I'll Be Your Everything (36 page)

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Authors: J.J. Murray

BOOK: I'll Be Your Everything
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“How are y’all doing?” I ask.
I hear some static. “Your father’s getting on the other line.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Hey, Shari,” Daddy says. “How’s my baby?”
I have so much to tell them. “Um, are you both sitting down?”
Two yeses.
“Mama, Daddy, I’m married.” I wait for the onslaught.
It doesn’t come.
“I’m so happy for you, Shari,” Mama says.
“So am I, baby,” Daddy says.
Who are these
nice
people? Who has replaced my parents? Why aren’t they quoting the Bible at me? “Um, you don’t seem too surprised.”
“Why would we be?” Mama says. “Tom already called us.”
Tom already ... called. I nod. Yeah. That’s something Tom would have done. Wow. He’s building bridges that I burned long ago.
“He talked my ear off for most of the morning, baby,” Daddy says.
Circling the wagons, he said. He was talking to them the whole time I was destroying Corrine.
“He even asked me for your hand in marriage,” Daddy says. “How old-fashioned is that?”
“It’s the right thing to do, Charles,” Mama says.
“I know that, I know that,” Daddy says. “He sounds like a really fine young man, baby.”
“He is, Daddy.” I look up and see Tom standing in the doorway. I mouth, “Thank you.” He shrugs.
“And so polite,” Mama says. “He told us he’s been attending church with you for two years. Is this true?”
It’s sort of true. “Yes, Mama.”
“I wish we could have been there,” Mama says.
“Yeah,” I say. “It was beautiful.”
“Oh, I know it was, baby,” Daddy says. “I’ve watched it a couple times already. On that YouTube thing.”
It’s already out there! That is so cool!
“Are you eating enough, honey?” Mama asks. “You sure looked skinny in that video.”
“She looked just fine to me,” Daddy says. “And what have you done with your hair, baby? Why is it flying around so much?”
For the next two hours, on my wedding night, I rest against the chest of my husband on my bed and talk to my parents. Well, they talk to each other a lot while we talk, too, but it’s just like being at home. Tom takes the phone several times to tell them how nervous I was, how stubborn I am, how many children we’re going to have, and how much he’s been trying to get me to eat. Neither of us tell them about tomorrow. I don’t want them to worry.
“Mama, Daddy, I’m really exhausted,” I say.
“You should be, all the work you’ve been doing,” Daddy says. “You’re doing me proud, baby, and I—”
“Charles,” Mama interrupts. “It’s their wedding night.”
“I know it is, woman,” Daddy says.
“She’s not really exhausted, man,” Mama says.
Oh my goodness! “No really, Mama, I am so tired right now, more tired than I’ve ever been.”
Tom rubs my shoulders. “Tell them we’re coming to visit this weekend.”
So soon? “Really?” I whisper.
He nods. “And then it’s on to Tahiti.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Um, Mama, Daddy, Tom says we’re visiting this weekend.”
I hear silence.
“Mama?”
I check my phone. It’s working. My battery meter’s half full.
“Baby,” Daddy says softly, “we can’t wait.”
“Mama?”
I hear a click.
“Daddy?”
“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “Your mama’s just a little emotional right now. She’ll be happy to see you, too.”
Mama’s ... crying. I guess that’s good. “Is she okay?”
“Woman, you had your
own
phone,” Daddy starts to say, and then I hear Mama say, “Drive safely, child. See you soon. I’ll have your room ready. Good night.”
Another click.
I lean back into Tom. “My mama never cries.”
“Another first,” he says.
Yeah. I didn’t know my mama
could
cry. And now she’s crying. . . because I’m coming home.
“Tom?”
“Yes, baby?”
I pinch his thigh. “You ain’t my daddy.”
He growls.
“Tom, I am really tired.” I am more than exhausted.
“Me, too, and we have a huge day tomorrow.”
I look up at him. “You don’t mind if we don’t ... consummate our marriage?”
“We’ll have time,” he says. “Shh, Shari. Just rest.”
And then I sleep for what seems like forever.
Until I wake up in the middle of the night, run to the bathroom, and have the worst vomit burp I have ever had.
Tom’s awake when I return. I don’t know if he ever sleeps. “You okay?”
I snuggle up to him. “I’m fine. Just excited, I guess.”
“I can’t sleep either,” he says. “I usually don’t sleep a wink before a presentation.”
I turn and put my booty on him. “Then let’s not sleep together.”
“Have I told you how much I like the way you talk?”
What did I say? Oh. “I meant, let’s just ... watch the sunrise.. . .”
I don’t make it to the sunrise, and Tom has to shake me several times to wake me in the morning. I look up and see him fully dressed. “Morning,” I say, trying to kick out of my covers.
“Don’t get up,” he says.
Fine with me. I return to my pillow. “What time is it?”
“Three thirty,” he says.
I do not like what 3:30 a.m. looks like. “Why are you dressed? Aren’t we supposed to do one more run-through at your house?”
“At
our
house,” he says.
Oh yeah. I’m a home owner now.
“I think you need more sleep, Shari,” he says.
“But I want to practice,” I say. Oh, that was convincing.
“You’ll be fine,” he says. “You’re a natural.”
I grab his leg. “Are you going to look all corporate on me today?”
He grimaces. “Just for one more day.”
I push his leg away. “I probably won’t recognize my own husband.” I sit up. “Um, what if people at the meeting know we’re married?”
He shrugs. “So they know. I doubt it, but we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”
I bury my head under the covers. “You’re so funny at three thirty in the morning.”
He pulls back the covers and plants a hot, juicy kiss on my cheek. “And this time tomorrow, we’ll still be going at it.”
Yep. “Kiss me again.”
He kisses my stomach, his tongue lingering a
long
time.
Now I’m awake.
I sit up. “I’m going to be so nervous, Tom.”
“You’ll be fine,” he says. “And I’ll be there with you.”
Beside me all the way. “Drive safely. I love you.”
He kisses my lips. “I love you, too, Shari. Get some sleep.”
And I don’t sleep well at all until the alarm clock jolts me awake at 7:30 a.m. because this is the first day of the rest of my life. So many things have come into place so quickly and with such good timing. There are so many “what-ifs” that went in my favor, and there are still more possible what-ifs today. What if I had waited two more hours for Tom to hand me my contract? Would we be on our way from Great Neck to Harrison Hersey and Boulder for work right now instead? Would we even have fallen in love, or would he just be my boss? Would Bryan still be in the picture? What if the jellyfish hadn’t stung Corrine? What if Corrine hadn’t stayed in Hawaii and had come back to the city sooner? Would I have backed down and shared my information with her and let life go on its less-than-blissful way? What if Harrison Hersey and Boulder chose someone other than Tom for this competition? Would I have ever met Tom? I suppose Tom would have eventually approached me at Brooklyn Tabernacle, but would we have—
This is too much to think about. And even though I haven’t been very godly and won’t be very godly today, I have no other explanation than God. The Lord works in mysterious ways all right.
And this beautiful mess is the proof.
I put on my rugged outfit, the one I wore down in Georgia, try to eat a waffle but can’t finish it, and take one last walk past Whitman Park and across the Brooklyn Bridge. I don’t walk nearly as fast as I usually do, drinking in everything and everybody, and thinking very little for a change. Oh sure, I’m still curious about Tom’s presentation. “A trade secret,” he told me. Hmm. He just wants to surprise and impress me. He’s already surprised me in so many ways. He followed me on a bike on this very bridge. He called me just to talk. He drew me. He drew me in, too. He made me steal my own ring. Okay, he didn’t
make
me steal it, but ... And he called my parents. Man, I don’t know if I could stand a lifetime of surprises like that.
I am seriously tripping. Of
course
I could put up with all those wonderful surprises.
I drift into my building and stand in the elevator, no smile today. I’m a little sad because this is the last day I’ll ever work here. It’s been a chore, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the place I’ve been going to for five years. It has many memories. Hmm. Most of them are bad memories.
Yeah, I am still seriously tripping.
I pass Tia’s spot, now staffed by a young Hispanic woman. I wave at her, and she waves back. I’ll bet we would have been friends. I arrive at my desk ten minutes late, and this is yet another first. I have never been late before. I sit at my desk, idly looking in drawers for anything I might want to take with me. I find nothing that interests me, not even a pack of Post-its.
My phone lights up. Ted. “Hi, Ted.”
“Hi, Shari Sexton,” he says.
I feel a twinge. I don’t need to feel any twinges today. “You know?”
“Your video went viral,” he says. “A million hits as of midnight.”
The twinge intensifies into a pang. “What can I do for you, Ted?”
“I, um, I just wanted to wish you and your husband well. That’s all.”
Ah. “Thank you, Ted. And thank you for putting up with me all these years.” I look over at Ted. Yep, he’s blushing.
“You’ve been easy to deal with, Shari,” he says. “Unlike everyone else.”
I’m going to miss Ted. “You take care of yourself, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And maybe the Mets will do better next year, huh?”
“Yeah. Bye, Shari.”
“Bye, Ted.”
Corrine sweeps in looking immaculate as always in a dazzling black Who Cares Who Made It dress, but the circles under her eyes tell a different story. She’s been up all night.
Unlike me.
“Are you ready to see what we’re presenting?” she asks.
I nod. “Sure.”
We go over to production, sit in uncomfortable plastic chairs, and watch some of the most
ridiculous,
jacked-up commercials and view the most
offensive
ads I’ve ever seen. They are all very well produced, but they suck so bad.
“What do you think?” she asks as the last crappy slide fades, no music in the background. I would have used “Something Foul” by Nas for this PowerPoint’s background music.
“It’s edgy, Miss Ross,” I say. “Really cutting edge.” Really cutting your own throat! The guillotine will be falling later. Heads, mine included, must roll!
And that’s when I have another vomit burp, run to the nearest ladies’ room, and spew my half-eaten waffle. Man, I’m falling apart. I have to get myself together.
When I get back to my desk, my phone lights up again. “Shari Sexton, Miss Ross’s office.” That’s right. I know my own name. It’s the last name I’ll ever have.
“Piper in personnel. I noticed you’re here today.”
Okay, wench. I need to put you in your place today. “Yes. I’m here, Piper in personnel. Did the system notice I was here today, too?”
“No. You have failed to log on to the system at your appointed time.”
I roll my eyes. “So I’m not here until I log on.”
“Correct.”
“So if I work on a presentation all day, and, oh, help make this company millions, I’m not here unless I log on.”
“Yes.”
“Miss Ross never logs on,” I say.
“She doesn’t have to,” Piper says.
I sigh. “Piper in personnel, do you call every MultiCorp employee to inform them that they are here or not here?”
“No.”
No hesitation. “So what’s the problem?”

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