The Housemaid’s Wedding: A Short Story

Our appointment to get married is at eleven-thirty.

The timing is perfect. We will get married, and then afterward, Enzo and I will have lunch with my parents at a nice restaurant downtown. He will get to know them properly, and we will be on our way to being a real family. I am a perfect combination of nervous and excited. I am nervicited.

God, I’m so nervous that I’m making up words now.

We are supposed to meet my parents in front of the steps of city hall on Worth Street at ten past eleven. We make it there with a few minutes to spare, which is a good thing because my mother is a stickler for punctuality. When I was a kid, she would get so mad at me if I was late for anything, and there were no excuses. When I was in middle school, I had to bring a friend to the emergency room because she tripped on our way home and split her forehead open so badly that it wouldn’t stop bleeding, and I still got grounded for a month for being fifteen minutes late for my scheduled piano lesson. Since we’re restarting our relationship, I want to make sure to put my best foot forward.

The snow has stopped falling, but there’s still a sprinkle of white powder on the ground. In about half an hour, all the snow will have turned into gray slush (or worse, yellow slush), but for the moment, it’s pretty. I hug my peacock-green coat to my chest for warmth although the coldest part of me is my ears, which could be in danger of frostbite if we don’t go inside soon.

Enzo, who is wearing a black beanie without the slightest concern for his hair, notices me cupping my ears to keep them warm, although all that seems to do is make my fingers cold. “Do you want my hat?” he offers.

Is he out of his ever-loving mind? “Do you know how long it took to get my hair to look this way?”

“It looks the same way it always does.” A second after the words leave his mouth, he recognizes his mistake and quickly adds, “Always beautiful.”

Nice save, Enzo.

“I do not want you to be cold,” he says. “You are making heat for two now.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. My parents will be here soon. I only need to keep warm a little longer.”

When I mention my parents, I instinctively touch my neckline. I didn’t wear a necklace because I’m waiting for my mother’s heirloom. If I wore anything else, she’d complain it would outshine the jewelry she gave me.

“Relax,” Enzo says. “Do not worry so much. Everything will be fine.”

“You don’t know my parents.” I curl a flattened tendril of hair with my finger. “They need everything to be perfect. If everything isn’t perfect, then…”

“So we will be perfect.” He flashes me a toothy grin. “Yes?”

I check my watch. “Where are they anyway? How come they’re so late?”

“So late? It is 11:12. Two minutes late.”

“That’s extremely late for my parents, believe me.”

I crane my neck, looking down the street to see if they’re coming. I don’t see my parents, but my attention is distracted by another person who is standing by the steps to city hall. I squint and blink my eyes, not sure if I’m seeing right.

It’s the bald-headed man from the cafe. The one who I thought was staring at me. He’s got his phone to his ear, and once again, he’s looking in my direction.

It could be a coincidence, but somehow, I don’t think so. Especially when he looks up at me then quickly looks away again when our eyes meet. I consider walking over there to get a closer look or even confront him, but before I can, my phone starts ringing.

Is that him? He’s got his phone in his hand, so it certainly could be. Although if he called me now, it would be very clear he’s the one making the calls.

But maybe he wants me to know.

I fumble with my purse, practically dropping it in the snow. I hold my breath when I pull my phone out of the purse, expecting to see that 718 number again, so it’s a relief when I find the name “Mom” flashing on the screen—she must have gotten caught in traffic and is calling to apologize. I take the call.

“Mom?” I say.

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. I listen for sounds of traffic in the background but hear nothing. “Hello, Millie.”

“Are you almost here?”

Another long pause. “No.”

“But our appointment is in less than twenty minutes!”

“Millie…” There’s yet another pause, and this one seems to last an eternity. “Your father and I aren’t coming.”

“What?”

Enzo’s dark eyebrows shoot up at the sputtered word. “What’s wrong?” he mouths, but I shake my head. Instead, he dips his head close to mine so that he can hear what my mother is saying.

“I’m sorry,” she says as if that helps even the tiniest bit.

“But… why aren’t you coming?”

I wait for news of a terrible accident on the highway that prevented them from making it to the wedding of their only child. Maybe my father fell and broke his hip. Maybe an earthquake created a deep crater between their house and city hall.

“We never should have agreed to come in the first place,” she says in that maddeningly logical voice that I used to hate. I forgot how much she used to get on my nerves. “We had hoped that everything you went through had changed you. But after your father and I discussed it, we realized you’re just as much of a mess as you always were. I mean, the only reason you’re getting married in the first place is because you got yourself knocked up.”

She’s not wrong, but still… “It happens, Mother.”

“And now you’re marrying… who?” She gives a snort of derision. “Some blue-collar immigrant in search of a green card?”

Enzo jerks his head away from the phone, looking affronted. “I have a green card!”

I wave my hand at him, knowing this objection won’t help. “You told me you were coming. You said that you wanted to be a part of my life and a part of your granddaughter’s life.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, and I want to reach through the phone and throttle her. “I just can’t bear to watch you raise a girl that turns out the same way you did.”

I am speechless.

Enzo takes the opportunity to wrench the phone from my hands. Before I can stop him, he is speaking sharply to my mother. I want to tell him not to bother, that once my mother has made up her mind, there’s no changing it back. But Enzo has that look in his eyes, and I can tell he needs to say his piece.

“Mrs. Calloway,” he says. He’s respectful—I’ll give him that. “I want you to know that I love your daughter very much, and I will take very good care of her and our child. I already have a green card, and I do not want to marry her for that reason. I want to marry her because I love her, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She loves you also, and it meant so much to her that you were coming. If there is any way you could be here, if not for the ceremony, then…”

There is a long pause while he listens to whatever my mother is saying to him. His olive skin rarely shows signs of his emotions, but now his face turns red. “No,” he says in a low voice that is simmering with rage, “she did not need to change because there was never anything wrong with her in the first place.” Another tense pause and his voice drops. “No, I do not believe I am making a mistake.”

He listens for another several seconds, and then finally, he shakes his head. “You do not know your daughter at all,” he says in a voice that is simultaneously angry and sad. “I hope someday you will realize the terrible mistake you have made. But for now, we do not want you here or in our lives.”

I stare at him as he ends the call and wordlessly hands my phone back to me. I give him a second as he struggles to maintain his composure.

“What did she say?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know.

“You are better off without her,” is all he says.

He won’t even tell me. That’s fine though. I got the gist of it.

Wow. I can’t believe this is happening. My parents aren’t coming to my wedding. They have left their only child all alone on her wedding day.

“We don’t have a witness anymore,” I say, my voice cracking embarrassingly on the words.

“We’ll find one,” he promises. “It is a whole city hall. Lots of people.”

“And… and I don’t have my something old anymore…”

My head is spinning. This was supposed to be the best day of my life, but it’s been one tragedy after another. Is this a sign that Enzo and I are not meant to be? Or maybe it’s just that this morning, I dared to think of myself as lucky. How could I have been so stupid? I’m not lucky—I’m never lucky! I am the unluckiest person in the entire world.

And just to top it all off, that bald man is still staring at me.

I stare back in his direction. This time, he doesn’t look away. He glares right back at me with venom in his eyes. This is clearly him—the man who has been threatening to cut my throat. This is the man who has been telling me that he will kill me on my wedding day.

Well, I have had enough.

Before I can stop myself, I stride across the snow-coated sidewalk in the direction of the bald man, not caring about my wholly inappropriate footwear. My hands clench into fists, and my heart slams in my chest.

This is going to end right now.