I Married a Master(78)
Author: Melanie Marchande

He still showed no sign that he even knew I was talking.

"…it’s just that I really care about you," I said, at last, instantly regretting the words as they left my mouth.

Ben let out a bark of laughter. "And this is how you show it?" Raking his hands through his hair, he finally looked at me. "Look. I understand it’s upsetting and overwhelming. It’s hard to deal with. Right? You don’t really know how to wrap your head around it. So just imagine how I felt, watching my mother die. Imagine how I felt, wondering if I’d go the same way. Imagine how upsetting and overwhelming that was. Imagine how hard that was to deal with. There’s a reason I don’t talk about it, and it’s not because I’m afraid of my feelings, or trying to be mysterious, or brooding, or whatever fucked-up reason you think it is. It’s because I don’t want to. I don’t want to think about it. I’ve dealt with it already, and I’m done."

Tears were trickling down my cheeks, and I couldn’t hope to stop them.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again. "I didn’t mean to upset you, I just…"

I just love you. That’s all.

Fucking stupid. What was wrong with me? Why wouldn’t I just let it go?

Because it’s real. Even if he doesn’t see it…

"I know," he said, finally, his voice a little quieter. "I know. I know you didn’t mean it. It’s just, everybody thinks it’s their business. And I hate that. I can’t stand it. That’s why I kept the research quiet. I knew it would be obvious if I made it public, that there was some kind of personal connection. Because it’s true: there’s no money in a cure. Especially not for such a rare disease. I’m doing it because it’s a tiny drop in the bucket, but it’s something I can do. It’s people I can help, that nobody else is going to bother helping. It’s something. It’s not for me."

In spite of everything, my heart leapt a little bit in my chest. "It’s not?"

He sighed. "I don’t have it, Jenna. I don’t have the gene. I’ve known that since I was ten years old. My father knows. I never told anybody else, because it’s none of their business. I’m not dying. At least, not any faster than anybody else."

Relief flooded my system. I struggled not to show it, unsure of how he’d react.

"We don’t have to talk about this anymore," I said, fighting to keep my voice from trembling.

"Of course we don’t," he said, with a sarcastic smile. "You got the information you wanted, right? Now you can sleep easy at night. Because you’ll never have to go through what I went through. Now, you can just move on and forget that people die horrible deaths before their time." He roughly finger-combed his hair again. "I’m sorry. This is just something I’ve been living with for as long as I can remember. It’s hard to have any kind of normal perspective on it."

"You don’t have to apologize," I insisted, even as I shivered at the chilliness of his attitude. I understood, or thought I did – as much as anyone possibly could. But I couldn’t really know what was going through his head. I couldn’t know what it was like to be ten years old, and see your mother die.

"I know I don’t," he said. "But you’re not going to calm down unless I say I’m sorry, so, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m sorry for. I’m sorry I didn’t share every painful part of my life with you. I’m sorry I didn’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry."

"Daria found me," I blurted out.

He stopped, and stared. All the blood drained from his face.

"God," he said. "Jenna, I’m…" he exhaled tightly. "I’m so sorry. I really am sorry. I didn’t think she’d…" His eyes darted wildly around the room. "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing important," I lied. "Nothing you need to worry about. She just wanted to wish us well."

He could tell that I was lying, but he didn’t know what to say to make me tell him the truth.

"I’m sorry," he said, again. "If you want to talk about it – if you need to ask me anything, I…"

"No, it’s fine," I said. "You’re right. You should probably just go."

Shutting the door after him, I gave myself a moment to breathe before I started crying.

Chapter Thirty-One

Jenna

My wedding day went by in a blur.

Not the happy kind of blur I think you’re supposed to have, where it’s just so joyful you can’t find the place in your mind to hold the memories. More like the kind of blur that leaves you feeling like you’ve got some kind of flu, or a brain fever, or you’ve just been spun around in one of those astronaut training machines and you’re no longer sure which way is up.

I finally saw my parents at the theater, a few hours before I was whisked away to start the insanely complex process of transforming me into a bride. I didn’t understand why it had to take so long, but apparently, it was very important that I look exactly like a living, breathing wedding topper.

"Hi, honey. "My mom hugged me tightly, smiling, a little apprehensive. "We’re so happy for you."

"This must be the lucky guy," my dad said, with forced joviality.

"Very lucky," Ben agreed, turning on the charm.

I saw my parents sitting there in the first row, my father clasping my mother’s hand. Confused, apprehensive, but happy.

Happy for me.

We spent some time on meaningless chit-chat, and I learned all about what they’d been doing. Their eyes were filled with unasked questions at first, but as time passed, I saw them begin to relax. They noticed something between Ben and me, probably the same thing that Daria noticed. They weren’t so suspicious anymore. The worry began to fade.

Everyone knows it, except for us.

It was a funny thought, except it wasn’t funny at all.

***

Looking back, I could hardly remember walking down the aisle. I knew I did it, because I had to assume no one carried me. But the specifics, the vows, none of it registered, except for the way Ben looked at me.

That was all I could see, standing there, as the officiant droned on. It looked so real. It looked so much like he really wanted to be spending the rest of his life with me.

My guess about his gift was right. It was a dark blue lingerie set, simple enough, just panties and a bra. But I wore it, for him, because I wanted to. I wanted to see his face when he finally undressed me on our fake wedding night.

I had to focus on that, because I couldn’t wrap my head around anything else.

Finally, the ceremony ended. I only had a few minutes to compose myself before I had to appear at the real party.

The reception was teeming with faces, strangers and friends, family I hadn’t seen in years and people who might just be crashing the party, for all I knew. I didn’t manage to spot my parents, which was probably just as well. I needed to gather my thoughts.