?

He fucking hates me. I lowered my head.

He wouldn't have paid for our wedding if he hated you.

I gave her a deadpanned stare.

Okay, well, maybe he's not too fond of you.

My point exactly.

We're getting divorced over your fucking dead body. Leave me--

And what? What would happen if I left?

I'll...I'll fucking beat you to death while you sleep. You always fall asleep right after we have sex.

Oh, you would turn this around on me. I rubbed my temples. And watch your language.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck, Jenna said.

I laughed. God, I hate that I love you.

Always will? Jenna said with one eye closed.

There's nowhere to hide from you.

No, relax. My father isn't that fond of me either.

Tell your father to stop throwing the wedding in my face.

Tell him yourself; he's standing right behind you.