I don't love my fiancé, and I don't want to get married. But I'm not sure I'll ever leave her.
Stacy, one of my friends, was hit by a double-decker bus in October 1999, right after our school's Halloween dancing. She just moved to the side, stepped off the curb, and hit the ground hard. Two girls dressed as Posh and Baby Spice were sprayed with juicy blood all over their bodies.
After yelling for us kids to "look away, look away," the teachers and chaperones ran out of the assembly hall still dressed up. We'd already taken a good look at poor Stacy's insides.
It took three hours and two firemen to scrape all the guts off the road...
Twenty-six years after the sign was put up to remember Stacy's "accident," I was waiting for Vinandra Ketter, the first girl I ever kissed, in the corner of a cosy Italian restaurant. The room went silent as the beautiful brunette walked through the front door.
Three workers and two men customers sitting near the door all rushed to take her coat. They had every right to be scared—Vini no longer looked like Quasimodo's little sister. The awkward, thin farm girl I remembered had been swapped out for a beauty queen.
Is it possible that our "deal" wasn't as bad as I thought it was?
She walked across the room with style, her brown hair fluttering from one shoulder to the other. Other customers in the seats turned away or looked at their plates.
"Remy," the pretty woman replied. I felt bad about myself in my wrinkled shirt because of her purple dress.
I shook myself awake and gave her a hug. Named "Vinandra."
"It's great to see you."
"And for you."
It was hard for me to get her chair out of the way. Setting her bag on the window sill next to our table, she made herself at home.
"How have you been?""Why?" she asked.
"Well, things at work have been really tough. Besides that, though, great."
"I bet. It must be hard to be the next Bill Gates. I saw that you spoke at a fancy gathering in Las Vegas last year."
I felt embarrassed and said, "It's not as exciting as it sounds."
As she wrote down our drink order, the blonde waitress with her hair pulled back into a bun hardly looked up from her notepad. She smiled the whole time. Vini and I decided to share a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino. Until the wine came, we talked about how bad the weather was. As the waitress poured, her shaking hand almost missed the glass. I remember thinking that it had to be her first shift ever.
"Cheers," I told Vini. She gave the worried girl a mean look, making her dislike clear. I couldn't keep those bubbles in my mouth. Sweet and fruity. Nice and crisp. Very tasty.
The uncovered brick walls were covered in pictures of famous Italian people and places, and the tables were set with red and white cloths. The strong smell of garlic and baking bread made my stomach growl, and I was already looking forward to a nice, hot meal.
Viniandra put her glass on the table. "Then why did you come back to the middle of nowhere after all this time?" Since Ashenville is so far away from London, it must feel like another world.
"I am not sure. I've been missing home for a few weeks now. Even though London is great, I guess I wanted to go back to a place where everyone gets along like they're old friends.
"Are people still as nice as you remember?"
"No, not really. Since I've been away, I feel like I'm no longer part of the group.
"What do you mean?""Why?" she asked.
"Just being a little short with me, everyone." It's tough to start a talk. Like last week, I was leaving Whites Tavern and saw a group of people cheering for a drunk jerk who had climbed up on a phone booth and started stripping. What was going on? I asked one woman, but she just made a face and walked away from me like I was the plague.
"How did she look?" Was there a scar on her?Vinnie made a line across her left cheek with her fingertip. "I think she did. That one has given me trouble before."
I laughed. "See? That's the point I was making. In London, I only knew the names of my friends because their mail got mixed up with mine. Here, I say that one woman was a little cold, and you knew exactly who I meant.
I told Vini that I had already started fixing up my mom's old house while we looked through our menus.
"How about you?""I inquired. "Did you ever leave this place like we always said you would?""
"No, not really. Because my mom was sick for so long, I only fell off two or three times. When I got back, she always spat out rage."
There was a short unpleasant pause. I finally said, "I'm so sorry to hear about her accident."
"That's fine." At her age, she was asking for trouble when she tried to use the combine machine.
Ashenville is a small, ugly town with only three streets and lots of rough dirt roads and green hills all around it. She grew up in a run-down shack with her mom and five cats. When the old hermit walked into a store on the main street, the clerks stood up straight and called her "ma'am." The mother dressed her only daughter for school in plaid and checkered skirts that went up to her legs. The other kids made fun of Vini at school for being a "fashion victim outcast."
A lot of negative things were said about that family.
The waitress came back to get our orders, but both sides of her mouth were still pinched. Vini chose the Prawn Cavatelli, while I chose the Rustica Piccante with cheesy garlic bread on the side.
Outside, the tyres of a wet car hissed. We all looked out the window at the scene outside. A young boy had been hit by a silver Volvo just inches away. Heavy rains hit the ground in sheets and bounced off the road, making a low mist that made it hard to see. As the lucky kid walked around the hood with one hand raised to say sorry, I saw Stacy's innards spread out over twenty metres of road. I shook the picture off.
Vianadra asked, "Tell me about London."
"I don't have much to say. I got a job in IT after college.
"Didn't you deal with something about events?""
"Yes, an app. Before the outbreak, I had a team of twenty people. After that, I began
making deals. I now work from home."
"Letting go of that life must have been hard. "One minute you have a great job and a beautiful fiancée, and the next you're in the village of the damned."
There was almost wine going down the wrong pipe. I hit my chest. “How’d you know I got engaged?"
"Uh, remember that small town? I’m pretty sure your mom mentioned it at the salon. "You know, before the stroke."
I had to have more alcohol in my mouth, so I took a big swig. "How about you? How have things been going?"
"Oh, the same old thing." And taking care of the farm and the sheep. A lot of people from out of town stop by now that I have a new sign up that says "strawberries for sale £1.50 per kilo."
I felt a chill go down my spine as I asked, "Do you still make those?"
“Sometimes.”
“Anything else I can get for you?” the waitress asked as she arrived with our meal, her voice trembling.
“No. This is fine.” Vini ignored her with a flick of her hand.
Our waitress backstepped away, still doing her best version of a Cheshire cat. I found myself annoyed with my date for acting so rude. So condescending.
The warm cheese from the garlic bread clung stubbornly to the corners of my mouth, and the Rustica Piccante was the perfect mix of hot and spicey, the textured dough like a tongue massage. While we ate, our conversation circled around former acquaintances: old friends, ex-teachers, elderly neighbours. Very little had changed since I moved away, except an occasional farm accident here and there.
Three tables over, a man stood so suddenly his chair fell backward. His hands clamped around his throat, his face changing from purple to red.
I would have rushed to help, except my thoughts circled toward my ex-fiancé, Ciara. She and I had been scuba diving off the coast of Spain when a yacht sped by overhead, becoming entangled with her breathing apparatus. Like the gagging man, she’d pawed her own throat, her body twisting in every direction underwater. Even through the facemask I could see the terror in her eyes.
We had zero chance of reaching the shore in time…
Back in the restaurant, a meatball launched from the man’s mouth and splattered across his table. What struck me as odd, though, was how around the room customers only quietly watched the scene play, and then returned to their meals without a single word.
The man dabbed his chin clean and did a lap of the room, muttering, “Sorry for causing a fuss. So sorry. Sorry.”
He stood next to our table and said, "I'm so sorry, everyone. I hope I didn't ruin your evening." His smile was forced.
fell a few steps short of being real.
Vini told him, "Next time, chew your food properly," and walked away.
Shocked by her response, I told her, "Don't be stupid, there's no need to say sorry."
"Of course," he jumped in. After saying that, he rushed through the door.
I felt a dull ache running down my spine. Why say sorry? Did I hear a hint of fear in his voice? Like something was off since I got there, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it yet.
"Remy?Viniandra said it.
I looked over at her. "Excuse me?""
"I said does this song bring back memories?"
"Genie in a bottle" was one of the songs that played over and over at our Halloween dance. It came from a speaker in the roof.
"Yes, of course. I was Captain Scarlet and you were a fancy debutante from the old days.
She slouched and put her left arm on the back of her chair. "You were the first boy I ever kissed."
Now that I was thinking about it, I smiled. That kiss was really a dare. Back then, Vini followed me around like a serial killer. She came to the dance dressed as a lady from the 1920s, which made her stand out among all the Obi-Wan Kenobis and Britney Spears wannabes, so my friends teased her.
them to put one on her as a joke.
"And you were the first girl I ever kissed," I told her.
She scrunched up her nose. "After that, you marched across the dance floor and kissed Stacy right away."
What can I say? At that age, you do stupid things, especially when your friends are pushing you. As soon as Viniandra left the dance floor, my friends came over and smacked me on the back to get me pumped up.
Gavin told Stacy, "Okay, now kiss her." Stacy went dressed as a Pink Power Ranger.
Because I said no, they kept making chicken noises that got louder and more annoying until I went up to Stacy, asked for a kiss, and then gave her one. It wasn't until we had a fierce game of tonsil hockey that I noticed the wide eyes staring at us.
Vini stood with her friends and clenched her teeth. She had two Freddo bars in her hands, which she had bought for us with her pocket money.
Anyone ever wonder which would win in a fight between a debutante and a Power Ranger? The answer is the debutante. It took three of my friends and our vice principal to pull Stacy out of that headlock. Vini's closed fist broke off a mess of her hair.
Vini didn't leave her house for two weeks after what happened. Her mother must have lost it when she heard what happened.
In the present, I said, "I was going to remember that part."
My date gave me a funny, sly look.
"What can I say? Fizzy sticks and Pepsi got me hyped up, and I was dressed as Captain Scarlet. Do you know how that makes a young boy feel?"
"You know that you never said sorry for that."
"You're right. Viniandra Russel, I'm sorry. To forgive?" I asked as I filled our glasses with more wine.
We kissed.
Deep in thought, I looked out the window. Viniandra and I didn't go on public dates after the disco for two reasons: first, I didn't want people to see me holding hands with the teenage girl who put on Sunday school puppet shows that would make Stephen King squirm, and second, her mother would have spanked her twenty times.
But when we were alone, we rolled around in the hay in her family's barn or went for midnight swims by the quarry.
"Should I get you two a dessert menu?" the waitress asked me and Vini as she came back with our empty plates. "What say we split a fudge cake?"
"That sounds good."
As we waited, people shook hands and said goodbye. As they walked out, people gathered their coats and purses and watched us from the corner of their eyes. What did they find so interesting? Was I just the new guy in a town that was desperate for gossip? I felt uneasy again; it was like I was stuck in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Maybe I just needed some time to get used to the small-town feel.
When dessert came out, there were no one else in the hallway but us.
The moist cake was what sealed the deal for me. As we savoured our last few bites, chairs were moved to tables and counters were cleaned.
The waitress couldn't keep her voice from shaking as she asked, "How was it?"
I said, "Great."
"Can I get you anything else?"
"Just what I needed."
She reached for the plates and her arm hit my glass, spilling red wine all over my lap. I jumped up so quickly that I hit the table.
The waitress gave me a rag pat on the middle and said, "I'm so sorry, I'm a total jinx."
I laughed and said, "It's okay."
She said, "No, it's not okay," with a very sharp edge to her voice.
The waitress jerked, like a dog off leash being scolded by its owner.
"Who hires these stupid people around here?" "You've ruined our whole evening."
The blonde woman stuttered, and tears were rising in her eyes. "Excuse me...I...I..."
It was my honest mistake, Vini, I told her as I gave the waitress her rag. "I really liked the food. Thanks a lot."
She stood there still until two other waiters rushed over and pushed her away by linking arms. A third waiter grabbed our plates and said, "Sorry."
It was like going back to my teenage years when she reacted that way. As I began to apply to colleges, I realised that the atmosphere inside my secret girlfriend was like a coming tornado: there wasn't much you could do to stop it except pray your luck held out. A woman in my group of friends might have been jumped the next day if she offered me a cigarette light. Or, whenever a local teen made fun of the fact that she was a lookout, she would get very angry and attack them, knocking them to the ground and scratching their face.
To be honest, I was glad when our last summer together came around. She was sad that she would spend the rest of her life "trapped under mother's thumb" by herself and sobbed into my shoulder. Keeping saying, "She'll never let me leave," "It's okay for you to go to college, but I have to take care of that old bat for the rest of my life."
I felt terrible when she cried, so I tried to comfort her by suggesting that we get married if we both reach 35 and are still single."
She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "What?"
"Okay, we'll be grown up. "She won't be able to stop us."
I even made a pinkie promise to show how much I cared. What could have gone wrong? For a guy like me, it would be easy to find love in the city. I'd be married long before my thirties showed up, no doubt about it.
It turned out that it wasn't hard to find love. The real trick is to keep a partner living. Lanna, my first serious girlfriend, burned to death in her flat two days after our three-year anniversary. Then Natty had her accident while rock climbing, and we've already talked about what happened with the scuba gear in Spain. I moved in with my parents two weeks before my 35th birthday because I was lonely and had been through a lot with the deaths of ex-partners. You would have thought I was cursed, I swear. Is it any surprise that I forgot about those bad memories?
I got home to find a letter already there. Viniandra asked me if I was free to go to dinner with her.
I quickly said "no way" when I became painfully aware of our "deal." Right away, though, I had a strange urge to see her again, and I gave in.
Sure, Vini had grown up to be a beauty queen, but twenty years after we broke up, she was still starting fights for no reason, just like her mother did.
Our waitress sobbed into her hands by the front door while two coworkers tried to comfort her. What kind of response did that have? When we were teenagers, people in the area made fun of and stared at Vini. They look like they are being held hostage by her now.
Viniandra ran her finger around the outside of her wine glass. "Remy, do you remember when we were seventeen and—"
"What's the deal?"I cut him off.
She gave a shrug. "I'm just single." You don't have a partner. We've both had bad luck, so I
She stopped talking after that.
I scratched my back. "Okay, look. In relation to that—"
She hit the table with her fist. "I knew." Didn't you mean to keep your word?"
The people working across the room were very careful not to look at us. That being said, I could have squished under my chair and died of shame.
It was hard for me to find the right words. "It's not that...we were kids."
"So it was all BS, right?""She yelled, her brow getting darker," From what I've seen before, the anger would soon come.
"No, all I'm saying is"—I needed another stick with a carrot on it until I could get away—"Let's go on a date first." You're different now. I'm different now. And let's be honest: our relationship was never normal. Let's take it easy and enjoy it without any extra stress.
As she looked at me, it was like she wasn't sure if this feeling was real. "Aren't you lying to get out of our deal?""
"Don't be stupid."
She took a deep, steady breath. "Okay."
No changes needed. Come on, I'll call you a cab." I choked on the words "and then block your number."
Viniandra reached out and wrapped her hand around the collar of my shirt. She then pulled out a stray blonde hair. She looked at it for a moment before leaving to go to the toilet.
Now that she was gone, I left a very large tip on the table.
At the front door, I put on my coat. As I did, the waitress rushed over and grabbed my hands. She said, "Please," through tears. "Are you going to talk to her? Say it was an accident. Thank you."
Someone at work quickly said sorry, then grabbed her and whispered, "Shut the hell up." Would you like to make things worse?"
The rest of the staff pretended not to see me. I sat down on a stool next to the counter. A bartender's face broke out in sweat as he forced another smile. "I hope you had a good night, sir. He said, "Good luck," stressed the word even more.
Now, this feeling of unease had turned into pure fear. Since I got back, dark storm clouds had been hanging over Ashenville. But why?
I looked around and then leaned in close. "Hey, buddy, tell me, is the woman I'm with a little... tricky? People around us seem to be walking on eggshells. Should I know something?"
His tone was dropped and he looked around the room as if he was afraid of being heard. He said, "I don't know what you mean, Viniandra's a delight." "Be careful, buddy. When her mom died, she lost it. Some say she made her do it. We're all stuck here now. She's now in charge. A few people attempted to stop her, but their efforts failed. She always seems to be ten steps ahead. Then, last week, she told people she was going to get engaged soon. Before you got here, we thought she had lost it. "Do yourself a favour: make her happy." He then told the group, "We hope you both come back soon, right?""
A group of people around me agreed. There were forced smiles all around me.
I asked the barman more about it, but he wouldn't say anything else. Just then, Viniandra came back.
Soon-to-be husband. I lost the story. What the heck did this mean?
In either case, you could tell that no one was going to say anything else by the scared looks on their faces. Not while Viniandra is nearby. I had to get her home first and then figure out what else I needed to do.
While we were outside, my date and I took cover from the rain under a shade while the staff held the door open. The waiter, whose sobs had turned into a sniffle, opened an umbrella, said goodbye to her coworkers, and then shuffled across the street, almost as if she were giving up.
Right away, the brakes on the car screeched. There were two hissing clouds of rainwater coming up. Before a Vauxhall slid to a stop, I couldn't make out what was going on because of the wave.
The waitress fell twenty metres from where she jumped off the curb. The blood on her face was already running off because of the heavy rain. A lot of people screamed as I ran into the storm.
Her bottom half was tilted a quarter turn to the left, and there was a long cut in her neck that showed good steak-like meat. It was almost like the Rustica Piccante went up my throat.
"Somebody call an ambulance!" I yelled as I looked over at the other waiters, who were all stunned.
But no one jumped in to help right away. Not even moving. While standing under the umbrella, they only looked at Vini and smiled. She had one of her silly, hand-stitched dolls in her left hand.
Vini waved her finger at me to move forward. I looked into the bartender's eyes, and he made a "go on" sign with his chin. My eyes kept going back and forth between the dying waitress and the first girl I ever kissed. It hurt to realise why people in the area had been acting so strangely towards me. of why I had such bad luck with love for twenty years.
So, I faked a smile, walked up to my date, who would later become my wife, and pulled her in for a warm hug. I could only think of one thing as I held her: how long do I have left before she starts making hints about getting married?
