The Wedding Bet (15 page)

I had to tell a professional lie. I’m sure the wedding cake Goddess and God will forgive me.

* * * *

At home, I slinked into my meditation chamber wondering about my values. I sat cross legged and prayed, “Dear Great Goddess and Great God send me a good man so I can get off this treadmill of mediocrity. I’m lying to myself more and more each day. I slipping into that morass of wanting to knit sweaters, go shopping at big lots or discount stores lifestyle. I want independence, daring, fun; that chance to be all that you provided me the skills to be. I want a real life and goals to achieve. I don’t want to be a help mate for the rest of my life. I create myself.”

At that exact moment PR Man called. “Hey, I understand you called a truce on the wedding bet. It says so right here in your event calendar.”

I struggled to clear my head. “That’s because I figured two months in I’d need a break to keep my catering wedding business afloat. And today, I needed some good reinforcing, because I just made a good case for a fizzle fit Type A personality bride to get married, when she had cold feet.”

PR man laughed in the background. “Fizzle fit Type A personality. You’ve got that funny wit.”

“I do?” I said this honestly.

“Amy thinks so. Do you want to call the wedding bet campaign off, Megan?”

“No! Are you crazy PR Man? All the money you’re getting. I should think you’d pound your fist, exclaiming we have a year contract.”

“This is unusual campaign. Most women want to be married and as soon as possible.”

“Not me. I need you to kick my ass. Make me run an extra mile of feminine denial. I don’t want to leech off a man until I’m fat as a beached whale.”

“Most women are active into their ninth month of pregnancy. That’s not an issue.”

“What’s our next plan? The marriage counselor?”

“Yes. I found the perfect person, Debra Runyon, Licensed Marriage Counselor, Ph.D.”

“They give Ph.D.’s in marriage counseling these days? Amazing.”

“Took me quite a lot of searching. Most marriage counselors try to help the person get married. But Debra understood the humor of both sides. You really did not want to catch the wedding bouquet and Olivia’s position of following tradition. She said since it’s not really your fault but fate’s, she’ll intervene—showing you how to best avoid marriage.”

“I’m relieved. This is surprising news after all. Now at last I’ll get some real female advice on avoiding the marriage trap. I can’t thank you enough PR Man. Don’t expect me in for another week. I have several more weddings to pull off. Hopefully. I need to keep earning money to pay you or I’ll never store up enough funds for my Flanders trip, next year.”

“Good enough, Megan. Forget about your values when it comes to making money in business. You said what you needed to say to keep the bride going down the aisle.”

PR Man hung up. This made me uneasy. Here I wrangled and twisted my hands wondering why I’d lied and PR Man said lying was par for the course in business? Is he lying to me? Does he think I’m really marriage material like Olivia and Cynthia? Does he secretly want me to be married off?

Then I shook my head. No. He wants his paycheck. Just like I wanted my paycheck from Ms. Walling. We all need our paychecks and if the truth gets shaved off a bit here or there so be it. No one tells the truth twenty-four hours a day, every day of their life. We’re all going to that big lie detector machine in the sky, where our every lie will be measured as big lie, middle-sized lie, little necessary lie, lie to keep your husband happy when you want him to read your romance novels; when he prefers to stick with his Camping Today and Man Cave Times Magazines.

Yeah.

I began to feel proud of my wedding speech. It showed depth and wit. Maybe I have a funny sense of humor. I actually created happiness with my mind and mouth, not just my hands and brawn beating the wedding cake batter. Now to just figure out a way to selling wedding catering to men. That’s my next big goal this year. Men must listen to special words that make them want to get married. What are those words? How can I tap into them and generate business?

The fourth month. Emotionally exhausted, I needed another pep talk/strategy session from PR Man about holding off on getting married. Not that any prospects had suddenly showed up. Although annoyed that Cynthia (mostly) insinuated that perhaps PR Man and I were an item, I assured her that most certainly was not the case. I never thought of him like that. He’s like a brother to me. An older brother who wanted to keep the scum, lowlife, no-good boyfriend material away from his young sister’s awareness.

Why do women think just because you’re with a man, that it’s sexual? Are men supposed to sleep with the women they work with?

I entered Limber & Love’s office in the morning about ten o’clock. The ever-optimistic Amy was not at her desk. I decided I’d better check my makeup and clothes before seeing PR Man. I hated for him to think I kept my appearance down, to keep from getting marriage. There really is no reason a girl can’t look her best when trolling to turn men down for dates.

Upon entering the Spartan facilities, I heard a soft whimpering. The eight stalls made deciding which door the sad sounds came from intriguing. “I’ll have to guess. Are you the sad girl behind door number eight?”

The sound stopped suddenly.

“Amy...Amy?” My footsteps sounded loud like the hall monitor from some Brothers Grimm tale. “You’re late for class I said. And we don’t allow immature girls in school until detention in the afternoons.”

Amy laughed. “Yup. It’s me. I’m the mess of a girl behind door number eight.”

I clicked my heels back through the grey and white Limber & Love bathroom. I knocked on the door. “Can the Brothers Grimm Hall monitor come in?”

“You may...” she sniffled.

“What’s wrong, Amy? The last I heard you and Ian ventured out to the movies, looking like Minotaur and Minotaurien.”

“We did. We had a good time. No one laughed at us. Disappointing. I guess. But no. Ian and I had our first couple fight.”

“What over?”

“He said helicopters are for boys! I like my helicopters.”

“Helicopters?” I knew the pack rat in Amy would yo-yo its way to the surface sooner or later. For some girls it’s shoes, other girls, jackets or bras. Some girls go for larger items like purses or boyfriends.

“I have over two hundred toy helicopters in my apartment.” She looked up at me with her pink eyes.

“My favorite is a Syma RC Helicopter S-107G. It is remote controlled, great for children or adults to fly indoors or out and sturdy enough to take a crash without damage. The gyroscope and two topside blades and tail blade make flying a snap.”

“Pink eyes don’t go well with your hair color, Amy.” I held up my hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “I’m just saying. But what are you doing with two hundred helicopters?”

She shifted on the lid of the commode. She wiped her nose again. The tissue paper she had looked more like pulp mill tissue paper. I pulled a fresh couple of tissues from my purse.

“The last stall gets used a lot,” Amy explained.

“I guess the privacy,” I nodded.

“They’re all different. See I started at age fourteen with the Syma RC, a green and white little helicopter, only big as an old computer mouse. My very first toy helicopter. My mom got it so I’d stop bugging her to go to Disney Land. She said toy helicopters provided better and cheaper entertainment than Disney Land.”

“You’re mom had a point.”

“Then after that. I expanded from indoors helicopters to back yard ones as big as your purse; then to ones slightly smaller than my desk, to fly in the park. Actually I fly all my helicopters in the park now.”

“Wait a minute. You can fly it indoors?”

“The small minis like the Syma RC. I perform barrel rolls, loop-the-loops and upside-down flying, all indoors. Of course, in the park, I met other people who had bigger, better helicopters than mine. So I wanted another one and different colors. Different brands and before I knew it,” She paused, sniffling, “I had two hundred toy helicopters packed in my closet instead of clothes.”

“You need to wear clothes, Amy. That’s just an unbearable fact of life.”

Amy laughed. “I love how you make everything seem funny. I guess I forgot about that. I didn’t care for clothes, until I graduated college. When I got my own apartment, I got one with two closets.”

“I don’t understand exactly how Ian feels irritated by your helicopters?”

“He stayed at my place and got tired of hanging his clothes in my closet. So I told him he hang them on the back of my chair in my bedroom, or the living room.”

“That sounds reasonable. He hasn’t moved in yet or anything?”

“That’s just it. He brings his dog and his dog gets into the closet for my helicopters. The dogs love to chase helicopters, even if they’re not flying.”

“Let me guess his dog got at your toy helicopters. He swallowed something and got sick.”

“Something like that. Ian tried to keep his dog from going after my helicopters and he fell and something popped down his throat. He coughed and coughed something terrible. Then he bent over my couch and performed the Heimlich maneuver on himself and it popped out. A helicopter wheel.”

“That’s funny, Amy. Ahem. I mean…how tragic. So he doesn’t want to come over anymore.”

“He can’t bring his dog over. I can’t bring my helicopters to his place.”

“How are you two supposed to play in the park together?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know!” Amy stared at her shoes.

“Okay. You fly your helicopter in the park. Ian’s dog likes to go chasing after it. Then when the helicopters stationary, the dog still remembers how much fun it was to chase after it. This means your helicopter or his dog has to go or his dog has to learn to fly or your helicopters need to get some mace.”

“In a nutshell.”

“What do the folks at the women’s shelter think about this?”

“They say it is typical for a man to want a woman to give up all her hobbies, so she can be lonely and only want and need him.”

“In a nutshell—” I said.

“But we can work it out if we just talk about it. I’m sure of it.”

“Or get Ian’s dog his own helicopter.”

Amy sat up straighter. “Or I can get a dog and Ian’s dog can play with my dog!”

“Yes, Amy. But do you really want a dog? They are expensive.”

“I went to school on complete scholarships. I don’t have any student loans.”

“You should teach finances at the local high schools. Owning a dog shouldn’t be too much trouble then.”

“You’re such a big help, Megan.” She stood up. “Too bad you’re not going to get married. And I know you’ve got that appointment with the marriage counselor.”

“Men. Can’t marry them. Can’t live without them.”

We walked out of the eighth stall.

Amy said, “Some men are born to fascinate women, some men learn to fascinate women, and some men have the fascination of women thrust upon them.”

“That’s very profound Amy.”

“With Ian, it’s all three.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. He can’t live without you.”

I left Amy there and counted the doors in the labyrinth of Limber & Love until I found PR Man’s office then I went inside.

* * * *